Spanked for Bad Habits

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

As I entered the house after a typical, long day on the job, I was greeted with the sounds:  WHAP!  WHAP!  WHAP!  “No!  Mom!  I’m sorry!”  WHAP!  WHAP!  WHAP!

“Have you learned your lesson yet?  Will we have to have this discussion again?”  WHAP!!

“No, no, please mom, I’ll never do it again.  I promise.”

As I walked into the kitchen where the action was taking place, my wife Lorie was assisting our sixteen-year-old son Mark off of her lap.

“Pull your pants up and get to your room.  I’ll be in in a few minutes to check on you, and I expect to find you hard at work on that homework.  Understand?” she scolded, her trusty hairbrush still held in her fist.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mark said with a sniff and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve.  This is a habit that drives Lorie to distraction, but she looked at me, shook her head and let it pass.

“All right, git!” she commanded, pointing her hard maple weapon towards the stairs.  Mark finished pulling up his pants, scooted from the kitchen and up to his room.

“So how high did the count get to this time?” I asked.

Lorie has a set pattern she follows when punishing Mark.  Once his pants are around his ankles, he is required to put himself across his mother’s knee.  She has no interest in wrestling with him.  If he does not do so immediately, she will start to count.  If the count gets to five, and he still is not in position, she will double the number of spanks with the hairbrush.  When she spanks, she usually starts with her hand, but finishes with the brush giving one stroke for each year of his age.  Non-cooperation means the hairbrush strokes automatically go from sixteen to thirty-two.  After the first time that happened, Mark has never let the count get to five again.

“Three,” Lorie answered.  “That’s where it stops these days.  At his age, and being male, he likes to push me, but he is smart enough not to push too far.”

“I’ll bet,” I responded with a chuckle, “I don’t blame him one bit.  What set off this session?”

“I got a call from Mrs. Stevens, his algebra teacher.  Seems he has not been turning in his homework, and when she sent a note home, he forged my signature and took it back to her the next day.  He’s a smart kid, but a complete bust as a forger.  Mrs. Stevens saw through it and called me.  I don’t think we will see that trick played again.”

“I’ll bet not,” I laughed.  “You get pretty good results with that hairbrush.  Mark gets into a lot less trouble than I did when I was his age.  My mother used time-outs for discipline and punishment.  Not nearly the disincentive that hard maple applied to a bare bottom would have been.”

“Your mother didn’t spank you?” Lorie asked, an appraising look in her eye.  She was still sitting on the kitchen chair turned out into the room, still holding her heavy wooden hairbrush.  Her legs in tight blue jeans were crossed, one foot swinging.  “That explains a few things.”

“Yeah, I suppose.  Sometimes I wish she had been more like you when I was growing up.  It might have saved me a lot of trouble in later years.”

“No doubt.”

A long silence followed this exchange, with Lorie looking at me, waiting for me to say something more.  Me?  I was standing there, feeling awkward, and casting about in my mind for a suitable exit line.  What I wanted was to go change out of my work clothes and sit down with the news on cable until dinner was ready.

“I’ve been thinking about our argument last night,” I finally volunteered, the silence getting to me.  “You were right.  Sorry I made such a big deal about it.  Sometimes I get too wound up in the argument and stop considering the facts involved.  Bad habit.  Sorry.”  ‘There, that should do it,’ I thought.  ‘Think I’ll have a large martini before dinner.’  I felt rather proud of myself for the way I admitted my guilt and took all the blame.

As I turned away, Lorie said, “Seems your bad habit has gotten worse lately, John.”

I stopped and turned back.  “What?” I asked.  My mind was more on the future martini than what my wife said, but I didn’t want to be so rude as to ignore her.

“Your habit of arguing with me, even over little things, seems to have gotten worse.  At least you’re doing it a lot more often than you used to?”

“Really?  Yeah, you may be right.  Guess I’ll have to work on that.”  I’d been on my feet most of the day and standing there in the kitchen having this unwanted conversation was getting to be a little uncomfortable.  That future martini was evolving in my plans from a double to a triple… with three olives.  ‘Is she done talking?  Will I piss her off if I leave now?’ I paused a bit too long before making my break.

“I could help you.  It’s never too late to learn a little discipline,” Lorie interrupted my ruminations, tapping her hairbrush into her other hand.

“What?” I said, feeling stupid as soon as the reflexive question was out of my mouth.  I knew what she meant.  I mean with that hairbrush and her serious expression, there was not a doubt in my mind what she meant.  No one has ever spanked me, and Lorie never indicated the slightest interest in taking on the job.  Do husbands and wives actually do that sort of thing?  If they do, I’ve sure never heard of it.  Of course, I wouldn’t, would I?  I mean, it’s not something one of the guys would bring up in the locker room—Boy, my wife sure spanked my ass good last night; near brought me to tears—never happen.

“Don’t you think we are a little too old for that?  Uh, well, not you but me,” I back tracked.  “Aren’t I too old to be spanked?”

Lorie continued to look at me for a long moment, then said, “What do you think?  Are you happy living in a home with constant bickering?  Do you think this environment is good for Mark or me?  You said yourself it was a bad habit; shouldn’t we do something about it?  You agreed that my methods are working well with Mark.  Or, are you afraid to face the consequences for bad behavior?”

“No, I’m not afraid,” I answered.  “It just seems a little silly.  It’s been many years since I was sixteen.”

“True, but your mother wasted those years, leaving us to live with your bad habits now.  Perhaps if she had used more effective techniques, it would not still be an issue.  So, what do you say, sport?  Shall we give it a shot?  If it works, things will go a lot smoother around here for the whole family.”

“I-I guess,” I stuttered, not at all sure to what I was agreeing.  One thing I did know, was I did not want this to turn into another one of our arguments.  I was sorry for the previous night’s bad temper, and besides, it seemed to me that Lorie was being entirely reasonable.  And, if I’m going to start a fight, I always like to have at least some small sense that I have the right of it, even if I don’t.

“Good,” Lorie said as she rose from her chair.  “I’ll go check on Mark.  He usually has his headset on listening to music when he does his homework, so if we take this discussion to the basement rec room, there is no chance he will hear us.  You go get ready, I’ll meet you there.”

She strode out of the kitchen so quickly and with such purpose, that I didn’t have a chance to begin an objection, even if I could have thought of one.  I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened, and failed.  So, I headed for the stairs to the basement.  ‘What did she mean by “get ready”,’ I wondered.  ‘Ready for a spanking?  From what I know of the subject, she is the one who will do all the work.’

When I got down to the rec room, I was at a complete loss what to do next.  This idea seemed less and less good all the time.  ‘Spankings hurt’ I thought.  ‘At least they hurt sixteen-year-olds.  Many of the things that cause pain in kids are no big deal for adults, especially men.  On the other hand, the whole idea of a spanking—going pants down over someone’s knee—was pretty humiliating.  If we did this, would Lorie tell anybody?  She doesn’t keep much from her mother.  No, she wouldn’t, would she?’

“John, why are you standing there?” Lorie asked, startling me out of my musings.  I’d not heard her come down the stairs.  “Pull that chair out of the corner and put it here in the middle of the room, then drop your pants.  Let’s get this over with so I can get back to fixing dinner.”

I went to get the chair, but as I was carrying it back I said, “Maybe this is not such a good idea.”

“Nonsense,” Lorie said, “don’t chicken out now.  You agreed that a good spanking was necessary to help you with your bad habits.”

‘Did I?’ I wondered.  ‘Well maybe I did, kind of, but…  Aw shit.  Might as well get it over with.’

I put down the chair, and Lorie sat and looked at me.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Drop your pants.”

I undid my belt, unsnapped and unzipped my pants and let them fall to the floor around my ankles.

“Those too,” Lorie said, indicating my boxers.

‘Too late to back out now.’  I pulled my boxers to my knees feeling the humiliation I had hypothesized minutes before.  Not that I was embarrassed to be naked in front of Lorie, but under these circumstances, with her still fully clothed and waiting for me to lay myself over her lap, my naked butt pointing up in the air, now that was embarrassing.

Wanting to get it over with, I did not delay, but placed myself over my wife’s waiting thighs.

Lorie patted my cheeks a few times, then directed, “Scoot further forward, dear.”  She put her hand between my legs and helped me to adjust my position until my head was closer to the floor and my feet barely touched on the other side.

“That’s better,” she said.  “Now, since this is your first ever spanking, here are the rules.”

‘Rules now, can’t we just get on with it?’

“Kicking your feet and a little squirming is okay, it’s hard to keep still when you are being spanked, but don’t get carried away.  If you try to get off my lap, or squirm so you fall off, we’ll start the whole thing over from the beginning.  Trust me, you do not want that to happen.  Also, you can cry and even ask for mercy if the mood strikes you, just don’t expect me to pay any attention.  We’ll be done when I’m done.  And try to not make too much noise.  I doubt Mark could hear an atomic blast when he’s got his music coming through those headphones, but we would not like him or the neighbors to know you are being spanked.”

‘Damned straight on that one.  That would take humiliation to a whole new level.’

“So here we go,” she finished.  “I’ll warm you up with my hand, before we begin your real spanking.”

Without further delay, I heard a sharp SMACK and a noticeable tingle to my backside.  The sound surprised me more than the sting, and I was worried our son would hear what was going on, but on reflection, Lorie was right.  There was no chance.

After four such smacks, but little real pain, Lorie said, “Think about what you do that has put you in this position, dear.  Let’s make this a learning experience so we do not have to do it too often.”  Then she resumed her efforts, a little harder now.

‘Too often?  Fat chance.  This is a onetime deal.  For sure.’

I didn’t keep track of how long Lorie spanked me or count the spanks, but it seemed like quite a long time and I was getting uncomfortable back there before she stopped.  Not that I couldn’t put up with the rising sting; I am an adult male.

“That should do it,” Lorie announced, stopping the hand spanking.  “You’ve got a nice rosy glow going, so we can move on to the hairbrush.  Remember the rules now, John, thirty-three with this hairbrush is no laughing matter.  Do your best to take it like a man.”

‘Thirty-three?  Oh, yeah, my age.  “Take it like a man?” that’s what I’ve been doing.  Mark would have kicked and cried long since if he was getting this spanking.  Do your worst, woman.  I can take it.’

WHAP!!

“Ouch!  Shit!  Take it easy with that damned thing!  That really stings!”

“Tone it down, dear, and watch your language.  You’ll distract me and make me lose count.”

WHAP!!  WHAP!!  WHAP!!  Those were even harder than the first one, it that’s possible.  I ground my teeth together, determined to not cry out again—wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.  But she had to be causing significant damage, and at fifteen or twenty hard spanks, a slight whine escaped my clamped lips.  ‘Jeez, did Lorie change places with a lumberjack when I wasn’t watching?  I had no idea she could spank this hard.’

“I think I’ve had enough,” I managed to get out several spanks later in a strained but almost normal voice.  “You’ve made your point.  You can stop now.  Stop now, honey.  Stop, Lorie.  Lorie, please stop.”  I suspect my voice sounded a lot less normal toward the end.

Despite my reasonable requests, Lorie kept paddling me with her brush.  I hadn’t noticed, but my legs were doing some kind of frog dance, and Lorie had long since captured my right hand when I attempted to shield my burning bottom.  She didn’t miss a beat.  Hard, hard spanks continued to rain down on my defenseless ass, stoking that fire until I was sure the smoke alarms were about to go off all over the house.

I was becoming a little frantic.  That brush hurt, and Lorie was a real pro at putting it right where it would do the most good, from the tops of my cheeks to the crease where my bottom met my thighs.  I was in significant distress, and no longer taking it well when, after minutes that seemed like hours, Lorie stopped.  She put down the brush and began to stroke the injured area.

“That’s thirty-three, dear,” she said once I quieted down a little.  “Well, thirty-four if you count the first one which didn’t count because of your bad language.  What do you think?  Would you have the bad habits you have today if your mother spanked you when you were younger?”

“Hell no,” I blurted, and Lorie smacked me with her hand.  “Sorry.  No, dear.  Absolutely not.  Just one spanking like that when I was young would have cured me for life.”

“Good.  Let’s hope it works now, even at your age.  You can get up.  We’re through for this time, at least.”

I decided it might be best to ignore the “this time” comment for now, at least until I climbed off of Lorie’s lap and pulled up my pants.

“That was some experience,” I commented, rubbing my backside.  “I never want to go through that again.  I admit, however, that I’m looking forward to a time in the near future when I can hold you in that position.”

Lorie gave me a hard look and said, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said, ignoring all the signs that I should shut up and get the crap out of there, “I can’t wait until our roles are reversed and I’m the one wielding that hairbrush from hell with your delightful, pink bottom as the target.”

“Get back over my lap, John.”

“What?  What for?”

“Someone hasn’t learned who wields the hairbrush in this family, but he is about to.  Now get back over my lap.”

“But you can’t.”

“One.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Two.”

“Please, Lorie, honey…”

“Three.”

END

Copyright © 2008 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All right reserved.  Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.