The Essay
by ElyseAnne
copyright © 2002

Charlie gave me "the look." My heart skipped a beat and I backed down.

"Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that," I mumbled.

Charlie nodded, but he still had that look in his eyes.

Of course, I had gotten that look before and sometimes it had even been accompanied by a couple of smart smacks to my rear. It was all I ever needed to remind me that Charlie was my husband, the man that I love and as such he deserved to be treated with respect and kindness. All I ever needed, that is, until Sunday night.

The weekend had been rough and I had been cranky with Charlie and the kids. By Sunday night I was pretty much over life. So, thirty minutes after the look, I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself when I shouted at Katherine over next to nothing.

"Ruth!" I looked at Charlie and felt a shudder in my stomach that I had never known before.

"Ruth," he repeated firmly. "You are tired. Go to our room and rest. I’ll finish the game with the kids and put them to bed. Then I’ll come to see you."

I was sick to my stomach; could a forty-three year old woman run away? I put on a small smile as I hugged the kids and said I was sorry that I had been so cranky. I told them to enjoy their game with Daddy and that Mommy was going to get some rest. Tomorrow would be better, I promised.

I stopped in front of Charlie and lowered my eyes.

"I’m sorry," I whispered. "And thank you." With the knots in my stomach, I wasn’t sure if I meant it, but I knew it had to be said. Quietly leaving the room, I closed our bedroom door as I went in to wait.

I sat in our room and wondered how I had gotten to this place; here I was a grown woman with two young children and I was about to get the first real spanking of my life. Sure, I was spanked as a child, but that usually amounted to several swats or smacks of the belt, often done in anger. The last time was when I was twelve and my sister and I had been engaged in non-stop bickering. Dad had finally had enough and ordered us to the living room, to turn around and take, fully clothed, seven or eight smacks from his belt. I hadn’t even cried. Now here I was, waiting for my husband to give me a long, hard, bare-bottom spanking. I knew I deserved it, but still.

It had been almost three months since Charlie and I had decided to apply domestic discipline to our marriage. We had been married ten years. Even though I loved Charlie, and he was overall a great guy, you couldn’t say I was truly happy. We argued all the time, or that is, I argued and Charlie listened. Yes, he had his faults and sometimes truly hurt my feelings but I wouldn’t let things go. I ranted, raved, screamed and had been known to throw things, worse yet I sometimes did this in front of our children. But he would not fight back. Sometimes I could tell I had pushed him too far, but still Charlie would not take charge. I hated him for that. Why wouldn’t he just take charge, be the man, and lead the family?

As much as I wanted Charlie to take charge, I was also afraid of getting my wish. After all, I didn’t want someone to boss me around, telling me what to do, and making my decisions. Wasn’t there some way to have a partnership, work together, and respect each other? Wasn’t there some way for each partner to feel like they were getting what they wanted and needed? Was there a way to have all of that, and there still be one person with final authority? I sure didn’t have that kind of relationship and I didn’t know how to get it, so I just kept on being a witch. And I was good at it.

I knew I that I was destroying my marriage, hurting Charlie terribly, and giving my kids a lousy example, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I made myself sick and angry. I had never been so ashamed as the day I heard my daughter use a phrase and tone to her Daddy that she had heard from me. Still, I didn’t know how to stop. I cried and I prayed, and I prayed again. Things would improve for a while, and then I would slip back into my old patterns.

I had been taught that the lack of accountability leads to sin, but whom could I be accountable to? There was no one at church I could talk to about this. My friends and family all thought I had a great marriage. Charlie knew better, but how could I be accountable to him, he wouldn’t take charge. And, I was more than reluctant to give him "charge." I had a real problem with authority; I fought it hard. It scared me half to death to even consider telling Charlie that he was in charge of our marriage. I knew issues from my past had a lot to do with my inability to let go of control; but damn it, I had to get past this. I was a controlling witch and it was ruining my life. I knew the state of my marriage was very displeasing to God. But the idea of acknowledging Charlie as the head of our home and losing the control I had over both of us was terrifying. Add to that, I had no idea of how I could become accountable to my husband.

The thought of Charlie doling out punishments, or spankings had never occurred to me, except in the context of un-played-out sexual fantasies. Then, one night while he was away, I found a website; it talked at great length about something called domestic discipline. I sat there, amazed, and read until the wee hours of the morning. My heart knew this was what I needed but I was scared. I was scared of giving up control and scared of the possibility of pain. I gasped at a picture of a hairbrushed bottom, realizing I would be telling Charlie it was okay to do this to me.

Somehow, I did bring up the subject to my husband. It was hard to do, and at first I thought I had made a huge mistake. He sat quietly and listened. Oh! What was he thinking? At last, he told me he loved me, and needed to think about the things I had said. Over the next few days Charlie spent a lot of time on the web. He finally told me he agreed that we should apply domestic discipline to our marriage. We worked very hard on a mutual understanding and agreement of what this change would mean. Our biggest area of focus was on my anger and attitude. We discussed that it was okay for me to become angry and disappointed with him and the kids, but my old ways of handling this would no longer be accepted. The entire process was very cleansing. I verbally acknowledged and accepted his authority as my husband, and head of our home. In some ways, it was like having a second wedding ceremony.

Things changed in our home. Charlie was a new man. I loved the gentle way he had of guiding all of us. I was changing too; somehow I was finding freedom instead of the loss of control I had always feared. Yes, there were spankings. But only the stinging, titillating ones we now acted out in our sex life. And, what sex! Even though spanking was just occasional spice, we were developing quite a few new innovations in our love life.

I was proud of these new developments. I had even begun to think I would be one of those wives I had read about, who never really needed a punishment spanking. I was getting much better at controlling myself. When I did come close to crossing the line, all it took was that look, or a swat from his strong hand, to remind me I didn’t want to go any further. That was until Sunday night.

So now, I sat and waited, and waited. I knew Charlie would be finishing the game with the kids, that he would read them a story, and probably sit with them while they fell asleep. I knew all these things, but I decided he was dragging it out on purpose to make me suffer.

As time had passed, the knot in my stomach had lessened. After all, how bad could it be? We had agreed that punishment spankings would be carried out either by hand, with a paddle or with a hairbrush. So how bad could it be? We had agreed that in the case of very serious offenses he would use a heavier paddle, a belt or a strap. After all, this wasn’t that serious and it was my first spanking, he probably planned to go easy. So how bad could it really be?

The clock ticked on and I got mad. Why didn’t he just get in here and get it over with?

Finally, I heard Charlie.

"I turned on the TV between us and the kids," he said as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

Oh! He really was going to go through with this.

Charlie came towards me and I stood up. He paced back and forth, lecturing with each step. I felt very small and sorry standing there in only a T-shirt and my panties. I had removed my jeans when I first came into the room, thinking he would see how sorry I was if I was ready and waiting for him.

He continued to lecture ............. "disappointed"........."do better".............."what kind of example"............."we agreed"............."acting like a grown up." He went on and on. Maybe he was stalling; I don’t know, but Charlie sure knew how to lecture. I had seen him in action with the kids and I was not enjoying being on the receiving end of one of his lectures. Finally, he finished. Charlie walked over to the bed and sat down.

I stood, sniffling.

"Charlie, I’m so sorry," I cried. "No one deserves to be spoken to the way I have spoken to you and the kids this weekend. I know I must treat you with respect." I paused, and Charlie waited. Finally, I managed to whisper, "Would you please spank me?"

Charlie nodded and motioned for me to bare my bottom. He took me and gently guided me across the bed and his lap. I was relieved not to see a paddle or hairbrush. Once he had adjusted my position he raised his hand. And then, he began to lecture again! It was more than I could take.

"Damn it!" I snapped. "Can’t you just do it?"

There was silence. It was as if time had frozen. How could I have been so stupid? There I was lying across my husband’s lap about to be soundly spanked, and I mouthed off like a disrespectful teenager. The room remained silent. After what seemed a very long time, Charlie moved me off his lap and onto the floor. He walked around and stood very still in front of me, his hands on his hips. He looked eight feet tall. Then he began to unbuckle his belt.

"Noooooo!" I cried, as the long piece of black leather slipped through the loops. "PLEASE, Noooo."

"That will be five extra for language," he answered, as he deftly grabbed my wrists behind me. Quickly I was laying over the edge of the bed, my hands in the small of my back and Charlie’s strong arm making sure that I would be staying right there. SMACK… the first blow came hard across my bottom. I answered with a shocked cry, and was immediately sure that I had made a mistake. How had I ever though this would be good for my marriage or me?

The blows continued at a steady even pace. I wiggled and squirmed but they kept coming. I begged and pleaded, but they kept coming. I kicked and thrashed. I screamed, cried and cussed.

"Language!" he said.

Dear God, that made ten extra. And still the blows kept coming. All I knew was I couldn’t take any more, not one more blow.

Please stop, PLEASE! My mind screamed as loud as the fire in my rear raged. Didn’t he understand! Didn’t he care! Damn him, why wouldn’t he stop? My mind continued to race. What if he never stopped? The kids would be asleep for hours. Help me, someone!

"Please." I sobbed. And then it stopped.

I’m not sure if I knew exactly when the spanking stopped, but I realized Charlie was gently lifting me up. He sat down on the bed and I leaned into him. I was sure I didn’t have the strength to stand alone. But instead of putting his comforting arms around me, Charlie pulled me over his lap.

"Wha..." I cried, unable to finish the word.

"Language," he stated. "Remember." His strong, large hand came down ten times. And then at last, it was over. I lay there, sobbing.

Charlie had slipped me off his lap, and left me to cry on the bed. It was only a moment before I heard him return. He had brought a straight-backed wooden chair from the breakfast room. My eyes must have grown huge as my mind raced. He couldn’t be planning to spank me again.

Charlie motioned for me, and obediently, although slowly, I got off the bed and shuffled to him. As Charlie turned the chair, I suddenly realized what he had in mind. Oh God, he was far more resourceful than I had ever given him credit. Since I am physically unable to stand for long periods, I had assumed that corner time would be one unfortunate aspect of punishment that I would have to forego. Charlie turned the chair to the wall and motioned for me to sit. I let out a cry as my bottom met the wood. Oh, how it burned.

Now, with my rear-end echoing every word, Charlie began to lecture again. This time though he included questions about my behavior and my plans for the future. I tried to keep my concentration on his words as every hiccup, from my now cried out body, caused my backside to bounce against the chair. Soon, he finished. I stole a quick look at his face as he started to leave the room, his eyes were red and I heard a sniffle as the door closed.

"How could I have done this to him?" I demanded of myself. Suddenly I found I still had tears to cry.

Charlie came back fifteen minutes later. He led me back to the bed, sat down, and held me. At first, all I could do was cry, while Charlie rocked me, and softly told me over and over how much he loved me. He told me how this had been the worst night of his life. Then Charlie took my chin in his hand and raised my face to his. "But, I’ll do it again if I have to. Do you understand?" I quickly nodded yes, and he let my head rest back on his chest. I’m not sure when, but finally I fell asleep.

—————————————————

"Wake up sweetheart." I turned my head and looked into those wonderful eyes. For a moment it was like nothing had happened. Then I moved.

"Owww," I whimpered.

Charlie gave me a little smile and a kiss on top of the head. "The kids are still asleep. We can have breakfast alone."

I gingerly made my way to the kitchen. Charlie had made a small breakfast with a large pot of coffee. Bless that man. We ate quietly, with just a little small talk. Finally, I couldn’t take any more.

"I’m so sorry," I blurted out. "About last night I mean. I’m sorry I made all that happen. Charlie, I won’t ever speak to you or the kids like that again. Never! I promise." The words were tumbling out so fast that I doubt he understood everything I said. "It was awful," I continued. "The spanking I mean. I don’t ever want to go through that again." I took a deep breath; my eyes lowered. "Charlie, you were right to spank me. Thank you for loving me enough to do it."

My husband walked over and put his arms around me. "Sweetheart," he finally said. "I’ve got to go to work. I’m glad you are sorry, and I too pray that we won’t repeat last night. But, I need to know you understand everything that happened, how you got to that place; I need to know you are truly sorry and that you are really thankful." Charlie paused, studying me. "So, I want you to write a three thousand word essay explaining it all to me. You have four days."

"On Friday," he continued. "Take the kids to spend the night with your mother, she’s expecting them. I told her we needed some time to talk a few things over. I’ll expect the essay to be ready when I come in from work. It will be graded. If the lesson wasn’t learned, it can be repeated."

I stood in shock as my husband kissed me and headed for the door.

"Oh, and by the way, Ruth," he turned just as he placed his hand on the knob, "Spelling and punctuation count!"

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