Another Disciplinary Picnic

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© Guyspencer 2016

Author Note: This story may be read by itself, but it's best if you read Punishment Day and A Disciplinary Picnic first.

Another Disciplinary Picnic

In the 1920's, especially in Texas, female law officers were virtually unheard of. Yet Beverly Birch was a full-fledged Deputy Sheriff in the little town of Independence Texas. Since dresses weren't terribly compatible with her job, Beverly wore pants, a shirt, and a gun belt with twin revolvers. The effect was quite manly, especially true since Beverly was imposingly tall, full-figured, and brash. However, under those rough clothes she was all woman. She even liked the joke of wearing frilly things hidden under that manly exterior.

Beverly was married to Tom Birch, the town banker. Totally smitten by his wife, he was clearly the happiest man in town. What they kept secret however, was that privately Tom and Beverly had an unusual arrangement. In the Birch family, Beverly was in charge! Since both of them preferred it that way, the arrangement was perfect for them.

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Despite her outgoing, brash and self-confident personality, Beverly wasn't perfect. At home she was quick to spank Tom if he got out of line, but she also was no stranger to Tom's lap. Usually Beverly gave him pure punishment spankings, whilst most spankings that Beverly received from Tom were of the foreplay variety. Even though he was happy for Beverly to be in charge, Tom was no spineless pushover! On those rare occasions when Beverly was clearly in the wrong, he would give her real punishment spankings, but always with her own consent. On those occasions, Tom acquitted himself quite well!

Also, Beverly had no formal law enforcement training. The Sheriff had originally hired her as a simple clerk. At first she had been given a Deputy's badge only so that she could legally supervise the occasional female prisoner. But later her duties had gradually expanded to include supervising all prisoners. Next, she occasionally filled in for the Sheriff when he was out of town. From there, it was a small step to designating her as a full-time Deputy. So the hiring of a female Deputy Sheriff, normally unthinkable in those times, had actually happened gradually over time. With each small step, the leaders and citizens of Independence, as well as Sheriff Thompson himself, had been given time to become accustomed to this strange new idea.

But although Beverly was well suited for her job, she wasn't perfect. She did make the occasional error.

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One time that Beverly really screwed up was when Rufus Perkins was a prisoner, picked up on an arrest warrant from another county. Rufus was a card shark, a con man, and (only when necessary) a petty thief. Beyond that, Rufus was one of the nicest, most engaging folks you would ever want to meet. Of course, that likeable exterior is what made him such a great con man!

Perhaps because he was so likable, and also because he had committed no crimes in Independence, (he was wanted in several other towns) Beverly initially developed a liking for the man. Unfortunately, that blinded her to the escape danger that this slippery character presented. So one morning when the Sheriff was off on other business leaving Beverly in charge, Rufus took advantage of Beverly's too-trusting inattention to slip out of his cell, and then escape via the building's rear door!

Fortunately Rufus wasn't a dangerous man, but it took two days of hard work plus bloodhounds borrowed from another town to recapture him. Over that time, Beverly worked tirelessly to catch the man. Finally, Rufus was safely back in his cell.

The next few days were rough on Rufus. Before, having broken no laws in Independence, his status was simply that of a prisoner being temporarily held until he could be transferred to a proper jail for holding and trial. But now he was also guilty of a jailbreak! Sheriff Thompson was furious with both Beverly and Rufus, but it was Rufus that he dealt with first. He did two things to Rufus to make any further escape unlikely. First he confiscated his clothing, leaving him dressed only in a blanket, and then he fastened an old-fashioned ball and chain to his ankle.

The next Thursday, the town's normal Punishment day, Rufus carried that heavy iron ball to the town square, where the naked man was publicly tied to an A-frame for a thrashing. Although uncommonly good at the job, Beverly normally didn't receive any particular pleasure from thrashing prisoners. But Rufus was different. For Beverly, delivering that thrashing settled a personal score.

The next day a special wagon arrived to take Rufus away to the state prison. Now that Rufus had been dealt with, the jail was temporarily empty and things were quiet in the Sheriff's office. It was time for Beverly to privately face the Sheriff's wrath.

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“What am going to do with you?” Sheriff Thompson asked. It was a rhetorical question, but a vital one. There was no way that the Sheriff could ignore Beverly's screw-up. On the other hand he didn't want to fire her. Anyone else that he could afford to hire would likely be far more error-prone than Beverly. As a practical matter, firing Beverly would mean going without a deputy.

Still, Beverly felt honor bound to suggest the possibility, “Boss, if you want my resignation...”

“If I wanted your resignation,” the man stated very clearly, “I would already have fired you!”

But that didn't mean that Beverly would get off free! “I can't simply ignore this,” he explained. “The Mayor will surely ask me what I have done to ensure this doesn't happen again. I could dock your pay, But dammit, you're married to a banker! That surely wouldn't hurt you.”

“If you were my daughter,” he mused, “I would simply take you out to the woodshed and take a belt to your bare bottom. You would learn your lesson and life would go on.”

This time, Beverly was a bit ahead of her boss. She already had a suitable punishment in mind for herself. And now he had given her the perfect opening!

“Umm,” Beverly interposed, “Let's think about that for a moment. I'm honestly devastated by this. You are justifiably disappointed in me, but I'm also disappointed in myself. So you just mentioned the perfect solution. Something like that would clear the air at the same time that it washed away my guilty feelings. Rufus was thrashed for his part in this farce, so it's only fair that I receive the same.”

The Sheriff thought before speaking, “I can think of a thousand reasons why that won't work Beverly. Yes, I could march you to the town square and then thrash your bare ass, but it would totally ruin your authority in this town. You would never live it down!”

“I agree” Beverly replied, “Rufus was thrashed in the town square, but that won't work for me. You should thrash me just as hard as I thrashed Rufus, but it must be in private.”

“But there is no place in town that's that private! A proper thrashing makes noise, lots of noise.”

“Again, you are correct Boss. So we will need to leave town. I know of a private place.”

The Sheriff threw another roadblock at Beverly's idea, “What about your husband? I can't imagine Tom letting me hurt you that way. And besides, I can't imagine him allowing me to see his wife naked.”

“Sheriff Thompson,” Beverly explained, “I believe that you have seen most of our female prisoners naked at one time or another. Certainly you have seen every female prisoner who has gone to Punishment Day. Whenever it happens, you are a perfect gentleman, even though the sight of them must secretly raise your male passions.”

The unmarried Sheriff blushed at the mention of his “male passions”. Reluctantly he nodded, conceding Beverly's point.

“Also,” Beverly continued, “you are the one person who has a hint about the nature of the relationship between Tom and I. So you know that Tom will go along with this if I tell him to. But, I don't think that will be necessary. Under the circumstances, I think Tom will see the value of you punishing me to get this problem behind us once and for all.”

A decisive man, Sheriff Thompson spoke, “Talk this over with Tom, and think about it yourself. If it still seems like a good idea tomorrow, we will decide when we can do this.”

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Two days later, all the arrangements had been made. A retired Deputy would fill in so that both Beverly and the Sheriff could leave town together. Tom had arranged to be gone from the bank that day so he could accompany Beverly.

Immediately after breakfast, Tom hooked Bossie, their harness horse, to their light buckboard wagon and loaded a few essentials into the wagon's rear. Meanwhile, Beverly packed a picnic basket for three.

Soon they drove their wagon out of their yard and stopped outside the Sheriff's house. The Sheriff emerged, greeted Tom and Beverly, and slipped the horse a treat. With Tom and the Sheriff in the front seat, and with Beverly meekly seated on a box in the rear, they drove the wagon out of town. If any of the townsfolk noticed, nobody thought anything of three people taking an apparently friendly outing.

With little human input, Bossie spent the next two hours pulling the wagon to one of her favorite places, the remote picnic site that Tom and Beverly called “South Branch”. There they released the horse to drink and wade in the river, and then unpacked their picnic lunch.

They took their time at lunch. Actually, none of the three ate much, especially not Beverly. Each person wondered why they even bothered with the ritual of bringing a meal when nobody was hungry. With determination, they kept the lunchtime conversation light, with no mention of what was scheduled for afterwards.

Finally, when everyone had long stopped eating, it became impossible to maintain the pretense of normalcy.

It was Beverly who broke the ice, “Sheriff Thompson, I need a couple of minutes to “water the grass” behind a tree, and then I'm all yours. Naturally you are in charge of proceedings, but I would appreciate it if you would allow Tom to warm up my bottom before you thrash it. We have brought a suitable belt, but the choice of straps is yours.”

After returning from her “bladder break” Beverly asked respectfully, “Should I undress now?”

“No Beverly” the Sheriff responded, “You being naked would be a distraction, so let's talk first.”

Beverly started out with a sincere apology, and then Sheriff Thompson got his say. “This really feels strange,” he explained, “Because you are the best Deputy I've ever had. But even so, we can't tolerate mistakes like this. Rufus isn't particularly dangerous, but some prisoners are very dangerous! You could have been hurt, or some innocent person would have been hurt because of your negligence. We just can't let that happen!”

By the time the conversation was over, tears streaked Beverly's face.

Finally Sheriff Thompson said, “Okay Beverly, you may prepare yourself for your punishment.” There had never been any discussion about what “preparing” would entail, because such discussion was unnecessary. In Independence, thrashings were always given nude.

Beverly had worn a simple dress and had left her gun belt home. She stepped out of her shoes and then turned her back for Tom to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. With an unaccustomed blush, she pulled the dress over her head.

The Sheriff blushed and looked away from the sight, but Beverly noticed. With a trembling voice she begged, “Please sir, I appreciate your gallantry, but I deserve no such thing.

Reluctantly turning his eyes towards his half-naked Deputy, he agreed. “Your point is taken Beverly. Please continue.”

As Sheriff Thompson reluctantly watched, Beverly stripped away her underthings, and then stood before her husband and her boss with her impressive body on full display. Both men had sprouted erections, but Beverly took no notice. In fact, with her tear-filled eyes she likely didn't even see them.

Her blush revealed her embarrassment at her exposure, but she stood proudly straight, making no attempt at cover. The lady knew all too well that she would soon display even more, and that neither man would be able to avoid that sight.

Without being asked, Beverly picked up the picnic blanket from the ground, folded it in half, and then laid it over the fallen tree trunk where it would raise her bottom to an appropriate height. Purposely, she walked to the wagon, rummaged momentarily, and then produced the promised belt, which she handed to Sheriff Thompson. He examined it momentarily, noted that it was heavy and limber from a recent application of saddle oil, and then declared it perfect for the job.

There were details to be decided: Beverly explained to her boss, “We have brought wooden stakes to drive into the ground, and short ropes for restraints. With your permission though, I would like to try it without them. Perhaps though, you would allow Tom to hold my wrists? That should be sufficient to hold me in place, and I'll attempt to keep my thighs open for you.”

The Sheriff nodded his agreement, “You've thought this out well,”

She turned to Tom, “Tom, don't even think of interfering with my thrashing. It will hurt like Hades, and you should expect me to make lots of noise. Perhaps I'll even beg for it to stop, but ignore me. The Sheriff is a master at this. He will hurt me with the belt, but will leave no lasting injury. Just hold my down so it can be over quickly. Understand?”

Reluctantly, Tom agreed.

She turned to the Sheriff and asked in a respectful tone, “Is it okay for Tom to prepare my bottom for the belt now?”

“Yes,” he said, “That would be appropriate.”

With a businesslike air, Tom selected a spot on the fallen tree, sat down, and then patted his lap. Humbly, Beverly lowered her curvaceous body into place, ready for her warmup spanking.

There was no reason for preliminaries, so Tom started immediately. As usual for a warmup spanking, it wasn't severe, but neither would it be an easy spanking for Beverly to take. Already tearful, she sobbed lightly as her substantial, shapely and firm bottom bounced, shimmied, and gradually flushed from Tom's corporal efforts. Knowing that her inner thighs would soon be fair game for the belt, she spread her legs wide to invite Tom to spank there.

Sheriff Thompson winced at this wide-open view of his Deputy’s female charms, but knew that he couldn't avoid seeing them again when his turn to punish Beverly came.

Tom accepted Beverly's wide-open invitation, spanking her tender inner thighs pink, which made the lady squirm and gasp at the sting.

As usual, Tom acquitted himself well. He spanked carefully, making sure that every place that the belt might land had been thoroughly prepared. When he finally decided that her bottom was as ready as it ever could be, he landed a quick flurry of full-strength spanks without warning. Beverly squealed, kicked and tossed as he belabored her bottom. The moment he judged that he had pushed his wife over an emotional precipice, he stopped spanking, and then looked up at the Sheriff for instructions.

Without a word, Sheriff Thompson helped the bawling lady to her feet, and then led her the few steps to the blanket-covered fallen tree trunk. As he gently bent her over, he motioned Tom into a position where he could restrain her wrists.

Beverly was soon in position. Tom had a firm grasp on her wrists to hold her naked and shapely torso stretched across the blanket-covered tree trunk, and Beverly had somehow remembered to assume the required wide-open stance with her legs.

The whipping wasn't pretty to watch! As the Sheriff worked, his expression was grim but businesslike. There had already been enough talking, so he didn't bother to scold.

Because the Sheriff had assigned Beverly the weekly job of publicly thrashing prisoners on Punishment Day, she had learned that corporal skill from him. But even though he hadn't thrashed anyone lately, it quickly became obvious that he hadn't lost his touch!

Using techniques that were no mystery to Beverly, the Sheriff targeted every square inch of her buttocks and upper legs with that vicious leather belt, not missing her inner thighs. Just as he had taught her to do, he swapped sides several times so that the belt tip could find every nook and cranny of her nether anatomy. Except that she bravely did her very best to hold position, Beverly made no attempt to take her punishment stoically. In fact, she kicked and shrieked the entire time. Because her feet could touch the ground, her bottom was in constant motion, but that didn't seem to hurt the man's aim.

To Beverly her punishment seemed to go on forever, but the entire thrashing likely took no more than five minutes. Out of breath, the Sheriff finally laid the belt next to her and told Tom, “She's an amazing woman, and I hate that was necessary. I'll give you a few minutes of privacy to care for her, and then let's take her back home.”

Tom helped his woman up, and then held her for a long time as she bawled into his chest. Finally she regained her senses, but was clearly still in pain. Not bothering with her underwear, he helped her back into her dress, which thankfully was very loose fitting.

As Tom cared for Beverly, the Sheriff had been hooking up Bossie. When the time seemed right, he reappeared, his face showing concern. Through her face was still a mess, Beverly went straight to him to hug him and thank him for caring enough to correct her.

They spread the blanket in the back of the wagon, and then both helped the hurting woman up into the wagon, where she laid face-down. Tom crawled in and laid next to her. Doing his best to ignore the tightly spooned couple behind him, the Sheriff sat in the driver's seat as Bossie automatically made the return trip to back to town.

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That entire incident settled an important matter that the Sheriff had recently been considering. That unfortunate episode with Deputy Beverly Birch had actually done nothing to reduce his faith in her. In fact, it was just the opposite. The man had great respect for the way Deputy Birch had taken responsibility for her error. Unknowingly and accidentally, she had passed a crucial test of her integrity.

Yes, Beverly was human. As such, she would always occasionally make errors. But Beverly had demonstrated that she had the integrity to own up to her mistakes and to fix them if possible. That would make it possible for Sheriff Thompson to do something that he had been seriously considering.

It wasn't simple to arrange, so it was almost a year later before it finally happened; Sheriff Thompson retired to a small ranch that he finally had saved enough money to buy. On his last day, he packed the final wagon load of his possessions and quietly drove out of town. Standing in the middle of the street with tears streaming down her face, stood the only female Sheriff in Texas as she waved goodbye to the retreating figure.

In coming years, Sheriff Beverly Birch would prove to everyone that she was “man enough” for her job.

Guyspencer Home Page

© Guyspencer 2016

A Disciplinary Picnic

Guyspencer Home Page

© Guyspencer 2016

Author Note: This story may be read by itself, but it's best if you read Punishment Day first.

A Disciplinary Picnic

Ever since Tom Birch had married Beverly, the town's female Deputy, he had been the envy of every man in the little Texas town of Independence. Most men were at least secretly intimidated by the tall, buxom, blond, brash, manly-dressed woman. As such, they would hardly consider her a reasonable prospect for a wife or lover. But Tom had seen in her exactly what he had always secretly craved in a woman.

Since his marriage, Tom had worn the happy & bemused look of a sex-satiated husband who was perpetually smitten with his woman. Thus, becoming the envy of the town's males.

That Tom preferred to have a “take charge” woman in his life didn't mean that he was any less masculine. Actually, he was “all man”, whilst she was “all woman”. It's just that they mutually preferred for her to be the dominant partner. Because they both liked that arrangement, their marriage would be long and happy.

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It was Friday evening at the Birch residence. Every male in town would have given serious money to peek inside their bedroom that evening. The full-figured Deputy Beverly Birch was naked and squirming across her husband's lap as he spanked her shapely and surprisingly firm bottom to a bright pink. But this was no disciplinary spanking, and Beverly's squirm was motivated more by arousal than by the sting in her bottom. This spanking, and the play-acting that had preceded it, had Beverly  literally vibrating with desire.

At first townsfolk didn't know what to make of this large woman who wore manly-looking police uniforms. In the 1920's, woman law officers were virtually unheard of, especially in Texas. Because of her job as a full-fledged deputy for the town of Independence, her brash personality, and her manly walk, many folk initially assumed that Beverly was one of “those” women. But tonight, if you could have seen that pink-bottomed woman tear the clothing off of her husband, push him back on the bed, and then impale herself on his so-willing male organ, you wouldn’t doubt her heterosexuality.

The couple's evening had started with a home-cooked meal. Afterwards, over a pleasant two hours of simple togetherness, Beverly had become increasingly squirmy. To Tom's delight, she finally suggested a “play acting” session. After brief negotiation, Tom assumed the character of a strict schoolmaster whilst Beverly regressed into a misbehaving barely-teenaged student. After a suitable dressing down, the “strict schoolmaster” ordered the “student” to strip for punishment. Suddenly contrite, she begged for mercy, promising eternal perfect behavior. Failing in her plea, she begged to at least retain her undies. Through it all, the “schoolmaster” remained firm and pretended professional detachment as his favorite woman mock-reluctantly stripped. Finally, after one last scolding, he took her across his lap to belabor her gorgeous bottom.

After that arousing spanking, and after the subsequent gymnastic sex, the couple spooned in bed. With Tom's half-erect penis gloriously nestled against the warm and silky flesh of her nether divide, the couple drifted off into a contented and mutually exhausted sleep.

But the loving wasn't over for the evening. Sometime in the wee hours, Tom gently kissed Beverly awake. One thing led to another, and then it was Tom's turn on top. This second session was slower, more loving, and deeply satisfying. Still entwined and with Tom still inside her, they fell profoundly asleep. That's as close as two people can possibly get!

Even though Tom and Deputy Beverly Birch are a happy and close couple, they aren't equals. Beverly is the master of both their relationship and their household. Regardless of the above-described spanking, Tom spends far more time over Beverly's lap than she spends over his. Although they keep their arrangement quiet, and they publicly pretend that Tom is dominant, both actually prefer for Beverly to be in charge.

Yes, Beverly sometimes allows (even orders) Tom to spank her, but those spankings are normally little more than foreplay. On the other hand, whenever Beverly is unhappy with Tom, he goes bare-bottom over her lap for a true disciplinary experience. It may seem like a one-sided arrangement, but it's one that deeply pleases them both. At least, usually it pleases them both…

But this weekend was an exception!

You might imagine that the Friday night orgasmic encounter described above was the start of a perfect weekend for Tom Birch, but you would be wrong. Oh yes, Tom enjoyed every minute of that evening, but something was hanging over his head that put a definite damper on the weekend for him. You see, Tom was in trouble, big trouble, and his main punishment was scheduled for Saturday afternoon.

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It all started at last Wednesday night's barn dance. In little Independence, evening entertainment was sparse. The town's only regular evening activities were the saloon, the Wednesday barn dance, and Sunday evening church. While both Tom and Beverly enjoyed the occasional drink in the saloon, they weren't regulars there. Like most Independence citizens, they were church members. And like most townfolk, they rarely missed a Wednesday night barn dance.

This particular Wednesday night however, Tom had drank a bit much. Beverly had warned him, but he hadn't listened. Before Beverly finally discreetly dragged him out of there, Tom had started to get embarrassingly loud. Far worse, he had gotten overly familiar with the Parson's daughter!

So that night Beverly took him home and not-too-tenderly put him to bed. The next evening, a very contrite Tom put his naked body across his wife's lap for a brisk application of a hairbrush. Said application continued until she had extracted genuine tears from her man. That might have been sufficient punishment had this been the first time that Tom had drank too much and had started to spin out of control. But since it wasn't, and because Beverly deemed it time to make a definite point, she also sentenced Tom to a thrashing, something that had only happened twice before in their relationship.

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Saturday morning, the couple lingered in bed until sunlight streamed into the window, making sleep impossible. As they dressed, all was normal except that Beverly specified a certain belt for him to wear. Tom cooked breakfast, which they ate leisurely. Watching the loving couple sit so close together, you would never guess what was on today's agenda for them.

After breakfast, Beverly sent Tom out to prepare the wagon and to hitch up the horse. As he did that, she prepared a picnic basket. Tom pulled their light buckboard from a shed, and then spread their picnic blanket in the rear. He fed and watered their two horses before leading Bossie, their harness horse, towards the wagon. As usual, Bossie was reluctant to leave her stall, as she could see the waiting wagon. With a bit of urging she allowed herself to be harnessed and hooked to the wagon. Tom didn't blame the horse, he harbored his own mixed emotions about today's picnic.

As usual for a casual off-duty day, Beverly wore a simple dress. Her only nod towards her usual manly outfit was a light gun belt. This she didn't actually wear, but stashed under the wagon seat. She tossed the picnic basket in the wagon, climbed into the seat, and motioned for Tom to follow.

He regarded her with pain in his eyes, “South branch?”

She nodded. Acquiescing, Tom took the reins and clucked at Bossie. Reluctantly, Bossie drew the wagon out of the yard and allowed Tom to turn her towards the south. They passed through town, and then continued down the road. As soon as there was nobody to see, Tom automatically handed the reins over to Beverly.

“South branch” was one of several shady picnic hideaways the couple frequented, but this one had a feature that would prove especially useful today, a fallen tree. By mutual agreement, Tom and Beverly wouldn’t let Tom's pending punishment totally ruin their day together. They sat so close that their shoulders rubbed. Their conversation was forced at first, but gradually became amiable. By the time they came to a certain bend in the road about five miles from town, they were kissing and necking. They turned Bossie onto a barely noticeable track that cut directly across prairie grass.

Now that the horse guessed their destination, she perked up. Bossie liked South branch! However, at least today, Tom was more ambivalent about the place.

Even though the track they were following was barely visible in places, Bossie know exactly where to go. In 1920 the Model T and similar cars were becoming more common, but Tom had no desire to own one. You had to steer a car! But once she figured out where she was going, Bossie steered herself. Besides, cars were stinky and unreliable. You could depend on a horse!

Now that there was no chance of meeting another wagon, Beverly tied off the reins and gave Bossie her head. Heady with love and arousal, the couple crawled into the back of the wagon to lay on the blanket. Soon his pants were at half mast and her dress hem resided well above her waistline. Neither had bothered with underwear. As they hugged, kissed and stimulated each other, they luxuriated in the rocking of the wagon, the sight of puffy clouds rolling overhead, and their mutual love.

When Bossie got the first sniff of the South Branch river, she tossed her head and quickened her pace. By then, Tom had fingered Beverly to climax. Beverly had reciprocated by bringing Tom close to the edge, but deliberately saved his vitality for later play. Feeling the wagon speed up, they knew they were close. So they reluctantly put their clothing back into order and climbed back up into the seat.

Bossie brought them to a certain copse of trees near the riverbank and stopped. She turned her head, regarding her humans expectantly. Tom jumped down and unhooked the horse, which trotted directly to the river, there to wade and deeply drink.

While the horse waded contentedly in the refreshing water, Tom and Beverly spread out the blanket in the shade, opened their picnic basket, and spread out their lunch. Before eating, Tom put out Bossie's food bucket. She munched the grain appreciatively.

Trying to pretend all was normal, the couple sat to lunch. As they ate, each would occasionally glance towards that fallen tree. But then they would quickly glance back, grimly trying to banish the thought that it evoked.

After lunch, they napped on the blanket while they digested their food. Eventually they awoke and then undressed each other. The tall grass under the blanket made for a lumpy bed, but neither of them noticed as their snuggling morphed into vigorous lovemaking. Afterwards, satiated and still entwined, they shared a short nap.

Finally, Beverly stirred, stretched her impressive body, and then stood to don her dress. Tom silently watched her dress, his heart pounding. That was the moment when a lesser man might have whined or begged for a second chance, but not Tom.

Still naked, he stood. Without being told, he lifted the blanket, folded it in half, and then laid across the trunk of that fallen tree. The base of the tree was thick and was supported fairly high on its root ball, but the far end was skinny and on the ground. He selected the waist-high center of the trunk for the blanket.

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It so happened that Tom was married to arguably the most experienced female disciplinarian in Texas. As the town's Deputy, it was Beverly's weekly duty to publicly thrash one or more prisoners on a platform in the Independence town square. These prisoners were overwhelmingly male, but the town didn't shrink from doing the same to females. Although it would happen in private, Tom would receive that same treatment that she dished out to prisoners. It would be private because Beverly had no desire to publicly humiliate her husband, nor would Tom have allowed it.

Some would think it unmanly for Tom to submit to his wife this way, but the opposite was true. Few men had the honesty to look their own misbehavior in the face, and then agree to receive their deserved punishment. Certainly few men were manly enough to voluntarily accept a thrashing from the famed Deputy Beverly Birch! But Tom was. So even though he preferred for his wife to be the dominant partner, Tom was a real man!

Part of the town's punishment procedure was to “empty” male prisoners shortly they were marched naked to the square for punishment. This virtually eliminated the incidence of public erections, whilst ensuring that prisoners received no sexual gratification from their punishment. Beverly took each man into the bathroom to do this. Her procedure was quick, dispassionate and clinical. Still, no man had yet complained!

For similar reasons, Beverly always ensured that Tom had an orgasm shortly before he was punished, but the procedure was far different than what she used for the prisoners! In fact, it was far more pleasurable for them both, and had become an important rite for them. This pre-punishment sex was a sort of “cleansing ritual”, a way for them to assure each other of their love and to demonstrate that there were no hard feelings on either side.

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His pillory prepared, Tom went to his discarded clothing and extracted his belt from his pants. Respectfully, he handed it over to Beverly.

Then came the part that Tom feared the worse, “the conversation”. Beverly didn't lecture her man. This was better described as a “guided discussion”. She asked Tom leading questions and demanded complete and honest answers. She took her time, leaving no issue uncovered, and never accepting vague or easy answers. They not only discussed his most recent misbehavior, but also previous episodes. They agreed on what he had done wrong, and how he should act in the future. Also, reluctantly, Tom agreed to a two-drink daily limit.

So finally it was time for Tom's punishment. Resorting to her usual Punishment Day procedure, Beverly asked “With or without?”. By that she meant “Do you wish to have your thrashing with or without a warm-up spanking?” Tom and tried it “without” once, and had learned the hard way, so they both knew what his answer would be, “Please Ma-am, I would like it 'with'.”

So Beverly took her naked husband by the hand and led him to the fallen tree. She chose an appropriate place to sit, and then Tom automatically placed himself across her lap. The spanking started without further ceremony. With or without this warmup spanking, Beverly would deliver the same thrashing. But just because this spanking didn't really count as part of Tom's punishment, didn't mean that it didn't hurt or that it was easy for Tom to take. Tom squirmed, kicked and gasped in pain as his wife spanked his buns and thighs to a bright pink patina.

Near the end, Beverly ordered, “Spread them”. By now, Tom was hurting but still dry-eyed. Tom had mixed emotions, he hated this part of a spanking, yet his inner thighs were fair game for the belt and therefore required preparation. With a groan he complied, spreading his legs uncomfortably apart. As Beverly professionally spanked those inner thighs pink, Tom fought the urge to snap his legs closed. By the time she had finished with that area, his eyes dripped his first tears.

Beverly noted those tears, and decided that it would be best to push him over the emotional edge. Thus, she delivered a final flurry of full-strength spanks to the fullest part of his bottom. Tom wailed and tried to twist as he absorbed those last few spanks.

Not wasting time, she took her sobbing man by the shoulder to help him up, and then led him the two steps to the waiting blanket-covered tree trunk. “You know the position Honey,” she ordered. “Legs wide apart. I know you don't want to be restrained, so try to hold position, OK?”

Tom nodded meekly and then assumed the proper position, spreadeagled and with his bottom prominent.

Beverly didn't fold the belt. Instead she wrapped it twice around her hand so that it left a single tail of manageable length. She took a stance to his left, measured the leather against his pink bottom, raised it high and then let fly. The leather slammed across the fullest part of his waiting buns, and then the supersonic tip wrapped around to dig malevolently into his right thigh. Tom had steeled himself, but couldn't avoid a scream.

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That scream is why Tom and Beverly had traveled way out onto the prairie that day. The townsfolk would never understand the couple's relationship, so the couple kept those intimate details private. Their house was on the edge of town and was tightly built, giving them sufficient privacy to conceal a normal spanking, but a thrashing was an entirely different thing! For that, they needed more privacy than could be found anywhere within the town limits of Independence, Texas. So that's why they were out at this place they called “South Branch” today. In their courting days, Tom and Beverly had found a few remote picnic areas that they had used for privacy. Even after their marriage, they used those places to escape town to find true togetherness. South Branch just happened to be the only one of them with a convenient fallen tree. Today wasn't the first time that tree had found a disciplinary purpose, and it wasn't likely the last.

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In Beverly's experienced and talented hands, each fall of that belt seemed to do double duty. The length of the leather would make a wide welt, but then that nasty tip would painfully bury itself into whatever nook or cranny of Tom's anatomy she had targeted.

Her second swat was a perfect example. Although the first swat had cut across both to Tom's firm mounds, she varied the second swat by stepping back a few inches so that the leather only cut halfway across his trembling bottom. Thus the leather welted only his left buttock, but that wicked and versatile tip painfully grazed the inner curve of his right mound before spending the rest of its energy placing a long-lasting little bruise inside his nether cleft. In spite of himself, Tom screeched!

Expertly, patiently and thoroughly Beverly proceeded to deliver a thrashing to her husband that was the equal to what she regularly gave prisoners in the public square. To ensure that she didn't miss the tiniest spot, she swapped sides several times, having good aim with either hand.

Because he wasn't tied down, she had to pause occasionally to correct his position. As long as he was trying hard to cooperate, she didn't access penalty strokes. Instead, she believed that the prolonging of his punishment was penalty enough. It was especially hard for him to keep his legs apart so that the strap could visit his inner thighs. Here, Beverly was especially careful to miss her husband's dangling manhood.

Taking full advantage of their wild and remote site, Tom made no attempt to stay silent. His wails could probably carried for a mile, but there was no reasonable possibility that anyone would hear. Bossie twitched her ears at the din, but was accustomed to the strange games that her humans sometimes played. She assumed (with some accuracy) that this was human mating behavior. Tomorrow, Tom's throat would hurt almost as much as his bottom.

Just as Beverly knew how to properly thrash a prisoner, she also knew when to stop. She knew how to make a bottom uncomfortable for several days, without causing any lasting injury. So at the proper time, she laid the belt on the tree trunk next to her squalling husband and then knelt to comfort him. After embracing him until he came to his senses, she helped him to his feet, and then released him to dance and rub to his heart's content.

When his tears finally slowed, they shared a long embrace and a few mutually forgiving words. When her man finally seemed somewhat recovered, Beverly hitched Bossie to the wagon, spread the blanket in the rear, and helped her still-naked husband into the rear, where he laid face-down. When she was sure that Bossie was on the correct trail, she tied the reins and crawled into the back to cuddle with him.

Only when they neared the main road did they stop long enough for Tom to painfully dress himself. As they neared the town he painfully eased himself into the seat to maintain appearances by pretending to drive. He even waved at a few folks as they drove through town towards the sanctuary of their home.

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Tom had the rest of the weekend to recover. On Sunday morning that hard pew was too much for him to face, so Beverly went to church without him. When asked, she honestly claimed that Tom was feeling “a bit under the weather”.

Monday he discreetly used a cushion at his desk in the bank office.

More importantly, that punishment ended Tom's drinking problems. Obediently, Tom adhered to that two-drink limit for the rest of his life as he and Beverly happily grew old together.

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