ScallyW.
Table Manners.
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…
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