Think Carefully 7

Maintenance Spanking

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

{ Note: This is the seventh installment of this story. If you have not read the previous chapters, this one will make more sense to you if you do. The opener can be found here: Think Carefully. }

“‘From Gloria and those she may designate’,” I quoted from the plaque: “Rules for Hubby” posted on the kitchen wall behind me. The deal Gloria made was that she would move the plaque—which would be humiliating for me if our friends and neighbors saw it—to the bathroom off our bedroom upstairs, if I memorized it and could recite it before the first weekly maintenance spanking this evening.

“That’s good, John,” Gloria said.

I stood naked in front of my wife in our kitchen, awaiting her command for me to lie over her lap for the spanking.

I had stopped and picked up fried chicken from the colonel on my way home from work. Neither Gloria nor I am usually interested in fixing dinner by the time the work week finally ends. After we cleaned up and put the leftovers in the fridge, Gloria told me to strip.

I knew it was coming, so in the manner of the posted rules, I accepted the imminent punishment, displaying an “accepting and penitent spirit.” Gloria had pulled a kitchen chair away from the table and sat watching me in her tight jeans and loose-fitting top—her usual Friday-evening attire. She likes this outfit because it is comfortable, I like it because it shows off her figure. With that in mind, I was struggling to keep my little soldier in the at-ease position. Having a raging hard-on might not be considered consistent with a penitent spirit.

As a closet spanko for as long as I can remember, regular maintenance spankings were among my fantasies. Also part of those fantasies, was the humiliation of standing naked before a fully clothed woman. The actuality, I’m discovering, is more embarrassing than I projected. Gloria and I are not strangers to each other’s naked forms, obviously, but this was different. This had much more the feel of a parent-child relationship than of the normal wife and her husband. I was finding it hard not to fidget or to cover up.

“The recitation of your rules was perfect, John,” Gloria said. “Counting them from one to eight, which rule begins with the letter O, and what does that rule require?”

That was another part of my assignment. There are eight major rules, some of which have subparagraphs, and I was to memorize the eight opening letters of the rules in order as an aid to memorizing the complete text.

“O is the first letter of the fifth rule,” I said, after counting on my fingers down from the top, “and it reads, ‘Obey Gloria’s instructions and commands, immediately and without question.’”

“Very good,” Gloria said, “and in that spirit, you may lay yourself over my lap.”

I did not hesitate. Strange as it seems, prone across Gloria’s knees with my bare ass up and waiting to be spanked was less humiliating than standing naked in front of her, hoping my todger would not grow and add to my embarrassment.

Gloria rested her hand on my ass and said, “You’ve been a good boy this week, John, and you’ve memorized your rules, as I requested. So, this first maintenance spanking will be delivered with that in mind.”

A huge relief! This was not to be a punishment spanking. Gloria’s hairbrush was within her reach on the kitchen table, and that damned brush sets my ass burning like the fires of hell when she uses it to make a point. With luck, it will remain where it is for tonight.

Gloria landed a brisk spank to my bottom with her hand, harder than need be, I thought. She gave me three more and paused to rub them in.

“You may find next week more of a challenge,” she said. “I’ll be posting your chores for the week tomorrow morning. You’ll have the weekend and all week to get them done, but I would advise you not to put them off until the last minute.”

Gloria delivered four more surprisingly firm spanks before pausing again, smoothing her hand over my ass. “Remember, I’ll be inspecting your work and I intend to be a critical inspector. So, see that you perform your tasks well, if you do not want next week’s maintenance spanking to involve my hairbrush.”

Cautions given and received—I fully intended to do my chores with great attention to detail. When it comes to keeping the house in order, I consider Gloria a neat freak. I, on the other hand, am more relaxed and am not distressed by a little organized disorder. She has not posted my chores yet, but I’m willing to bet sorting and disposing of the various stacks of important papers I have distributed around the house will be near the top of the list.

Gloria was getting into this maintenance session, and my thoughts were redirected from possible chores next week to the mounting heat she was generating in my ass. I’d not been paying attention and did not notice that I was building an erection on my front side in response to Gloria’s smacks to my backside. This was so right out of my fantasies! I’d outgrown the image of my mother taking me over her knee, or the schoolteacher doing likewise. For years, the imaginary disciplinarian has been my wife. I was loving it even as her stinging hand turned my ass a deeper shade of pink.

I was determined to not spurt my excitement on my wife’s jeans. A maintenance session, while not as serious as a punishment spanking, was intended to make a point. That point did not include sexual release—pure pleasure–for the one being spanked. So, I started counting, trying to predict where the next spank would fall, timing my breathing with the rhythm of her swats, diverting my mind from the joy of finally living my sexual fantasy.

My butt was plenty hot when Gloria finally stopped and returned to stroking. My techniques had worked, I had not squirted, but it was a near thing.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Gloria said. “My hand is still not conditioned to deliver a decent spanking. I’ve read this implement gets into those hard-to-reach spots, so let’s give it a try.”  Spit!  Spat!  Spit!

“Ouch!” I blurted. That… whatever it was… covered much less area than Gloria’s hand or her hairbrush, but it had a real sting to it and the rate of impact was much quicker. I looked back to see her raising a wooden spoon and flicking it back down.

Gloria then showed me what she meant by “hard to reach spots.” Using her left hand to spread open the crack of my ass, she flicked sharp little spanks from the top of my crack, working down onto the inner surface of my thigh. She stopped about four inches down my thigh, then changed hands to work on the other side.

The spoon, as Gloria employed it, was not as painful as a hard application of her hairbrush, so I suppose I should be thankful for her choice. But it did sting. I mean, it really did sting, especially because of the tender areas of my body where she applied it.

Finished with her left hand, she switched hands again and repeated the sequence. I had forgotten about my imminent orgasm; it was no longer a concern. And I struggled to remain in position over Gloria’s lap until the spanking was over.

“That should be enough for this week,” Gloria said. “On your feet now. Keep your hands at your sides and go stand in that corner next to the back door. I imagine you’d like to rub your ass with your hands about now. You do not have my permission. Stand still in silence without fidgeting until I release you from the corner. Use this time to think about ways in which you can be a better husband in the coming week.”

I wanted to rub my ass—to feel the heat generated back there with my hands. I also wanted to soothe the areas of my inner thighs where the wooden spoon had done its work. The spoon is light enough that deep bruising was not a concern, but that part of the body is very tender, and the sting lingered. I knew I should be thinking as Gloria directed, about my being a better husband, but my mind was occupied reliving the spanking. The pain was receding, leaving me with the mental image of me, totally naked, across the thighs of my wife, totally clothed, being spanked. Fabulous!

I stood for hours. Well, minutes really, I guess. Maybe dog-hours. Gloria was still in the kitchen with me. Probably reading a book or doing crossword puzzles.

“This is really boring.”

“Quiet, dear, no talking.”

I wonder what time it is, I thought. I should have looked at the clock when Gloria sent me here. Then, when she releases me, I could see how long I stood in this stupid corner.

After several more dog-hours, Gloria surprised me (I was busy estimating the gap in fractions of millimeters between the wall and the door molding.) when she broke the silence. “John, what’s the password for access to your computer?”

“Uhm, why do you ask?”

“It occurred to me—actually, Marissa suggested it—that I could learn more about your spanking and related fantasies if I took a look at your internet browsing history. I thought I would spend some time on your computer tomorrow. It might be quite revealing.”

Revealing! I thought. Down right scary! I spend way too much time on spanking story and picture sites, and I never bother to clear my browsing history. Why should I? I’m the only one who ever uses my computer. Gloria has her own machine (much newer and far faster). Plus, a lot of those same sites also cater to men and women who are into things like feminization, cuckoldry, pegging, male chastity and that’s just the mainstream topics.

Chastity, I thought, damn! We’re approaching the end of September, and half the sites I visit are talking about Locktober. Okay, so the idea of being locked in a steel cage, the key held by my wife, is a little arousing. But I sure as hell do not want to actually wear one of those things for a month.

“John, are you still there? What’s your password?” Gloria’s voice was a little more demanding now.

I had apparently taken too long to respond to her request. I flashed back to the sight of the hairbrush on the kitchen table, coupled with my current bare-assed situation, and told her my password.

“Thank you, dear. You can come out of the corner now. Come over here and thank me for your weekly maintenance spanking.”

I turned to face my wife. While I was standing in the corner, she’d removed her jeans and panties. I’m amazed I did not hear her taking off her jeans. She grinned and pointed at the floor between her widespread knees.

After I had thoroughly “thanked” my wife for spanking me, she helped me to my feet, then led me up to our bedroom where we could express a little more mutual gratitude. I was cautioned not to expect sex after every spanking, but spanking me did turn her on, and I had been a good boy this week.

Later, after Gloria had all but exhausted me, we spooned with her back to my front in preparation to sleep. I was tired, and would have liked to drift off, but I had a problem that I had to solve before morning. There were some bdsmlr.com sites in my history I needed to clear. If Gloria saw them, I’d have a lot of ‘splainin’ to do.

Thankfully, Gloria was as tired as I was. Although I don’t know why that would be. I’d done all the work since we went to bed. I checked the clock and waited an additional ten minutes before I slid slowly and silently out from under the covers.

After donning my robe and slippers, I stood in the dark for another minute listening to Gloria breathe. I figured as long as I didn’t trip and crash into something, or slam the door on my way out, I could go downstairs to my computer, do what was required, and sneak back up to bed with my wife none the wiser.

{Here’s a question for the reader: Do you think this plan has a snowball’s chance in hell of actually working? If you were John, could you pull it off?}

We sleep with our bedroom door closed, and it squeaks when you open it, so I moved it very slowly to minimize the noise. I’d forgotten about the nightlight in the hall. It’s not bright, unless you compare it to near total darkness. I squeezed through the doorway quickly and closed it carefully behind me. From there, I was home free.

I woke my computer out of sleep mode, then looked for the instructions for altering the history on my browser. Simple, I’m sure, but as I said, I’d never done it before. In truth, I didn’t even know where it was stored. You can learn anything on the internet, and I soon had the location and called the history up on my screen.

It was at this point that I heard Gloria say from the doorway behind me, “Thank you, John. Now I won’t have to go looking for that screen in the morning.”

“Jeez!” I said and damned near fell out of my chair. “You scared the crap out of me. I was just…”

“It’s obvious what you were doing, and we’ll address it at the proper time. Now, get out of that chair—do not touch your keyboard—and go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute. I just want to change the login password to your machine, so no foreign hacker can ransom your data before I have time to review it in the morning.”

END of Part 7

The story continues with: Think Carefully 8

Copyright © 2023 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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