Locktober – 2

Never Spanked

Jonathan Quincy Graves

{ Note: This is Part 2. If you have not read Part 1, this part will make more sense if you do. Part 1 }

I’ve never spanked John before. Spanking, either for fun or for discipline, was never part of our relationship. But when I caught him pawing through my jewelry case looking for the key to his chastity cage, I saw red. And I intended to see a lot more red as I applied my hairbrush to his backside.  WHAP!!

Locktober was his idea. We never would have tried male chastity if he had not brought up the subject and asked me to participate.  WHAP!!

And for him to go behind my back, looking for the key in my jewelry case (That’s not where I put it.) so he could masturbate in secret…  WHAP!!  WHAP!!  WHAP!!

I’ve never spanked John before, but I was really getting into this spanking. I would have to go online and pick up a few pointers on how to spank a husband. John is bigger and stronger than I. I got him across my lap primarily because he was shocked when I said I would spank him. But as the fire ignited and blazed in his ass, I struggled to keep him in place. He kicked; he squirmed, and he reached back to cover his ass with his hand. (A couple good shots of the brush to his knuckles cured him of that.) All of his jumping and jiving did not avail him, however. My brush kept on rising and falling, with authority, on one part or another of his backside.

I’ve never spanked John before, and I struggled to keep him across my knees. I had to pause and use both hands to pull his body back into place. The pause was brief, and I returned to work with the brush in short order.  WHAP!!  WHAP!!  WHAP!!

Tension had grown in our relationship. As the month of October progressed, John became steadily more on edge, his frustrations building. The poor man had never gone more than a few days without sexual release. Now, he was constantly reminded of sex by the presence of a cage between his legs, but completely unable to do anything about it. John’s tension transferred to me, reinforced by frequent hints and suggestions I should let him out of chastity. It became a near constant complaint, reaching almost to the point of whining.

So, while I have never spanked John before, the spanking I gave him now was providing me (and possibly John?) a real catharsis. With each  WHAP!!  of the brush on his naked bottom, I could feel the tension flowing away. With each  WHAP!!  spanking John felt more natural—more the right thing to do. And with each  WHAP!!  I felt more in control of our situation, in control of John.

A strange concept, that last one. I never wanted to control John. Oh, there were times and there were circumstances under which I wished John would exercise more self-control, but I didn’t want the control. Too much responsibility. Too much work. But now… I started to think in terms of ROI, Return on Investment. Controlling John, at least in small ways, would add to my level of responsibility and certainly add to my daily workload, but in return, there might be tangible rewards. Over time, minor irritations—like leaving his dirty clothes on the floor or draped over a chair in our bedroom instead of putting them in the hamper—might be eliminated. Moments of thoughtless behavior—like not phoning me when he is running late—might be made less frequent. Voluntary participation in the endless tasks needed to maintain a clean and healthy home—like taking out the trash before it overflows or before I have to ask—might become a thing of the past.

I’ve never spanked John, and I wondered why. Perhaps not providing John with the discipline he sorely needs was a mistake. While it’s true, I’ve never spanked John, the idea appealed to me with each stroke of my hairbrush. Before I was finished, and his ass reached the exact color of red I’d envisioned, I made my decision. This was John’s first bare-bottomed spanking with a hairbrush over my knees, but it would not be his last. In a sense, he brought it on himself. I owed this resolution, my catharsis and revelation entirely to John’s naïve proposal we give Locktober a try this year.

Tired of struggling with him and satisfied with the job I’d done, I pushed John off my lap onto the floor. It did not require much pushing; he’d squirmed to the edge of my lap already.

“Stand up!” I barked. If I was going to take control of our relationship, I had to seize it now. “Kick off your pants and march yourself over to that corner.” I pointed imperiously. If John considered wearing briefs instead of boxers juvenile, what would he think of bare-bottomed spankings followed by corner time? I did not care. Scratch that, I did care. I wanted to make it entirely clear which of us was the adult in this situation.

John looked at me standing with hairbrush in hand and did as he was told without comment or complaint. He probably considered sharing many comments, but as long as they did not escape his lips, they would not get him into further trouble.

“That’s enough rubbing,” I said once he was in position. “Hands at your sides. You will stand like that until I release you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said in an acceptable manner.

I suddenly remembered the potatoes and onions I’d left on the stove. “Shit,” I swore and hurried to the kitchen. They had not yet set off the smoke detector, but they were way past the point of being browned. I turned off the burner, moved the pan to the side, and put a lid on it. I was no longer in the mood to fix our traditional breakfast, so settled for toast and a cup of coffee.

My heart rate, elevated by the exertion and stimulus of spanking John, wound down as I sat at the kitchen table. Thinking of how he looked when he placed himself in the corner of the bedroom, his ass glowing apple red, brought a smile to my face.

Over my second cup of coffee, it came to me that what I needed right now was a good fuck. Last month, if this thought had occurred at this time of day, I would have laughed it off, and got on with whatever I was doing. But now? There was no question of uncaging my husband after I spanked him for nagging me to do so, but as John told me at the outset, “There are more ways than one for a man to provide sexual pleasure to a woman.” Those ways are second best when I’m in my present mood, but I’d settle. This time.

I finished my coffee, put the cup on the counter near the coffee pot, and strode down the hall to our bedroom. John stood where I’d put him, and did not look around as I entered the room. I changed out of the jeans I donned after church and into a short denim skirt. I left the jeans and my panties on the bed.

Taking John by the arm, I said, “Come.” I led John to a chair where I sat on the edge, leaned back, spread my legs and said, “On your knees.”

John is not a stupid man. He recognized immediately what I wanted of him. I lifted my skirt until John scooted forward, leaned down, and his lips met mine. I dropped the hem of my skirt over his head, closed my eyes, relaxed, and enjoyed.

END of Part 2

John’s dive into chastity goes deeper in: Part 3 – Penetrative Sex

Copyright © 2022 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.

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