Grace subconsciously chewed at her thumbnail; proof enough of her nervousness if she did but realise she was doing it. She sat at the dining room table glancing occasionally out the window and down the street, wondering what time Paul would make it home. The table was set with two places, candles, best china and Grace was wearing Paul’s favourite outfit, a pale lemon dress that swirled about her knees and swayed seductively when she walked. She rather hoped that the dress would put him in a good mood.
All afternoon she had been dreading this moment, knowing that a row was in the offing. She knew she shouldn’t have done it, she knew it when she organised it, she knew it when it was being done and she certainly knew it when it was all over and finished and she couldn’t understand why on earth she had gone through with it. Paul had made it clear that they couldn’t afford a new dining room suite just yet and that it would be more prudent to wait until the New Years Sales to begin before they thought of changing the one they had. But Grace had been unable to resist the mahogany table and matching chairs that went with it when she saw it 3 weeks ago. She had only intended to ask the shop assistant if there was a chance of retaining it until the sales were on.
Perhaps it was the sneer-like smile that the woman gave her along with her comment of ‘Oh no, Madam, I’m afraid that’s impossible. This is the last one that we have and it cannot be reserved’ that had made Grace cave in and place a deposit on it there and then. £1700 for a matching mahogany table and chairs wasn’t that expensive… was it? Not considering the quality of the wood and the way that it would perfectly compliment the rest of the furniture in the house… it really was a golden opportunity. In which case, why hadn’t Grace explained all this to Paul? In fact, why hadn’t she even mentioned that she had gone ahead and bought the table without his knowledge, let alone his permission?
Well… that wasn’t quite right… she didn’t feel that she had to ask his permission for things, theirs wasn’t that sort of relationship. All their decisions were taken jointly after discussing whatever it was, thoroughly. Sometimes Grace would see Paul’s point of view and change her opinion and sometimes it was the other way round and Grace had always in the past considered herself lucky that this was so. She did admit to herself that she tended to get her own way slightly more than Paul did, but if he gave in to her demands, then he obviously didn’t have very strong feelings about the point in question in the first place. That was always how Grace had viewed it and it acted as a salve to her conscience when she, very occasionally, admitted to herself that she might have railroaded Paul just a little bit.
They didn’t have a volatile relationship, they hardly ever rowed really but it was very frustrating for her when they did. Paul would maintain what could otherwise be called a ‘dignified silence’ whenever he was annoyed with Grace. It wasn’t sulking because that wasn’t in his nature but he would show his displeasure with her by being singularly unforthcoming when it came to conversation. The silences were becoming more and more regular though and that was something that Grace couldn’t bear. Very often when Paul sat serenely in the lounge with his feet up after one of their ‘upsets’, she would find herself flinging herself onto their bed in a temper and raging against him in her mind. How could you argue with someone who didn’t answer back? Very often she had cried in frustration that he wasn’t more demonstrative with his moods.
However, Grace was fervently hoping that this was going to be one of those occasions that Paul decided to go with his dignified silences although she had the feeling that it wasn’t going to be so. Instinct told her that she might have gone a bit too far this time and this was going to result in a full blown argument.
As she mused on this point, her hand stroked the top of the table that, although was aesthetically pleasing to her, no longer held her attention. Her mind had wandered to her relationship with Paul. She did love him, she really did, but there were times when she wished that he had a bit more… ’Umpf’ in him. He really was too malleable at times although she recognised that if she thought that, why did she continue to do it? Because she could, was the answer to that one she surmised.
He could be stern; she’d seen him do it with his family when he’d intervened in their numerous squabbles to keep the peace. It wasn’t so much that he really was stern with them, more so that they were shocked into silence by his raised voice. As if they knew that, even though his anger wasn’t real, the fact that he felt he had to ‘take charge’ meant that things had gone far enough. That was normally enough to bring them all back to their senses and Grace could sit in the aftermath and quietly admire her husband and embrace the small thrill that ran through her at his postulating. He only ever did it with them though; he had never tried to act bossy with Grace as it was normally her who led in their relationship.
Even in their bedroom she was the one who instigated things. Anything new that was tried came from her voicing a desire to branch out and try something different. As in the latest fad of erotic spankings. She’d read one of those soppy old books where the heroine had been pulled across the lap of her intended and spanked thoroughly because of her cheek and for being ‘uppity’. The story had ended, as they all do, with the woman submitting passionately to her swain and although Grace ridiculed it at the time, the idea had stuck in her mind. Hence the suggestion to Paul that he might like to give her a few smacks on the bottom when they were making love… just to see if it had any effect. It had! Not enough to send her writhing in ecstasy but it had been pleasant enough. She thought the problem had been that Paul wasn’t doing it right, understandable really if he hadn’t ever done it before, but it was a bit off putting to be having to give him instructions on exactly how, where and how hard to smack her. She’d even gone so far as to order a leather paddle in the shape of a slipper although they had only used it once, and Paul had only got in 2 smacks with it before she had ordered him to stop. Not one of her better decisions she thought to herself; she hadn’t been prepared for the tremendous sting that it delivered. She had buried it deep in the back of a bedroom drawer where it could remain and gather dust as far as she was concerned. She told herself that she was content enough with the gentle smacks that Paul gave her.
Grace was brought back to the present by the click of the front door shutting as her husband arrived home and she shot to her feet flustered that she hadn’t had time to prepare herself mentally for his arrival. Paul found her standing in the dining room frozen in panic as he made his way down the hall, planted in front of the table as if to hide it.
Grace was not happy to see his mouth tighten and a steely look come into his eyes as he walked slowly into the dining room and stepping round her, looked on in amazement at the gleaming new table that stood there. He slowly turned his head towards Grace and raised one eyebrow in question which caused her to blush as a sense of guilt swept over her.
“Care to explain?” he asked in a sterner tone than she had ever heard him use before.
Grace managed to stutter a “U-um…” before her throat dried up. She took a deep breath, gathered forces and weakly offered “It’s our new dining table… er… it was on special offer you see…” before all thought of further excuses were swept away. She gave a hopeful smile, which wasn’t returned.
“I thought we’d agreed to wait until the New Year’s Sales before we decided on what we were going to buy?” asked Paul in what in hindsight seemed a deceptively mild voice.
“I-I know, but… well, it really was a bargain… considering the quality…” she trailed off as Paul interrupted her.
“How much?” he asked.
“How much?” he queried again when she didn’t answer.
Grace bit her lower lip before mumbling “£1700”.
With great restraint Paul took a deep breath and said “You spent £1700 on a table and 6 chairs? …and why exactly did you buy 6 chairs when you know that we had agreed on 4? There are only 2 of us and we hardly ever have more than 2 guests to dinner at a time… and on the occasions that we do, we have 2 extra chairs in the study that are perfectly usable!” Paul’s voice became deeper and deeper with each phrase until it seemed to rumble through her.
She offered a timid, “They came as a set… it’s an extendable table… and it had to be all or nothing,” hoping that he accepted this excuse.
After staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, he announced, “Well you can ring the shop tomorrow and get them to come and take it back – it’s not stopping.”
“I can’t do that!” wailed Grace in dismay. She had no idea whether the shop would accept it back but no way was she going to face up to the snooty staff there and admit that her husband had put his foot down and demanded that she return it. “T-they said there was no return on it,” she lied feebly.
As she nervously watched a myriad of emotions run across her husband’s face, ranging between exasperation to anger, she steeled herself for the row that was about to follow, and thought to herself that she should have turned the gas down on the cooker that was bubbling away happily under the dinner that she had prepared for him as a tentative consolation… or bribe?
Paul glared at her for a long while as if trying to make up his mind as to what stance to take. He nodded decidedly to himself and without a word left the room and went upstairs, presumably to change, thought Grace.
‘Oh well, it’s going to be dignified silence then’ she thought to herself. Well, she could put up with that, she’d had enough practice.
As she returned to the kitchen to check on the dinner she pondered her husband’s reaction. There had been a point where she thought that he really was going to shout at her but he’d seemed to come to some inner decision and pull back.
She heard him walking about upstairs and the sound of the shower being run, followed by the thud of his shoes as he kicked them off. Grace busied herself in the kitchen, calculating how long Paul was going to be so that she could serve dinner when he came down. It wasn’t how she’d planned eating their first meal at their new table. Maybe once he’d showered and changed and saw that she had made his favourite dish; they could have a nominally pleasant meal with at least some sort of communication between them.
She heard drawers being opened and closed as he looked for something comfortable to wear no doubt and then his footsteps as he came heavily downstairs. Grace checked the kitchen clock and was surprised to see that hardly any time had gone by, Paul normally took ages in the shower and she was a little miffed that she hadn’t had time to lay out the dinner for him in the hope of it acting as a peace offering.
He called to her from the dining room and she wiped her hands and went in to him thinking that at least he was verbally speaking to her, placing a hopefully consolatory smile on her face as she went. The smile had problems staying in place when she entered the room to find that Paul had moved one of the chairs out from the table and was standing beside it in what could only be considered as a completely unresponsive stance.
Even more alarming was the leather slipper sole that Grace had bought which was sitting beside her plate as though part of her place setting.
He couldn’t honestly think that this was an ideal time for some erotic play surely? And she’d already told him that he was not to use that ever again.
“Maybe you haven’t realised yet Grace, but I’m extremely pissed off with you,” he almost growled at her. Grace’s eyes flew open not only at the tone of his voice but at his speech and the fact that he was calling her to task. She had the horrible feeling that things were not going well.
“I know you’re upset darling…” she interrupted him in an attempt to head this conversation in the direction that she wanted it to go.
“Be quiet! I haven’t finished with you yet!” Grace was so astonished by his attitude that she did exactly what he told her… she shut up.
“I’m fed up with this Grace. I’m fed up with the way that you do as you bloody well please all the time and think that you can get away with it – well, it stops right here and now! If you can’t willingly offer me the respect that, as your husband, should be forthcoming, then I’m going to take it by force.”
Grace had a sinking feeling in her stomach that the axis of her relationship with Paul had just pivoted 180 degrees and even though her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and shame at what he was saying to her, there was a small infinitesimal shiver that ran through her at his new attitude. The shiver transformed to something larger when her eye once again caught sight of the leather slipper on the table. Surely he couldn’t mean to…? …no, he wouldn’t do that, not seriously! She tried to convince herself but failed miserably.
She stood in horror as Paul gave her the most thorough telling off that she had ever experienced, while he outlined the basis for what was going to be the new regime in their household. For every ‘surprise’ purchase she made without previous discussion she was going to receive a spanking… with the slipper sole. He seemed to think it poignant that one of her rash purchases be the instrument to deal with future ones.
“Don’t be ridiculous Paul, you can’t do that - I won’t stand for it!” she at last managed to splutter as she fought very hard not to stamp her foot.
“Oh you won’t be standing for it, you’ll be lying over my lap for it, although I fully expect there to be a fair amount of standing afterwards because I intend to make sure that it’s too painful for you to sit down for a long time,” snapped Paul.
He looked at the chairs that adorned the table and continued. “In fact, talking of sitting down, I’m sure you’re going to be very glad in the end that you bought these particular chairs because the padded seat here is going to be the only thing that your bottom is going to be able to tolerate. And, while we’re at it, you might as well know right now that I’m not at all sure you won’t get a spanking for each and every item you’ve purchased today, one a day until the debt is paid off.” As Grace’s eyes widened in horror he asked sardonically, “Aren’t you glad you went for the 6 chairs after all?”
“Now, come here!” he continued in a voice that indicated that he had no more to say on the matter and was now keen to get on with the action.
Grace shivered on the spot and moved not one inch. Surely this was a bad dream and she would wake up in a minute tucked up in bed beside her normally easy-going husband. She considered pinching herself to see if it was true or not, the theory being that you didn’t feel pain when you were dreaming. She sincerely hoped that was true because she had the feeling that she was due quite a bit of pain. As she admitted that to herself, she realised that she had been moving towards this moment since she first stepped inside the furniture shop, perhaps even longer. All that Paul had said was true… she was disrespectful towards him at times… she did show a level of rudeness that she wouldn’t dream of doing to other people. The fact that he had let her get away with it for so long wasn’t an excuse; her love for him should have helped control her attitude.
“I’m not going to tell you again, Grace… Come Here!”
Although she didn’t realise it what Paul wanted was for her to concede. He could have just grabbed her and thrown her across his knee but that to him would have been tantamount to abuse. He wanted her to see the error of her ways and to admit that he did have the right to be angry and consequently felt the need to correct her bad behaviour. She was an impulsive woman and he loved her for it. He didn’t want to beat that impulsiveness out of her; he just wanted her to be cognisant of the repercussions. The ones that were about to take place and the ones that he fully intended to take place in the future. All he wanted from her now was a sign that she accepted his position as, if not head of the household, then someone who deserved more respect than she was wont to show him. He didn’t expect her to start calling him Sir or to be openly submissive to him, no way was that in Grace’s nature, he didn’t even expect her to be docile in accepting her spanking, but he did want that she acknowledge that it was deserved, in whatever manner her personality allowed her.
He could see the battle going on behind her eyes, she knew she had gone too far this time but her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit it out loud. Ever since she’d instigated the play spankings that they participated in and then bought the leather paddle, Paul had had the idea that this was where they were going to end up. He’d just been waiting for Grace to push herself into a corner that she couldn’t conceivably get out of without this being the natural conclusion. Until that happened, he’d been content with letting her call the shots over how their play spankings had evolved; that had been for her pleasure - this was different.
Paul watched as Grace gave her sign, although being Grace she had to take a last stand of course.
“Paul… I-I don’t want to,” she pleaded as she took one small step forward. Paul looked upon that step as consent.
“This house has seen a bit too much of what you want and not enough of what you need!” he answered as he met her half-way in her struggle and reached out to firmly take hold of her wrist to pull her forward. Her resistance still showed though in that she didn’t go willingly but neither did she put up what could be called a fight. She dragged her feet a bit but nonetheless allowed herself to be drawn inextricably forward until Paul was able to sit on the waiting chair and in the same movement, pull her down with him until she was lying across his lap.
No sooner than this happened, then a heavy swat landed upon her upturned bottom to show her that he meant business and that this was not going to be one of her controlled gentle sessions.
Grace almost screeched with shock at the force that Paul had used and the sting that had been delivered along with it. Before she had chance to voice her discontent another 5 heavy spanks were placed in varying areas of her shell-shocked rear. Their erotic spankings had been nothing like this and she was unprepared for how different they felt. This was not nice!
“OK Grace, now that I’ve got your attention, let me just warn you that if you ever, ever go behind my back again after we’ve made a joint decision on something, then this is what you can hope to expect. I will not put up with your manipulations any more!”
With that he flipped the back of her dress up over her waist leaving her quivering backside clad in nothing more than a pair of lacy lemon panties.
“Another new buy?” he asked in mocking humour as he pinged the elastic of the high cut leg causing Grace to squirm guiltily. He ran his hand over the full cheeks. “Lovely shade!” he added in a tone that didn’t clarify if he was referring to her underwear or what was already a pinkish bottom. “Luckily they don’t cover much so I might not have to take them down to finish off your spanking.” With this he set about smacking the lower curves of her bottom until she was squirming and struggling in earnest. Each spank was interspersed with an ‘Ow’ or a hiss of breath and her legs began to scissor and kick in protest.
Paul continued to spank her reddening bottom until she shot her hand back in an attempt to ward off the blows as she begged “Please… Paul… no more… no more… it hurts! Pleeease…” with a catch in her voice.
“I’m sure it does hurt Grace, that’s the whole point of it! Don’t you think that you hurt me, hurt us, when you deliberately and unashamedly try to finagle having your own way in everything?” he asked as he kept her hand from rubbing at her bottom. In order to stop her attempts at covering herself, he shifted his right leg higher and lowered his left slightly whilst tilting her forwards even more so that she had to hurriedly put her hands out to stop herself from falling. One hand grabbed a chair leg while the other gripped his trousers and hung on tightly.
While Grace was trying to come to terms with her new precarious position, Paul reached across and took hold of the leather slipper that was waiting ominously on the table and without a moment’s pause he snapped it sharply across her now jack-knifed bottom. If the howl of surprise and pain was anything to go by, Paul considered that he had found the perfect position for his errant wife. If that hadn’t convinced him then the way her body went almost rigid in shock followed by the flurry of leg kicking was proof enough.
He continued to bring the slipper down effectively on every bit of her burning backside until the yelps were indistinguishable one from the other and was eventually replaced with none too silent tears as Grace caved in. Paul knew his wife, he knew that she was crying with remorse but he hoped that it was remorse not only for how her backside was now feeling but also for the attitude that she had shown up till now in their marriage. Her spanking hadn’t been tremendously harsh… just harsh enough to make an imprint on her mind, not only on her bottom. He imagined that the indignity of the event was every bit as bad for her as the actual spanking had been.
Paul laid the slipper back on the table and gently rubbed his hand over the red skin before him before rearranging his legs in a position that allowed Grace enough leeway to push herself off his lap. He fully expected that she run from the room in anger or embarrassment but instead she sank to her knees at his side and cradled her tormented rear in both hands.
As much as he wanted to take her in his arms to comfort her distress, he hardened his heart. He fully meant to carry on with his new rules and he didn’t want to send conflicting messages to her at this early stage. Later on, when she had calmed down a bit, he would cuddle her and take her tenderly to bed even though he would underline vocally that this was how things were going to be from now on and that she knew what she had to do if she wanted to avoid further punishments.
Paul let his hand rest on her hair, slowly running his fingers through it as a small comfort gesture as she slowly brought her sobbing under control.
“Come on Grace… up you get” he encouraged her gently but firmly. “All finished… maybe finished completely.”
Her head shot up in horror at the realisation of what he was saying… that was the spanking for the table, she might still have to ‘pay’ for the chairs! She looked at his face and judged that he really did mean it… he was serious about considering spanking her again. She froze with the understanding that her life had taken on a completely different angle in the last half hour and although she deeply regretted the fact that her bottom felt twice its normal size and must surely be as red as the mahogany of their new table, some small part of her, deep, deep down, recognised that she admired Paul’s determination and consistency.
As she struggled to stand and smooth her now crumpled dress, Paul asked “Are you ready to eat?” to which she shook her head in negation with a small pout finding it’s way to her bottom lip. Paul quickly reached round and smacked her smartly. “No sulking Grace… you got what you asked for after all, so you only have yourself to blame. So, OK, you might not have much of an appetite right now, but the Man of the House does, so off you scamper and bring him his meal.” Paul tempered his rebuke in a teasing tone and luckily Grace responded by giving a small tremulous smile and a quiet ‘Yes Paul’.
She left the room still in a state of semi-shock and rubbing her throbbing behind while Paul watched her go with a smile on his face thinking to himself ‘Well, that went quite well I think. I should have done this years ago’.
As Grace made her way to the kitchen she stopped mid-stride in dismay. Paul had mentioned a spanking for each chair. Oh God, he didn’t know yet that it was a set of 8 and the other 2 were tucked away in the study…