Married to the Sheriff

by Kira Barcelo

  “I hope you’re right, Sheriff,” one of the fishermen said, staring up at the three mug shots flashing across the television screen, “’cause those don’t look like anybody I’d want to meet in a dark alley…”

  * * * * *

  Lunch. It was only supposed to last an hour, an hour and a half, tops. That would have given Debbie enough time for a sandwich and some girl-talk, so that she could tell Mike later on when he came home that she’d made time for herself. After that she could have been on her way home and back on schedule with her chores.

  How on earth had she gotten roped into going to the department store with Laura Dunaway? And only Debbie had accompanied her, too. The other two women, Irene and Marsha, had hurried off right after lunch, claiming they had teenaged kids to tend to and housework to do.

  “Will this take very long?” Debbie asked Laura as they entered through the store’s main entrance.

  “Oh—no, not at all, Debbie, honey,” her friend insisted. “I just have to take this cute, little dress back.”

  “Take it back? Why do you have to take it back?” She was confused. “Isn’t that the dress you were crazy about? The one you told us you couldn’t wait to get?”

  “Uh-huh. The little black one. Except I went over my budget with that. And now I have to take it back.” Laura’s cheeks blushed with embarrassment. She lowered her voice and admitted, “You know, I got spanked real good for that one. So the dress goes back today or I’m in for round number two with that hairbrush.”

  Debbie frowned. “What?”

  Laura shook a finger at her. “Don’t you dare tell the other girls that. Promise?”

  “Laura, tell them what?”

  Her friend’s expression turned to one of light mischief.

  “Well, I suppose they’ve been spanked, too. I know for a fact Marsha has. Especially being the wife of that no-nonsense sea captain.”

  “Spanked? You were spanked for getting that dress?”

  Laura’s eyes widened and she gave Debbie’s arm a light slap. “Shhh! I don’t want that broadcasted, silly!”

  Debbie was speechless. She picked up her gait slightly to keep up with Laura, who moved briskly in those high-heeled pumps.

  Spencer Department Store was the first of its kind, and the only major place to shop other than the five-and-dime, in Lighthouse Cove. It had been opened for a year and was always buzzing with customers, there to shop or just to browse. From the housewares department to the costume jewelry and the clothes, a gal could easily get lost in there.

  And who could resist buying a pretty, frilly little number to wear on a night out?

  “Roger spanked you because you bought the dress?” Debbie asked in a near-whisper.

  “No, ma’am. He spanked me for going over my budget. And that’s not the first time he’s had to tell me about that.” Also speaking low, Laura confided, “We have a rule in our house. The first time I get a warning. Second time, I get a warming. As in, my butt gets warm. Actually, it gets hotter than that, by the time he’s done with that hairbrush. And I don’t know about the sheriff, but my Roger spanks hard.”

  We could not possibly really be having this conversation! Debbie thought, alarmed.

  “Oh, well, it sounds like you don’t have a problem with that in your house,” Debbie said, struggling to keep from sounding uppity. “But the sheriff would never spank me.”

  “Really?” That word sounded almost feathery, spoken through her friend’s knowing smirk. “Come back and tell me that in a year. But I’m guessing it’ll be a lot sooner than that. In fact, if you make it through this summer without getting turned over Mike Brandt’s knee, I’ll be very surprised. Very.”

  Debbie managed to repeat tightly, “He would never do that. I don’t even want to be having this conversation, Laura.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Hi, Laura! Oh, Debbie—congratulations!”

  Turning, Debbie faced a tall, slim woman in a skirt and flowery top. Her long brown hair was curled at the ends and she wore glasses. At her side was a little boy, a handsome little guy with dark hair like his mother’s. Luckily, Debbie remembered her name. The woman was a neighbor, living only half a block away from the Brandts.

  “Oh, thank you, Beverly!” she exclaimed. “Sorry. It took me a moment, because I’m not good with names, and plus, you’re new in town.”

  “I know. And I’m not always around, either,” her neighbor conceded, smiling shyly. “With a full-time job and my son, it’s kind of hard.”

  “Well, welcome to Lighthouse Cove anyway,” Debbie said.

  Laura tugged her away by an arm. “Sorry to rush off, but I have to return a dress and get back in time to make dinner. You understand, Beverly, dear.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” The newcomer blinked, her gaze meeting Debbie’s. “Nice to see you again. I’d love to have you over sometime, maybe for coffee and cake.”

  “I’d like that, too,” Debbie said. “This week I’m still getting things in order, what with being newly married and all. But maybe next Wednesday?”

  Beverly brightened. “I’d really like that, yes. Can we do it about three-thirty in the afternoon? If it’s all right with your husband.”

  “I’m sure it would be. Wednesday at three, it is.”

  Laura watched the woman walk away, guiding her six-year-old son by the hand.

  “That’s a very bad idea, getting too close to that woman,” she said, turning her nose up in the air.

  Debbie sighed. “Now why would that be?”

  “Because that woman is a divorcée. You know what they say about divorced women.”

  “No, Laura, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  Catching on to Debbie’s irritation with her, Laura snippily replied, “They’re loose women. Hot to trot. She got rid of her man, so considering how long it took you to get married, I’d be very careful not to let her get too close to my man.”

  Debbie stared at her. Is that what her friends had thought of her, too? That she, as a longtime single woman, had been a threat around their husbands? Was that why they’d suddenly taken to inviting her out more often?

  Or, even worse, had they believed their men were “safe” around a spinster in her late thirties? Either possibility left her with a decidedly bad taste in her mouth.

  But then she was distracted by the exchange between her friend and the saleswoman in the dress department.

  “You’re returning it?” The sales lady appeared surprised, looking over the rim of her glasses as she accepted the fancy black dress from the bag. “But I thought you loved it, honey. What happened?”

  “Ohhh, I really should have checked my household budget first,” Laura moaned. “You know how that is.”

  The saleswoman nodded. “Well, I can certainly appreciate that.”

  Debbie suppressed a gasp. As soon as the saleswoman turned, Laura glanced around, seeing no one paying attention, other than Debbie. Then, ever so discreetly, she reached back her hand and slowly rubbed her left bottom cheek. She was also wincing mildly…as if she were still sore.

  Sore…from a spanking. Without warning, a mental image flashed through Debbie’s mind, of her friend over her husband’s lap, squealing and wriggling madly as a wide-backed hairbrush was brought down repeatedly on her backside.

  Unexpectedly—very unexpectedly—Debbie felt flushed and tingly all over. What was wrong with her, behaving that way? That image gave way to another, more personal one, of the same hairbrush in Mike’s hand, being applied to her bottom.

  If you make it through this summer without getting turned over Mike Brandt’s knee, I’ll be very surprised.

  “Debbie? Debbie, where are you going?” Laura called after her.

  She had turned and was nearly stumbling to leave.

  “I—I could use some fresh air,” she blurted, so embarrassed, even though no one could have ever guessed the thoughts flitting through her mind.

  * * * * *

  “I will do nothing
of the sort. And I’ll go a step further and tell you not to stick your pretty little nose in your friend’s business.”

  Debbie nearly dropped the plate she’d been washing when Mike made the remark. Turning, she dried her hands on her apron.

  “I don’t think you heard me right,” she said. “I said Roger Dunaway spanked Laura. He spanked her for going over her budget and buying a party dress.”

  “I did, in fact, hear you correctly. And I said,” Mike told her, “butt out, young lady. Frankly, if your friend’s been told not to go over her budget and she willfully disobeyed her husband, then she deserved every bit of that spanking.”

  Her head was reeling. She didn’t like getting sidetracked from her chores and she still had half a sink full of dinner dishes, plus a couple of pans, to wash and scrub before she could make the coffee and relax. Yet the discussion took precedence.

  “So—so he can beat her?” She was incredulous.

  “Oh, now, baby, I never said beat. You did not hear that word come out of my mouth. A man that beats a woman is no man at all.”

  “But—but she said it plain as day, that they have a rule in their house.”

  “A rule? What might that be?”

  “It was—oh, now, let me think…” Debbie tapped the side of her mouth with a fingernail. “Oh, that’s right: If she’s told once about something, it’s a warning. If she’s told twice, it becomes a warming, with an ‘m,’ as in, he warms her behind with a hairbrush.”

  Mike chuckled. The man had the nerve to laugh! Finally pursing his lips and nodding, he said, “First, warning; second, warming. I like that. It’s got a ring to it. Good rule for this household, too. So now, my sweet bride, you have your warning: Don’t meddle in the affairs between a husband and wife. That’s not what I do as sheriff. And if we have to have this discussion again, you’ll be getting your pretty bottom warmed over my knee. Am I making myself clear, Deborah?”

  That time, she would have dropped the plate. Fortunately, the only thing in her hand was the sponge, which she gripped even tighter.

  “Perfectly,” she said through her teeth.

  “Good.” He softened and kissed her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in the living room. I want to catch the news. They’ve got an all-points bulletin out on those men who escaped from prison. Hopefully, they’ve been caught by now.”

  “Oh, I hope so, too.”

  She tried to sound like everything was fine, as if she weren’t absolutely hopping mad. She had just been told, in no uncertain terms, to mind her own business. Disobeying that order would result in her getting spanked. Spanked like a child, even though she was thirty-seven years old, way past the age for a spanking. Her temper was, at that point, on a low simmer. Pouting, she had to remind herself not to throw a glass into the sink’s soapy water.

  But he really couldn’t be serious…could he?

  Under the pretense of wiping down the table with a sponge, she peeked into the living room. Mike hadn’t really been angry; he’d spoken sternly to her, sterner than she’d ever seen him, but he hadn’t actually been furious. Now he sat on the couch, looking handsome and relaxed in his casual pants and a short-sleeved shirt, his attention riveted to the news report coming across the six o’clock news. He had changed out of his uniform as soon as he’d come home from work.

  Maybe if she appealed to him calmly, rather than allowing herself to get worked up? Sincerely, she was still getting used to marriage. It was one thing to date a man, to be courted by him, and another thing entirely to live with him as man and wife.

  That’s not what I do as sheriff. How silly of her! Of course it wasn’t his job. With renewed confidence, she marched into the living room and seated herself on the edge of the coffee table.

  “Honey, how about this,” she began, “what if you were to send a deputy over there? Just to keep an eye on things? Doesn’t have to be right away or anything.”

  Mike frowned. “Debbie, I thought we were done discussing this matter. Are we having our first spat? As man and wife?”

  “Not at all, sweetheart!” She poured honey on her tone and hugged his neck, giving him a peck on the lips. “We’re having a discussion, that’s all. You’re right about that not being your job—”

  “And it’s not a deputy’s job, either. I don’t have enough deputies on the force to send to every single household where a naughty wife gets spanked here in Lighthouse Cove. And this is not something that’s open to discussion, honey. I don’t think you took me seriously. Did I not just warn you not to meddle in other people’s affairs?”

  “Yes, yes, you did, but—”

  “But you didn’t take me seriously. I am very disappointed in you, Deborah. It seems to me that your friend Laura isn’t the only one who needs a spanking.”

  “What? Oh—n-nooo—”

  Before she could argue her case, Mike closed both his hands around her waist, lifting her off the coffee table and flipping her over his lap. At first Debbie laid still, in shock over what had just happened. She snapped out of it quickly when she felt his hand raising her skirt over her back, revealing her cotton panties, his other hand holding her firmly in place. That was when she began to panic and squirm.

  “Oh, no, forget what I said!” She changed her tune quickly, and though she couldn’t see him, her husband was holding back a laugh. “You don’t have to send a deputy. You don’t have to do anything, honey. You’re right. You—Miiiiiiike!”

  He’d peeled down her panties all the way down to the middle of her thighs. One of the electric fans in the house had been moved to the living room because of the summer night’s heat, and she could feel the cool air on her exposed bottom. She had a sinking feeling that coolness wouldn’t last for long.

  “First a warning, then a warming,” Mike reminded her. He sounded even-tempered, even calm. “Debbie, this spanking will be a warning, too. Because this is more about you testing me and taking me seriously. It’s about respect…”

  “But I—I do respect you, I do, I—owwwwww!”

  That first time his large hand connected with her backside smarted even more than she’d anticipated. She’d barely been able to catch her breath before his hand came down again a second time, and then a third. She wriggled on his lap, first to the left, then to the right.

  “Warming” was 100 percent accurate. Right from the start, she’d felt a heat in her bottom cheeks that just kept growing in intensity. He spanked her slowly, rhythmically, yet fast enough that she didn’t seem to have time to recover from the last stinging smack to her seat.

  By the tenth whack—or maybe it was the twelfth, or the fourteenth, might as well have been the hundredth—she reached back with her hand in an attempt to shield her poor bottom from further onslaught. Mike stopped momentarily and caught it by the wrist.

  “Never do that, Debbie,” he admonished. “Never reach back here while you’re getting spanked. I don’t want to hurt your hand.”

  “Oh. Okay. That’s good to know. Ohhhhhh….” What was she even saying? Her hair was in her face and she could feel him pinning her hand to the small of her back, more to get it out of the way.

  And then the spanking resumed. Her hand, he wouldn’t hurt, but boy, did he ever not have a problem with making her rear end hurt! She resigned herself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let her off his lap until he felt she’d been spanked soundly enough and remained there, grunting and yelping.

  After what seemed like several dozen more spanks applied to her glowing tail, the spanking stopped. She felt him stroke her back gently, which interestingly enough put her at ease, and though she felt like her bottom was one big fireball, she felt she could breathe normally again.

  “Now, baby. Do you still want to discuss this—this situation about your friend and her husband?” Mike asked her, quietly.

  “Um, uh, no. I need to finish the dishes and make coffee. And I think this discussion is over.”

  She winced when he patted her behind. It was a loving gesture, b
ut she was even too sore for a few soft love pats.

  “That’s my good girl. I’m glad.” Gently, Mike pulled her panties up, first grinning at the hot pink blush in her cheeks—not bad for his very first spanking in a long time, if he did say so himself—and then he smoothed her skirt back down. Righting her back onto her feet, he stood, looked her directly in the eye, and asked, “So, my dear: Should we get a deputy over here so you can explain what just happened to you while you were across my knee?”

  Instantly, her face turned as red as her other end. He had to say, she looked pretty darn cute, even with her eyes welling up like a penitent little girl, her hands flying behind her to rub her well-spanked bottom. “Ohhhhhh, noooooo, Mike! That’s p-private!”

  “Ahhhh, so that is private, eh? Hmmm. Not to mention…very embarrassing, wouldn’t you say?” He tipped her chin up with a hand and kissed her. “Your friend would really appreciate you respecting her privacy, too, baby. I think I just made got my point across to you.”

  TWO

  The next morning found Debbie up a good half hour earlier than usual. Before climbing out of bed, she luxuriated in its warmth, a warmth that came from having her husband’s body curled around hers. She gazed at him and smiled, thinking of how sweetly boyish he looked when he was asleep.

  What a stark contrast to all those years she’d spent, waking up alone in her bed. Since it was Saturday, one of his days off, why not let him sleep a few minutes longer? The man of the house, as hard as he worked, certainly deserved that much. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she gave his chin an airy kiss and rose to her feet.

  Quietly, she made her way down the stairs. They were going out for a drive, but first Mike had said he’d take her out for breakfast. Nevertheless, he would still like a cup of coffee before leaving the house, as did she, so she put on a pot.

  Recalling the events of the night before, she sighed. Gingerly, she reached under her robe, relieved to find that soreness from the spanking she’d received was mostly gone.