It Works Two Ways

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It Works Two Ways

The naked lady laying across her husband's lap was middle aged, but she was desirable in a way that only a woman her vintage can be. She took care of herself, remaining basically slim and toned. Still, the years had rounded her lines in a pleasing way, plus childbirth had spread her hips, arguably enhancing the lines of her bottom. To her husband, “straight arrow” Sam, the effect was forever arousing. In her present position, bottom-up over Sam's lap, you couldn't see that her belly was still remarkably flat and that her breasts remained firm, but that was the truth. In short, her years had only added to her sexiness, and to her spankability.

Married, and totally devoted to her husband for nearly thirty years, Ethyl certainly had the advantage of sexual experience, at least when it came to “doing it” with Sam. In bed, Sam and Ethyl played each other's bodies like first-chair musicians.

But today, Ethyl wasn't across Sam's lap for a mere “slap & tickle” session or for foreplay: No, she was there to be punished! Ethyl had been careless with their banking, resulting in bounced checks. She recognized her guilt and had been the first to suggest that she had earned a spanking.

Using only his hand as always, Sam commenced to deliver the expected punishment.

Ethyl's spanking progressed in the way that spankings do. Her bottom first showed overlapping red handprints, as she squirmed and gasped under his corporal attentions, and then he carefully and lovingly spread out his spanks until he achieved a uniform and quickly deepening blush across her entire nether region. By then, the lady was shedding real tears.

Ethyl knew that her husband would be aroused, he always was when he spanked her. As she bounced on his lap, she could feel the evidence of his arousal jabbing her in the lower abdomen.

Finally, Ethyl's spanking progressed to what Sam called the “loud part”. That was when he was firmly holding her as he delivered the last and the hardest spanks to her bouncing bottom, and her cries were loud, frantic and truly beyond her control. Some spankings were harder and longer than others, but Sam always knew when the lesson had been learned, and when to end the punishment. He always spanked her bottom red, but he was never severe with his cherished wife.

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When Sam and Ethyl had been a young couple contemplating marriage, they had decided that theirs would be an “old fashioned” marriage. They both envisioned Sam as the head of their household, but not as a dictator. Instead, Sam and Ethyl would be nearly equal partners, except that Sam would have the “tiebreaker” vote if, after suitable discussion, they couldn't agree. That way they both would have input in big decisions, and each had a right to have his or her viewpoint heard and suitably considered by the other. It's just that Sam would have the final “say so” if they couldn't reach a mutual compromise. But as it turned out, Sam and Ethyl were such reasonable folks that there had never been a need for him to exercise that authority.

Both of them came from spanking families. In the early days of their relationship, (pre-Internet) they had come across a copy of Dorothy Spencer's “Spencer Spanking Plan”. They read it, and it seemed reasonable to them both. Yes, it called for either partner to punish the other, but Sam was such a “straight arrow” that he had little concern about his ability to follow reasonable household rules, and therefore no concern about actually being spanked. Besides, Sam was a few years older than Ethyl, and the more mature partner.

Anyhow, over the next three decades Sam occasionally spanked Ethyl, but the reverse never happened. Ethyl's spankings were infrequent, but she always agreed that those spankings were fair. Following the Spencer rules, Sam spanked only with his hand. There is no need for modesty in marriage, so Ethyl was always spanked nude, while Sam remained dressed to underline that this was punishment, not sex.

Sam would have liked to deny it, but part of him enjoyed performing this occasional corporal duty. Since evidence of his arousal was embarrassingly obvious, he and Ethyl had forthrightly discussed the issue. Even Ethyl admitted to her own spanking-related arousal, but it was different for her. Ethyl honestly dreaded her spankings and tried to avoid them, but her arousal always came post-spanking. Sitting in Sam's lap with a freshly-spanked bottom, luxuriating in his love, forgiveness and aftercare, she always became unusually passionate once her tears dried.

After spanking his wife, Sam would always be left internally seething with desire, but he would abstain from any advances until she had indulged in her post- spanking cry, her tears had dried and her bottom-sting had somewhat faded. After that, he could depend on Ethyl to make the first move.

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Back at the spanking chair, Sam had finally spanking Ethyl.

Sam had spanked her still-firm bottom until she was crying those special cries that told him he should end the punishment. But then it took her several moments to realize that it was truly over. By then, Sam was rubbing her back and cooing softly into her ear. He held her on his lap until her crying slowed, paused to let her get over her hiccups, and then finally, tenderly, helped his darling up. As always, she climbed into his lap and embraced him to indulge in a final crying jag. As he held his stricken but quickly recovering wife, he struggled to tamp down his own arousal.

When she finally stopped crying they shared words of mutual forgiveness, and then the tension between them was gone.

She didn't always do this, but tonight it felt right; she slid off of his lap, knelt between his legs, opened his zipper, and fished out his rigid manhood. He gasped in delight as she gave it several wet kisses. Finally, impulsively, she twirled her tongue around it several times. He lifted himself from the chair, gasped, and then warned her to stop! As great as it would feel let her get him off, he had plans involving her and their bed. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them for him to lose his “mother load” prematurely.

So he led her into the bedroom, somehow undressing himself in the process. They flopped onto the bed, and neither gave foreplay a moment's thought, going straight to the “main event”. As typocal after one of Ethyl's spankings, their lovemaking was explosive.

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There had been nothing particularly notable about Ethyl's spanking that evening. Her spankings weren't frequent, but over the last thirty years of their marriage there had been dozens. So this was neither the first time that her “straight arrow” husband had spanked her, nor was it destined to be the last. It had been a spanking that Ethyl had unquestionably earned, and one that Sam had lovingly and firmly delivered. These spankings secured the fabric and foundation of their marriage, so neither partner wished to end them.

“Straight arrow” was a defining characteristic of Sam's personality, encompassing both his personal life and his career. Because he never resorted to deception or trickery and was a man whose word was “like gold,” he did well in business. Sam's golden reputation propelled his climb up the ladder in his corporation. But it was a step up that ladder that triggered an incident that was to become a memorable milestone in Sam and Ethyl's marriage.

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Sam's immediate superior was retiring, and Sam was selected to fill his shoes. At the office there had been the usual cake-cutting reception on the man's last day, but everyone agreed to meet at a bar after work for a more informal celebration of both that man's retirement and Sam's promotion. Usually “straight arrow” Sam (who never smoked and rarely drank), avoided these gatherings, but this one was partly in his honor, so he couldn't refuse. So after dutifully informing Ethyl that he would be home late, Sam met his co-workers at the bar.

Apparently the bartender misunderstood his drink order for a “very light” rum & Coke. Sam's inexperience with drinking, remarkable for his age, prevented him from detecting that his first drink was strong! He had intended for subsequent drinks to be alcohol-free, but several friends bought for the entire group, and that first drink had addled his mind.

Perhaps stupidly and irresponsibly, after a few drinks everyone else filtered from the bar, leaving Sam alone. To their defense though, Sam was quietly nursing his drink and not acting drunk. Being a “straight arrow” he didn't want to waste an expensive drink, so he quietly sat there until he had finished every drop. Only then did he make his unsteady way to his car.

He didn't remember the trip, but somehow he made it home.

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Having been warned that Sam wasn't coming straight home, Ethyl made a stew to simmer until her man appeared. So she thought nothing of it when she heard his car in the drive and then heard him at the back door. He entered the kitchen, and at first Ethyl failed to recognize the stiff, careful walk of a dignified drunk. She kissed him, and was shocked by the rum fumes. His facade of normalcy cracked when the food smells twisted his gut. He pushed his wife aside and stumbled to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching into it. Only then did Ethyl realize that her “straight arrow” husband was dead drunk. Worse, he had obviously driven himself home!

The rest of the evening was a trial. Sam was sick, mostly with painful dry heaves. She couldn't share the bed with him because he complained that her movement made him seasick. She couldn't leave him alone, so she spent an uncomfortable night on a bedside chair.

The following morning he was hung over, but insisted on going to work. She fed him a breakfast of dry toast and coffee. As he ate, he apologized several times. She kissed him goodbye with her usual passion, but added, “Sam, we need to talk about this.” He meekly agreed, and then left. In thirty years, this was the first time she had ever said those words to her “straight arrow” husband, especially in that tone of voice!

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All morning, Ethyl stewed about what to do with Sam. Should she just accept his apology and leave it at that? No! This was too serious. Obviously he could have killed himself, wrecking their car in the process. Besides the horror of losing the man she loved, that would leave her without support and without transportation. Hell, he could have killed some innocent person! So she had to take action, dramatic action! But what?

Strangely, it was almost noon before she remembered that old document that was supposed to regulate their marriage. There might be some ideas there!

It took a search, but she found it with their wedding memorabilia under their old picture album. It was a few yellowed mimeographed sheets titled “The Spencer Spanking Plan”. Attached to it was a handwritten list of rules that the couple had agreed to three decades ago. High on that list was, “No drunk driving”.

Her memory was correct, the “Plan” did indeed call for the spanking of either spouse: “Men are to be whipped. A light leather strap, a wooden paddle or ruler can be employed to administer the punishment with. Wives must use extreme care, however, not to cut the flesh, raise welts or injure the recipients in any way.”

Looking further, Sam had signed the documents. Being a “straight arrow”, Sam had surely read carefully anything that he had affixed his signature to. If he signed it, it meant he had agreed to it. Further, as a matter of principle, it meant that he would abide by its every word. Still, he might need some reminding!

That left two questions on Ethyl's mind, 1) Did Sam remember that their “Spencer” contract worked two ways? And, 2) Was he thinking about it?

Different scenarios ran through her mind. As she perused the old document, it became increasingly clear to her what must happen. For the first time ever, it would be her responsibility to redden her husband's bottom. Would Sam give in easily? Would he need convincing? Or might he insist on being punished?

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That afternoon, Sam arrived home from work as usual. His mood was serious and morose. Ignoring the set supper table, he hugged his wife and sat her down in the living room. Holding her gaze, he announced, “You said we should talk. Well, I suppose I deserve whatever you are about to say. So I'm listening”.

Ethyl didn't hold back! First, she reminded him of how much she loved him and what he meant to her. And then she painted a word picture of how dismal and empty her life would be if he had died in a drunken car wreck. She explained that it wasn't the drunkenness itself that was the problem, but that he had driven drunk! Why not call a cab?

Finally, she handed him the yellowed old document with the list of hand-written rules that the couple had crafted together so many years ago. She pointed to one rule in particular, “Would you read that please Sam?”

His ears reddened as he recognized the document. Obediently he read, “No drunk driving.”

“Did you break that rule Sam?”

He nodded morosely as he perused the document and the accompanying rules. To enforce those very rules, he had spanked Ethyl many times. Now he was remembering that those rules worked both ways.

He saw the words that he had agreed to: “From this date on it is my wish to have my conduct regulated by the enforcement of these doctrines. I give my wife, therefore, the full right to whip me whenever she feels such discipline would prove helpful and be in accordance with the spirit of the Spencer Plan.

I promise to cooperate with my wife faithfully in carrying out this agreement. I will get ready for the punishment promptly when asked to do so and I will bear my wife no ill-will for so disciplining me.”

He understood that he had, for the first time ever, given his wife cause to spank him. Further, sensing the trajectory of this conversation, it was clear that she planned to do just that!

But then he saw one passage that seemed to provide a way for him preserve a precious bit of his male dignity: “I also promise to ask for whippings when I feel I need or deserve them.”

Immediately, Sam knew what to do, “Ethyl, I've decided that I deserve to be punished. Before this festers any further, will you please do that now? And I mean do it mercilessly until you've paddled or whipped my bottom bright red until I'm howling for mercy! Will you do that for me? Please?”

New tears formed in Ethyl's eyes, and she almost sobbed with relief that she wouldn't be faced with the problem of convincing Sam that he must be spanked.

“Yes Sam, I'll do that. At least, I'll give it my best shot.”

They embraced tightly. Each could feel the other's emotion and hear the other's furious heartbeat. They hugged for a long moment. Finally, after a quick kiss he held his woman at arm's length and spoke decisively, “Okay, I'll close the curtains and get undressed.”

As she watched, he closed the curtains over their picture window, kicked off his shoes, and then methodically undressed. His ears reddened again as his thumbs hooked the elastic of his briefs.

As Sam stood naked before her, she reflected that although he was no Adonis, her man remained a desirable specimen, even at nearly fifty.

He looked at her questioningly, “Err, should I fetch our spanking chair or do you want me in some other position.”

She produced a familiar heirloom hairbrush that she had earlier concealed under a newspaper. It was the brush that his parents had used on his bottom back in his childhood, but had lain idle for nearly forty years.

He smiled tightly when he realized that his wife had hidden that old brush with the full expectation of using it today. “Oh well” he thought, “At least it isn't a belt”.

“Nicely played,” he said with admiration, “I guess that means we will need The Chair?”

Now that the moment was near, her voice betrayed her nerves, “Yes Sam, The Chair please.”

“The Chair” normally graced their mud room. A sturdy armless chair of indeterminate age, its worn gray paint hinted at an institutional history. Most visitors would assume that the old chair was there simply to provide a handy perch for pulling on boots, but Sam and Ethyl knew better. Early in their marriage they had found it in a second-hand store, and had purchased it primarily to fulfill its corporal function.

Sam disappeared just long enough to fetch The Chair. He placed it in the center of the living room, their usual spanking venue.

Fully dressed in slacks and blouse, Ethyl took her unaccustomed place on the spanking chair, placing the brush within easy reach. Automatically, Sam moved to her right thigh. “I don't know how I'm going to act,” he admitted nervously, “but if I beg you to stop just keep on spanking. My spanking isn't over until you say it's over. Drunk driving is serious, so I deserve a butt-buster of a spanking.”

“I'm determined to do just that,” Ethyl promised, “so let's get you into position.”

Awkwardly, Sam laid across his wife's lap. He was heavy, but she could bear it. After some adjustment, and an order for Sam to grip the chair legs, she looked down at her husband's white ass-cheeks with professional interest.

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Although Ethyl had been happy that Sam effectively sentenced himself to this spanking, she felt that she must now establish a new, and uneasy, temporary dynamic. After thirty years of Sam being the lead partner in their marriage, it was time to temporarily, but emphatically, swap roles with him. For the next few minutes Ethyl must establish herself as indisputably in charge.

So she decided to set expectations, “Sam, are you listening?”

“Yes ma-am”.

Except in jest, he had never called her “ma-am” before. This time he clearly wasn't jesting. She took that as a good sign.

“Here's the deal Sam. For the duration you will grip those chair legs, and stay in position across my lap. I'll do this spanking my way, and you should expect 'my way' to be painful and unpleasant. Like you said, this spanking isn't over until I say it's over. Do we agree so far?”

“Yes ma-am”.

“Good Sam, good! And now the important part. Once your spanking is over, once the sting subsides, this issue is settled. You won't be angry that I roasted your bottom, and I'll forgive your drunk driving. Is that a deal?”

“Yes ma-am, that's totally fair.”

“Hang on tight then Sam, because time is wasting!”

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Now that she had Sam over her lap and ready, Ethyl felt it imperative to totally “take charge” of the situation, meaning that this spanking would be totally on her terms. Well, she surely knew Sam's spanking routine on a very personal basis, so hers would be different! She assumed that Sam would expect her to begin like he did, but her plan was different.

Ethyl raised her hand and brought it down smartly … to the middle Sam's right thigh. Then, totally ignoring his buttocks, she quickly started raining medium-force spanks all over his thighs! The surprise and pain took his breath away, but then he bellowed in indignant outrage, “Ouch! Damn! You can't do that. That's not fair!”

She paused, her response ready, “You're honestly saying that I can't spank your thighs? You've spanked mine!”

He sputtered, tried to form a coherent sentence explaining how different it was when the thigh-spanking wasn't expected and when the buttocks weren't properly spanked first. But then he realized that the distinction simply wasn't logical.

Almost too quietly to be heard, he admitted, “Yes, I guess it works two ways.”

“Then let's continue,” Ethyl announced, before restarting the spanking, imparting a nasty sting to his thighs while still leaving the rest of his bottom temporarily untouched. Sam twisted and squirmed under the assault. At one point he started to reach a hand back, but quickly realized that his arm wasn't long enough to protect the area that Ethyl was spanking.

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Ethyl knew her man! Even though he was a loving husband, Sam was a “straight arrow”, and “straight arrows” tend to hide their emotions. So Ethyl's goal for this spanking was more psychological than physical. Although Sam had dutifully apologized multiple times for his drunk driving, he had always done so dry-eyed, as though apologizing for a bad business deal or for some minor mishap. To ensure that Sam really forgave himself, Ethyl felt that she must break through his stolid emotional barrier, but wished to do it with a minimum of physical harshness. His temporary outrage was a beginning, but now she needed to drive him to real tears. She wanted to minimize use of the hairbrush, but was afraid that she wasn't strong enough to hand-spank his bottom hard enough to do the job, so that's why she concentrated her hand spanking on his tender thighs.

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Squirming and writhing under the assault, Sam first tried reasoning with his wife, but quickly resorted to begging, “Honey please! Please spank me somewhere else?” Unmoved, she implacably continued to briskly deliver those modest, but maddeningly stinging spanks to that tender target. Soon his entreaties morphed into incoherence. At this point, Ethyl believed that Sam was attempting to conceal his sobs, to make them sound like something that might be mistaken for words. She wished that she could see if he were shedding tears, but sensed that he was close. So it was time to switch targets.

To his temporary relief she finally switched her attention to his buttocks and sit-spots. On this more robust anatomy, she felt safe spanking harder and faster. At first Sam calmed a bit, but as sting inevitably built in this area, he again started to squirm and vocalize.

Unfortunately, Ethyl soon had to quit that treatment. The act of punishing her husband's bottom was hurting her hand. To save her hand, she reached for the hairbrush.

She explained: “Sam, you're stronger than me, so I won't try to restrain you. I intend to hurt your bottom with this hairbrush. If you cooperate, this brush will only visit your ass-cheeks and sit-spots, but if you reach back or give me any other trouble, I'll use it on your thighs. Is that clear?”

Sam grunted and nodded.

“Good,” Ethyl enthused, “We're adults, so I won't scold you, but keep in mind why you are being spanked. It's about drunk driving, something you will never do again. Is that what you're thinking about right now Sam?”

His response could only be classified as an affirmative sob.

“Good,” she said, “Then let's finish this thing.”

She breathed deeply, raised the hairbrush high over his pink bottom, and then let fly!

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It had been three decades since that hairbrush had visited Sam's bottom. Poor Sam quickly learned that adulthood had granted him no immunity from the sting and pain that it could bring him. Having already been brought near his emotional limits, that hairbrush very quickly overcame his restraint. At first he yelled “I'm sorry, I'm sorry”, but then he simply wailed his anguish before dissolving into unmistakable loud bawling.

To Sam it felt like he had a blowtorch aimed at his bottom. Grimly he gripped the chair legs and tried to ride out the pain as he bawled. He was vaguely aware that his feet were no longer on the floor, which meant that they were waving in the air somewhere, but the growing sting in his bottom was a larger concern.

Sam didn't even know when it happened, but of its own accord his right hand must have drifted back to cover his bottom. Fortunately, Ethyl saw it coming and narrowly avoided whacking the errant hand as it slid between the fast-moving hairbrush and Sam's bright red bottom. Ethyl paused, and then with flicks of her wrist, popped each of his thighs with the brush. The blows were just enough to sting impressively, but without damage.

Her voice firm but not harsh, Ethyl warned Sam to keep his hands on the chair legs. “If you do that again Sam, I won't hold back and your thighs will hurt for days. We're almost done, so hang on and try to ride it out.”

And then she put that hairbrush back to work, briskly reddening Sam's buttocks and sit-spots.

Having been periodically spanked by Sam, and spanked as a child, Ethyl was well acquainted with the mechanics of spanking. Also, having inspected her own freshly-spanked bottom many times, she knew that bottoms change color when properly spanked. But this was the first time that Ethyl had ever viewed a spanking in progress. She was amazed that the brush left a white spot, which almost immediately flushed to red. And then as she spanked, those red splotches gradually melted together into an over-all red patina. If she neglected an area, its lighter hue served as a tattletale. Quickly Ethyl gained confidence, but still she didn't want to overdo it. A bright red bottom and a genuinely tearful husband were her signals to end the spanking.

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In a complete reversal of their normal roles, the still-naked, red-bottomed man sat astride his wife's lap and hugged her tight as he cried out his last tears. When he finally regained his composure, she handed him his t-shirt to mop his face.

“Okay Sam,” she said in a loving voice, “You took your punishment like a man. Now you've learned your lesson and you've earned my full forgiveness. So now you must forgive yourself and it's time for us to revert to our usual roles.” So that there would be no mistaking what those roles should be, she kissed him deeply and caressed between his legs. She felt a quick response!

Soon their hugs, kisses, and mutual explorations became increasingly ardent. They were still on The Chair, but never before had they done this with her sitting and him facing her. That different gave him an idea, a simple concept: He thought of the post-spanking “tongue jobs” that Ethyl sometimes gave him, and of fairness and reciprocation.

His voice muffled by her cleavage, he remarked “You know Ethyl, this Chair can work two ways”.

Without further explanation, he slid down to his knees, and then lovingly removed her shoes and stockings. With new confidence in his voice, he commanded “Lift up your beautiful butt for just a moment.”

To her excitement, he unbuttoned her slacks and then prized down slacks and panties together. He pulled the bunched garments right off, kissing each foot in the process.

“Perch on the edge of The Chair Honey, and flaunt those sexy inner thighs for me!”

With eager alacrity she complied, spreading her knees wide. He nuzzled and kissed her silken thighs, teasing her, but also giving and taking pleasure as he gradually zeroed in on his target. His hands cupped her bottom cheeks as his tongue finally reached it's goal. Ethyl's bare bottom bounced on The Chair as she soared towards her first orgasm of the evening.

They snuggled briefly, and then Sam started again.

Just as Sam had taken Ethyl to the brink of her second explosion, he stopped and stood. With both of them literally vibrating with desire, he led her to the bedroom, where an evening of incandescent lovemaking awaited them.

Sam and Ethyl discovered that evening that Dorothy Spencer was right; domestic discipline really can work two ways.

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