Think Carefully

Corporal Punishment

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

{ My thanks to lurkingcol whose photo captions related to F/M corporal punishment inspired this story. }

I guess I’ve read more than my share of FLR, Femdom, and Corporal Punishment, Women-Spanking-Men stories on the internet—not the spiked boots, black bustier, whip wielding stories. I am definitely not into scat or water sports. My guess is that damned few couples are into that extreme, but the loving spouse, teacher, aunt who provides discipline when appropriate really turns me on. I’ve spent hours browsing captioned photos on the subject, not to mention male-chastity themed images. My interest—my fascination—goes back to when I was a teenager, back before the internet was widely available, back before I met Gloria.

Finding Gloria was the best discovery of my life. I was entranced by her from the first moment we met. I was determined to do whatever it would take to win her hand. As it turned out, Gloria quickly developed a mutual attraction with me. Our relationship grew, and a year later—almost to the day—we were engaged to be married.

It hasn’t all been frosting on the cake, of course. Certainly not a Barbie/Ken storybook relationship. We are two real-life humans with all our respective foibles. Gloria and I are both strong-willed, independent thinkers (one of the traits that attracted me to Gloria in the first place), and I do occasionally get on her nerves by being contrary or acting foolishly. But over the years of our marriage, I have gradually ceded Gloria the leadership position on the home front. I have a high stress, high responsibility position at work, so it is a relief to not have to worry about being in charge when I get home.

Again, don’t read too much into this. I’m not pussy-whipped and Gloria is not my domme, I am just comfortable following her lead, most times.

I spend far too much time on the internet feeding my obsession, and lately it has made me feel a little guilty. My F/M spanking fantasy has taken up a corner of my life that has been walled off from my married life. If I would really like a spanking relationship with my wife, shouldn’t I let her know? Maybe—probably—she wouldn’t be interested, but is it fair for me to make that decision for her? And if she is interested… well, a lifetime of dreaming could become reality. A follow-on question is whether I would find that reality appealing. I don’t know if there is a way to determine that without giving it a try.

Once I decided I should approach Gloria about domestic discipline and corporal punishment (with her being the disciplinarian), I spent a couple weeks dithering. Would raising this topic lower Gloria’s estimate of my masculinity? The idea of a man lying over the knees of a woman for a bare-bottomed spanking is not the most macho image I can envision. In fact, it would be downright embarrassing.

Plus, would I find the reality of spankings more painful than the fantasy I have nurtured over these many years? I guess that’s likely, but would it be more than I can take? That question reverts to the one about my masculinity. I mean, sure it will be painful, spankings were invented to deliver deserved pain, but a grown man should be able to accept it without too much of a fuss. I think. Especially if he knew he deserved it.

Ultimately, Gloria noticed I was preoccupied whenever it was just the two of us. I suspect wives in general are more sensitive to the emotional states of their spouses than are their husbands. [ Except for those periods when women’s moods are seriously challenged by their biology. Husbands mostly keep their heads down at those times.] Gloria’s insight into me opened the door to my big reveal.

We were on the short drive to church Sunday morning when she said, “What’s been on your mind lately, John? You’ve seemed to be preoccupied. You’re not concealing some bad news from your annual physical last week, are you? Is there something you should be sharing with your wife?”

I forced a laugh—an affectation I’m not very good at. It didn’t help that she caught me by surprise. “No, nothing like that. I’ve just been thinking.”

When my response stopped there, Gloria got that—Here we go again, I’m going to have to dig for every word—tone in her voice. The tone a psychologist slips into when dealing with an uncommunicative patient at the end of a long day. “I’ve already guessed that. Care to share? It must be important for you to stew over it for so long.”

After another pause, more pregnant than the last, she said, “Should we play twenty questions? Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

My chuckle was more natural this time. Our Sunday morning drive is short, but I could see there was too much remaining for our arrival to save me from giving her an answer.

“I… It’s about the lack of discipline in my life.”

“Discipline…”

Okay, the cat’s out of the bag, I thought. Don’t stop now, you big coward. “Yeah, like when I screw up, or let slide my chores around the house, or am thoughtless in my treatment of you. There aren’t any real consequences, you know? You just get irritated with me, and I get obstinate in response.”

“You do that, and it doesn’t help our relationship. But you mentioned consequences as though you believe there should be some. What did you have in mind?”

I detected a rise in Gloria’s interest in the conversation. If I was going to reveal my preoccupation with female-male spanking in this lifetime, it was going to be now. Part of me wished another motorist would crash into us at the next intersection. Not a serious crash, just one to derail the conversation. Suffice to say, I was nervous.

“I’ve heard that some couples use corporal punishment,” I said. Over the previous two weeks, once I’d decided to act on my desires, I’d pictured myself being much more eloquent.

In response, Gloria muttered, “Hmm,” which told me nothing of what she thought, but indicated that she was considering what I said. Was that a good sign or a bad sign?

Further conversation was forestalled by our arrival in the church parking lot. I probably should have raised the topic again during the drive home after the service, but I didn’t. During the service, I’d been so busy second guessing what I’d already said, and whether I should have just kept my big mouth shut in the first place, I’d barely managed to stand and sit at the appropriate times with the rest of the congregation. So, with no good idea of what to add to the discussion, I drove in silence. Apparently, Gloria was of like mind.

After changing out of my ‘Sunday Best’, I fixed our usual Sunday morning breakfast, and our conversation—still a little awkward—reverted to our usual mundane topics. Neither of us came anywhere near the topic of corporal punishment for the rest of that day.

Monday started like any other back-to-work Monday (i.e., crappy), and I was soon back into the traces for another week. I considered our Sunday exchange that afternoon and found I had mixed feelings about the result. I was proud of the fact that I had finally found the courage to bring the topic up and was both disappointed and relieved it had gone nowhere. Corporal punishment has been a long-held fantasy, but perhaps fantasies in general are best left as just that, fantasies.

Neither of us brought corporal punishment into our conversation Monday evening, and during my drive to work Tuesday morning, I decided to scrap the whole idea. It was probably foolish to begin with. Hopefully, I had not lowered my standing in Gloria’s opinion. Me being naked, possibly kicking and crying, over Gloria’s fully clothed lap… Well, God willing, that image did not occur to her. As the week continued, I resolved to put the whole thing out of my mind.

At her request Thursday evening, I helped Gloria clear the table and straighten the kitchen after dinner. I usually go into the family room and watch the news, but I don’t mind helping now and then. When we were done, Gloria said, “Wait here, John, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Okay, I thought. Not sure what this is about. I could just go to the family room and let her find me there. This house is not so big it would be a problem for her.

I’d about acted on that notion when Gloria strode back into the kitchen and told me to sit at the table. She stood across the table from me and slid a semi-official looking piece of paper across to me.

“I talked to Marissa at work—you know her, she works in Legal—and she helped me compose this document that sums up your desire for corporal punishment at my hands. Not that just my hands would be involved, you understand. Read through it carefully, and I’ll be back in a few minutes to answer any questions you might have.” With that, she turned and left the kitchen.

One question came to mind immediately: You talked to Marissa about my request for discipline spankings?!

It took me more than a few minutes to get beyond that humiliating idea and actually read the document. Although it mostly filled two pages, the text was concise and inclusive. It essentially said that with my signature at the bottom, I acknowledged Gloria’s right and responsibility to spank and otherwise punish me in whatever manner she saw fit, for whatever reason she deemed such punishment appropriate. There were many more words than that, of course, it was couched in legalese and gave some specific examples of transgressions worthy of punishment. At the top, it was presented as an agreement rather than a contract. Which made sense. Slavery has been outlawed in this country for more than 150 years.

It wasn’t really that bad, but wow! It gave Gloria the right to spank me in any way she wanted, where and whenever she wanted. Maybe it was that bad!

I always had the impression Gloria’s friend, Marissa—ten years older than Gloria and me and a very conservative dresser—was kind of a ball buster. The evidence now lay before me. I could imagine the squeals of laughter as she and Gloria worked on the phrasing. I hoped they did not have to explain their outbursts to others in the adjoining offices. If it got out of hand, their Office Manager, also a woman, would probably have given everyone the rest of the day off. The jocularity, at least among the women, would likely have made getting any more work done that day out of the question. I don’t want to imagine what the men’s opinions might have been.

Okay, back to business. Do I sign? I read through the whole thing three times, rereading a few key paragraphs several times more. Gloria was right. Despite my initial reaction, and the cringe factor associated with Marissa’s involvement, the document pretty well summed up what I had in mind.

I didn’t have a pen and was considering going to get one when Gloria strode back into the room.

“Any questions, John?”

“You involved Marissa in our private affairs?”

“Yes. Is there anything else?”

I just sat there looking at her, dumbfounded.

In response to my silence, Gloria dropped a pen on the table in front of me and said, “Think carefully, John. Once you sign, it will be the hairbrush whenever you break any of my rules. I doubt you’ve ever been spanked by a real woman before. I expect to have you crying five minutes into one of my spankings, and I won’t stop. For you to make significant improvements, I must provide significant and inexorable motivation when you fall short.”

I didn’t think I’d been that bad, and it all sounded ominous. ‘Dumbfounded’ sort of morphed into ‘Dazed,’ but I picked up the pen, initialed the first page, and signed the second. My thoughts were: This is what I asked for… I think.

Gloria took back the pen and initialed and signed as well. Not sure why she had to sign. I was the only one to be spanked in this deal.

Gloria scooped the document off the table and left the room. I heard the snaps of the latches on the briefcase she uses to carry work to and from her office. She came back to the kitchen where I still sat wondering if I’d just done the dumbest thing ever done by a man.

“Let’s retire early, John,” she said. “I need to burn off some excess energy before going to sleep.” Her eyes glowed with lust.

I forgot about being stupid and followed her up to our room.

END of Part 1

The story continues with Think Carefully 2 .

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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