He walked into the bar expecting to find her drinking alone. He thought he would sit down with her and talk through everything, over a beer. He didn’t intend to back down on the issue of family discipline, because he had the same gut feeling Doug had also picked up—that Cathy needed help with boundaries, even if she couldn’t admit it to herself. Nor did he want to give up the idea that using a firm hand in their sex life would bring their marriage back to life.
As a Marine from New Jersey, though, brought up as a gentleman, he had to admit that what Doug and Mindy had shown them last night, as enticing as it might seem, could well not represent Cathy’s cup of tea. True, as Doug had also confirmed, it had looked like Cathy’s cup of tea last night, though perhaps in a rather ambiguous way. But, while sex held more importance for him than he had really liked to give it credit for early in their marriage, to bring Cathy home and show her how much he loved her was his only goal. They would have a drink together, and drive home, and he would wait to spank her until the time was right.
The time, unfortunately, was right at the precise moment he caught sight of her standing at the bar between two guys, with the hand of one of them on the ass of her red work skirt. Cathy had dressed the full hot-to-trot secretary, cherry-red lipstick to match lipstick-red skirt and all. She had tilted her head back, and was laughing in a horribly fake way at something the businessman with his hand on her ass had said.
Things happened very quickly at that point, because as she laughed, Cathy’s eyes scanned the room as if to see whether any more businessmen might want a piece of her ass. She saw John, in his jeans and USMC t-shirt. She stopped laughing, and her eyes went very wide.
John had advanced far enough at that point to hear the second businessman say, “What’s wrong, baby?”
Cathy got only the word “My—” out her mouth before he had her upper arm in his hand.
“Hey,” said the handsy one. “Who—”
“I’m her husband,” John said. He knew he should count. He knew he would be able to get rid of the anger and be ready for action, if he counted. He didn’t count.
“John!” Cathy said. “You’re hurting my arm!”
“If you think your arm hurts, Cathy, just wait until I get you over my knee.” The red pulsing of his anger felt hot in his veins.
“Jesus,” said Handsy to John. “I didn’t…” John saw fear in his eyes. To Handsy’s credit, he found a little courage. He turned to Cathy. “Baby, do you need help?”
John looked into his wife’s eyes, and he found there a temperance for his wrath that he hadn’t imagined: he saw understanding and love, despite his solid grip on her arm and despite the fear she clearly felt at the knowledge that she would absolutely, positively get a very hard spanking of her own very soon. She looked at Handsy. “No, thanks,” she said quietly.
John looked at the two men, who were staring back at him in alarm. The raw edge of his fury softened as he realized how much respect they had instantly accorded him. He turned back to Cathy. “Apologize to these gentlemen for wasting their time, Cathy,” he said quietly but forcefully.
Guy number two said, “Hey, that’s alright.”
But Cathy said, with her eyes fixed on John’s hand where it gripped her above the elbow, “I’m sorry.”
Handsy said in an alarmed voice, “You’re not really going to spank her, are you?”
“Yes, he is,” Cathy said. Then, after a little pause, “It’s okay.”
John marched her, still holding her elbow, to the door of the bar.
“I have a room,” Cathy said quietly. “Number 327. Can I go to the bathroom down here?”
John nodded, not trusting himself to speak but releasing her elbow. When she had left him, he grimly got his phone out of his pocket and texted Doug.
Found her. At a hotel bar with a couple businessmen. Her ass is gonna pay a serious penalty.
He put the phone away and waited for his wife, seething. When she returned from the bathroom she gave him one nervous look, then—obviously not liking what she saw—she walked to the elevator. He took her elbow again as they walked, wanting her to feel caught and controlled, his anger at least slightly mitigated by being able to enforce his will in that small way.
On the way down the hall to Room 327, his phone buzzed. Without releasing Cathy’s arm, he fished it out. Doug had texted.
Chastity belt? Worth thinking about.
John texted back, one-handed.
Spending night here to discipline her. C-belt tmw.
He let go of her arm, finally, when they reached the room, so that she could get the key and open the door. When it had closed behind them, she looked up at him and said, “I don’t suppose it matters that the walls are thin?”
His anger had simmered down. He still had more of it than he would have retained if he had counted, but he knew that when he started to discipline his wife he would do it out of love.
“Not at all. Take off all your clothes.”
Cathy shivered, and—somewhat to her surprise—started to cry. “Can’t I… I mean, can’t you just… just do it over my….” She swallowed hard. She wanted to say skirt: the red skirt she had put on in this hotel room right after she’d checked in, thinking about how hot she looked, how she had caught a glimpse of those guys drinking in the bar and how they would buy her martinis. How she would let them have sex with her—both of them at the same time, if they wanted.
Because now that she had left John, she might as well admit that she didn’t mind using sex to get what she wanted, as long as the guys knew what they wanted, and they treated her like a lady.
And they didn’t presume to discipline her.
She had driven around all that morning and afternoon, gradually working her way toward this hotel she remembered seeing from the car window once, when she went with one of the firm’s lawyers to take a deposition. Saguaro Junction, she had thought, when she first saw it, feeling the heat come into her face at the untoward notion, looks like the kind of place a girl could get picked up by a traveling businessman.
Really that idea simply lay on the flipside of letting John touch her down there before he shipped out, wasn’t it? Giving him his sex reward, then and afterward, letting him have sex with her once a week, knowing it wasn’t enough but knowing how very well her huge, gentlemanly Marine husband could keep himself in check. Loving to control him that way and never admitting it to herself.
Except that to use sex that way, without admitting you had done it, meant that you never actually figured out what it was you really wanted. You just did it, for the sake of having some control over a life that didn’t feel the way you thought it would. You said you would talk about having kids when you got ahead, and you didn’t admit that you had no idea what you meant by getting ahead.
Then, when your new neighbors showed you how it could be between a dominant man and his young wife, you ran away. The first thing Cathy had admitted to herself, on waking that morning, was that she had seen in John’s eyes, from the moment he had come into their kitchen and heard Mindy yelping as Doug had spanked her, that he had decided—first unconsciously and then consciously—to spank her, too.
When she had understood that—how inevitable was the chain of events that led to the wetness in her panties as she watched Mindy work the shameful thing in her vagina; how it would lead to her showing John her pussy, to her playing with herself like Mindy did, to her being spanked for all the disrespect she had demonstrated as she made the stupid effort to control him—she had gotten up and packed her bag. She needed to move on, to a place where she could be herself. So she used sex to get what she wanted; she just needed to learn to do it better than she had with John. If that meant picking up two guys at the Saguaro Junction hotel bar and going back to a room where they had sex with her, she would use the experience to prove she could get what she set out to get.
Cathy hadn’t stopped to wonder who exactly she meant to prove that to, so when she saw John come into the bar, it had hit her like a ton of bricks: she had left, she had driven around, she had ended up at Saguaro Junction with a businessman’s hand on her bottom, as a performance for him. She had started to shake, and she shook now as he calmly regarded her in the hotel room, at the thought that he might not have found her—that he might have taken the performance as something real. Because she would have gone up to the room of one of those guys. It would have been awful, but Cathy would have gone through with it, even if it had been both of them. She would have been unfaithful to her husband just to prove that she had control.
And what had she actually demonstrated? She looked into his dark eyes, and saw the answer. She had proven that in fact she needed the family discipline he had decided to give her.
“Over my panties?” she whispered now, not wanting to mention the red skirt that had had the businessman’s hand on it, just in the place where a naughty wife must feel her husband’s correcting hand.
“Cathy,” John said patiently, but with the edge of authority that she hadn’t heard directed at her until yesterday at the Landises, “we need to start your discipline the right way. I can’t let you have any foolish notions about how it’s going to work. Things between us are going to change. That begins now, with you naked for your punishment.”
“Oh, please,” she sobbed. “Please… please…” Could she say it? How could she say it? How could she not? “Sir,” she whispered. “Please, sir. Please, sir.” She felt her wits departing as she went over that precipice and acknowledged in the way she addressed her husband that he had the right and the duty to give her the discipline she had earned.
He moved toward her, and she cowered back, but then she found his strong arms around her, holding her close, and all the tension and resistance seemed to go out of her body as her face came up against the cotton of his t-shirt and her tears began to dampen it. “Sir,” she murmured again. “Sir. Sir.”
“Sweetheart, I love you so much,” John said.
“I don’t want to be naked,” Cathy wailed softly. “Please don’t make me be naked, sir.”
John stroked her hair for a few moments, and then he said, in a much more gentle tone than the words seemed to deserve, “Would you have taken off your clothes for the guy in the bar, sweetheart? The one who you let put his hand on your ass?”
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
“Answer me, Cath.” His voice rumbled in his chest, seeming to make Cathy’s whole body vibrate.
“Yes, sir,” she said, trying somehow to speak so softly that he wouldn’t hear her.
“Would you have touched their cocks?”
She sobbed. “Yes, sir.”
“Why can they see your pretty pussy, but I’m not allowed to? Why can they have you touch them that way, but you won’t touch your husband’s cock?”
Cathy wanted to say, “But they didn’t.” She knew, though, in her heart, that they would have. If John hadn’t come to get her, they would have. So she told the truth, even though she didn’t understand what it meant. “Because I love you, sir.”
John fell silent again, still holding her so fiercely that Cathy started to feel like her husband was the only thing keeping her from flying apart at the seams. When he spoke again, though, the stern edge had come back with much greater force than it had ever yet possessed.
“Listen carefully, Cathy. Your spanking today, here in this hotel room on which you wasted our money, won’t be the end of your punishment for what you did, and the way you demonstrate your sexual submission to me when that spanking is over won’t be the end of your training as a respectful, obedient wife.”
Now, despite the strength of his embrace, Cathy felt herself start to shake again. Her breathing grew quick and shallow. “What do you mean, J—sir?” she whispered.
“I’m going to put you in a chastity belt, Cathy. It will come off only for sex and punishment, and when you have permission from me to use the toilet or to masturbate.”
Cathy felt her face go hot. She had heard of chastity belts, of course, because military wives joked about them sometimes. She had thought they were only that, though—a joke. Hadn’t she also heard that it wasn’t even true that the medieval knights had put their wives in them? How had John even thought of that? Marines must make those same jokes, she supposed, but for her gentlemanly husband just to announce it…
What did a thing like that even look like? What was it made of? What would it feel like, down there? Strangely, the thing that held the uppermost place in her mind wasn’t the belt itself, but the idea of John putting her in it, of the way those words implied that she would indeed have to show him her pussy as Mindy had done last night.
The wild thoughts racing through her mind kept her from saying anything but, “What? John… sir… no, please.”
“Shh, sweetheart,” he said. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow, once we’re home and this first part of your punishment and submission is over. I don’t want you think that it’s all settled with one spanking, though. Being naked when I discipline you is a very important part of that. Do you remember what Mindy said about why she has to be naked for her spankings?”
The heat in Cathy’s face refused to fade a single degree. “So Doug can have sex with her afterward,” she whispered.
“That’s right. It’s going to be the same for you. I’m going to fuck you after I punish you. While you’re being spanked, I want you to think about what it means to be naked with your husband.”
What it means to be naked with your husband. It meant that Cathy didn’t have control. It meant that John could look at her just as he pleased—could even watch his penis moving inside her, if he wanted. It meant that he wouldn’t let her turn the light out, before sex. It meant that if he wanted, he could put her in a chastity belt, and he could unlock the chastity belt whenever he liked, to spank her and put his penis in her until he climaxed inside her.
“Please, sir. Don’t say that word.” She didn’t know where that came from, exactly, but it suddenly felt like she had to gain something from him, some little concession.
But John said, his voice now not just stern but a little angry, “Fuck? I’ll say fuck all I want, Cathy. You swear enough at me that I can’t say I feel bad about telling you the truth when it comes to the way I’ll take my pleasure in the bedroom from now on. We’ll make love sometimes, when I decide you’ve been a good girl and deserve it, but I’m going to fuck you every day from now on. Tonight, here in this hotel room, you’ll be fucked several times. Take off your clothes. Now.”
Cathy suddenly found she had one more performance in her: one more little show she needed to put on. In the anger that had made him say the terrible things that made her knees shake, John had relaxed his grasp around her back a little bit, and now she managed to surprise him and squirm out from his arms, then cover two of the five steps toward the door before he grabbed her, threw her on the bed, and started to tear her clothes off.
She didn’t scream. When she realized she wasn’t screaming, she understood exactly how much of a performance it had all been. Cathy didn’t scream because she didn’t want anyone to come and rescue her. John’s big hands had already torn her silk blouse down the front, buttons popping, to reveal the only slightly sexy bra she had, which had a flower pattern, and matched the panties he now exposed by unzipping her skirt.
This sight, of the underwear that matched as Mindy’s green lace had matched the night before, seemed to foster in John a determination so grim that as he reached down literally—Cathy felt sure—to tear the bra apart, she said, “Alright, sir. I’ll… I’ll take them off.”
He stopped instantly, breathing hard and looking down at her with eyes that seemed startled by the violent way he had manhandled her. She wondered suddenly if his penis had gotten hard; she looked down at the crotch of his jeans and thought she could see a bulge there. She felt lightheaded; she really would have to touch him down there, wouldn’t she? And… he would make her kiss it, she could just tell.
She had the sudden thought that maybe she could seduce her husband to get out of the spanking, and felt her own eyes go wide. In wonder at her own brazenness, she sat up on the bed and shrugged the ripped blouse off her shoulders, then reached behind her back to unhook her bra. She looked up at John again as she let that fall, too, topless with her husband now, she realized, for the very first time.
She saw the lust in his eyes that she had never let herself see before. Feeling like a different person, she took her little breasts in her hand and said softly, “Would you like to… to fuck me now, sir?”
“Take off your skirt and your panties,” John said. He had calmed down, and his voice seemed unreadable. Was she going to be able to do it? To seduce her own husband the way she had intended to do with the guys at the bar?
He stepped back so that she could stand up. She felt her face go as red as the skirt again as it fell down, leaving her in only the floral panties. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband, looking at John’s black shoes.
Suddenly Cathy realized how stupid and doomed this attempt at seduction must be, and she hesitated. In that moment of hesitation she found she couldn’t lower her underwear. It was naughty. What Mindy had done was naughty. Even your husband should never see you down there.
“Get those panties off, Cathy,” John said. “I’m not going to tell you again.” She looked up, and now she saw the determination she hadn’t let herself see before. He would have his way, from this point on, and his way meant family discipline had begun. She felt her face crumple in shame and fear, but she tugged the panties down.
John’s eyes, too, moved downward, and she watched him see her pussy for the first time, with its fair curls so unlike Mindy’s smoothness.
“You’re going to shave down there before I put you in the belt,” John said, his eyes flicking up to Cathy’s. She bit her lip, her cheeks flaring hot.
Then he reached for her, and in one strong, fluid movement, he sat on the bed and pulled her naked between his knees, then over his left thigh, her toes just barely on the floor and her face in the thankfully quite clean duvet. Cathy felt his right leg imprison her knees, and she trembled to feel how helpless to stop her spanking he had rendered her.
She expected him to say something more, give some lecture, but he clearly thought they had talked enough: the next thing she felt was his huge hand come down with a sharp sound on the middle of her bottom. She cried out, and then she started immediately to weep, struggling and squirming over his knee, as the spanking continued.
Her bottom hurt. It hurt so much. She cried, tried to kick, and threw her arm back, but John kept spanking her, kept teaching her her lesson. “Hold still, Cathy,” he said grimly, seizing her right arm and imprisoning it behind her back while the punishment continued.
“Sir,” she wailed. “Please! It hurts so much!” The duvet under her face grew wet with her tears, but still her husband’s hand fell on her burning bottom-cheeks.
She became terribly conscious of her nakedness, then, because the fruitless little struggles she managed to make caused her to feel the fabric of John’s clothing against her bare skin. When, just as she thought she couldn’t bear another spank, he suddenly stopped, and lifted her off his lap, that sense of nakedness meant that the heat in her face seemed to increase exponentially, because she knew just what he meant to do.
He had punished her, and now she had no choice, did she? Cathy had to let him move her into the position in which he wanted to have sex. He bent her over the bed. He arranged her with her bottom still offered to him but now for more than spanking. Doggy-style. That was what her sorority sisters had called it, she thought, when the man took you from behind, bent over.
She hung her head at the shame of it as she heard his jeans and underwear drop around his calves, and then he was tugging her knees apart and she felt the head of his manhood at the place that now felt, to Cathy’s embarrassment, wetter and warmer than it ever had. John caressed the cheeks he had punished, now, and the warmth seemed to grow and grow.
“Are you ready for fucking, my good girl?” he asked softly.
So much of Cathy didn’t want to answer at all, but so much wanted to respond as she knew she must, or else be punished more. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.
He took her hips in his hands and he drove inside her, pounding into her burning cheeks like a jackhammer from the very start.
“Oh, God,” Cathy cried, because it was so different from what she had thought sex was, and because she could feel, from the moment John began to fuck her, that she would come—that she couldn’t help it, and he would know that she had never actually come before, because already she was screaming the same way Mindy had screamed.
This content is linked through SNP’s Newsletter! Don’t miss out on all the free content! It doesn’t stick around long! Add your email below!