The Errant Bride

by Dinah McLeod

  “I really am sorry,” I said to them both, smiling shyly. Normally, I had to swallow quite a bit of pride to say those words, but after what I’d just endured, I don’t have any left.

  Mom came around and joined us on the bed, being careful not to make the mattress shift when she sat down. She leaned toward me, and soon the three of us are hugging.

  “Now, as for your brother,” my father began

  “Dad!” I cut him off with a squeal. “He was being totally mean to me!” There is a warning look in his eyes, so I modified my tone before continuing. “I don’t like it when he makes fun of my weight. Sir.”

  He studied my face carefully before nodding. “You’re so beautiful, I always forget how sensitive you are. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Come on, Sara, better get in the shower!” Mom urged. “We have a wedding to get ready for.”

  I bounded off the bed with renewed energy. “Give me ten minutes. And then…I was thinking we could grab some coffee and a muffin before going to our hair appointments.”

  Her smile was immediate and ear-splitting. I didn’t think I’d seen her so happy since the wedding planning began, and I felt another pang as I realizes how thoughtless I’d been.

  “That sounds great, honey.”

  My mom had known what she was talking about—I didn’t get a chance to sit down that night—and I didn’t really force the issue. Our wedding was a whirlwind, and it couldn’t have gone better.

  I blushed when my father saw me in my floor length-wedding gown for the first time. It was a beautiful dress, decorated with intricate lace and seed pearls. Seeing him reminded me of the fact that he’d seen me in just a t-shirt earlier, but if he was having the same thought he didn’t show it. He’d taken my arm in his and even though he didn’t say anything, I could read everything he wanted to say in his eyes. In that moment it felt like our bond was renewed in a way it hadn’t been in years—I truly was Daddy’s little girl, and I knew that would never change.

  My new husband, Ethan, seemed to lose his breath when he saw me. When I was beside him and my dad kissed me goodbye, Ethan touched my face gently, trailing a finger along my cheek, seeming in awe of me. “Beautiful,” he mouthed.

  I had tears in my eyes when I whispered, “I Do,” but they were the good kind this time.

  Before I knew it our reception was over. We had said our goodbyes, and ran to the car amid fond farewells and a shower of rose petals. It was at the hotel, as I shyly undressed for my groom that I remembered my sore bottom. Ethan had been horrified when he saw the marks the brush had left.

  “I am going to call him first thing in the morning—hell, I’m going to call him right now!” He fumed.

  “Please, don’t, baby,” I begged. “It’s over now and—”

  “Sara, he hurt you!”

  “It does hurt,” I admitted. “But…I deserved it.”

  He eyed me skeptically, but finally nodded. “Alright. But he better never do that again. You’re mine now.”

  I shivered at his words, and he grabbed me in a gentle, protective hug.

  “That’s not ever going to happen to you again, Sara,” he murmured, his voice husky in my ear.

  I took deep breaths, breathing in the smell of him: pine, and all spice.

  “Since you’re um…in pain…”

  I looked up at him, wondering where he was going with this.

  “Well, I just thought, ah…would you rather be on top?”

  We just started at each for a long moment before both bursting into laughter.

  He promised me, I thought bitterly as I came out of memories of happier times. He told me I didn’t have to worry about that stuff anymore. He said he’d never hurt me.

  Even as the thoughts occurred to me I was aware that my accusations were—at least a bit—unfair. I pushed that nagging thought away, though, because I didn’t want to be won over by reason. I was determined to stay mad. It was the only thing that would save me from feeling scared, hurt and miserable because my husband had just called to tell me that he was going to spank me when he got home.

  Chapter 2

  Ethan and I had been married for three months. Every day I rushed home so that I could be waiting at the door when he walked in. The sight of him, with his muscular arms, broad shoulders, and thick black hair still made my tummy do flip-flops. And when he smiled at me with his perfect, white teeth, his baby blue eyes smiled with him, and my insides quivered, humming to some secret song that only existed when we’re together.

  Of course, like all married couples, we’ve had our ups and downs. Things had been a bit rocky since our fairy-tale wedding, but that was just life, right? I thought we were happy. I mean, most of the time.

  Sure, he’d been upset about money lately. And yes, he’d mentioned once or twice that he would like the house to be cleaner. We’d gotten into an argument about it a few hours ago, but I didn’t think it was anything special. These weren’t real problems, just things married couples argued about. I’d thought he left to calm down and clear his head, but the next thing I knew he’d called me and told me to be waiting in the bedroom for him when he got home.

  “And I want you wearing your pajamas,” he’d said.

  I felt my heart skip a beat, even if I was puzzled by his determined tone. “Oh. Sure, whatever you say, Ethan.”

  “Yes, I think that’s exactly what you’ll to be saying when we’re through.”

  I crinkled my brow. “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, perplexed.

  “It means that you haven’t been listening to me, and that’s going to change. It has to change, and it’s going to start tonight.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “I know, baby, but you will.”

  “Please,” I’d begged. “I feel so lost. Can you just—”

  “When I come home, you’re going to be waiting for me in the bedroom. And I’m going to spank you.”

  “What?” I gasped, feeling my face flush.

  “There’s nothing more to say about it, honey. We can do plenty of talking when I get there.”

  “But, Ethan—”

  “You’re not going to talk me out of this, Sara, so I suggest you don’t waste too much of your time.”

  I drew my breath in sharply. I wasn’t used to hearing Ethan like this, so commanding and in control. Part of me felt excited—his take-charge tone was so darn sexy, but if it meant he was going to spank me, then I wasn’t sure I liked it very much after all.

  “I want you to get off the phone now, and go in to the bedroom like I told you,” he’d directed. “We’ll talk when I get there.”

  I had set the phone down gently, staring at the receiver for several long moments in confusion. What had just happened? Where had my sweet, caring husband gone? Who was this stranger that had taken his place?

  For a few minutes I’d considered ignoring him. It felt so childish to go and sit on the bed, waiting like a little girl for her daddy. What could he really do, anyway? I was a grown woman, after all. I had never felt so bewildered, but in the end I decided it would be better to do what he wanted. When he came home and saw that I was really trying he would calm down, surely. He just wanted to know that I was listening to him, and once he saw that I was he would give up this silly idea. I would promise to do better, and everything would be OK between us again.

  So that’s where I was, in my pajamas—his favorite ones, with all the lace. I figured it couldn’t hurt—dutifully sitting on the bed as I chewed nervously on my lip. My eyes were glued to the clock. No matter how many times I tried to look away and focus on something else, they keep being drawn back. What had gotten into him? I wondered for the hundredth time. What had I done that was so wrong? And how could I not have known I’d done it?

  Twenty-seven minutes had passed since I’d hung up with Ethan. The anticipation as I waited to see him has my moods yo-yoing: I wanted to see him, and spend time with him, of course, but I was also anxious
about what was going to happen when he got home. I knew I was on edge; my nerves felt so very fragile. Every little sound made me jump.

  Finally, I heard the click of the door and I could hear his key turning in the lock. My heart jumped into my throat and stayed lodged there, no matter how hard I swallowed.

  He didn’t come to see me right away. He made me wait and I squirmed with each passing moment, feeling like I was sitting on pins and needles. I could hear him moving around and pictured him in my minds’ eye, going about his normal after-work routine. I knew he’d set down his briefcase before he headed into the kitchen. I could hear him opening cabinets, first, and then the fridge.

  Part of me wanted to march outside and demand that he come see me. I’d done everything he’d told me to, after all, and I had been waiting patiently—well, I’d been waiting, anyway. And it had been long enough, darn it! The other part of me rebelled at such a plan. I wouldn’t poke an irritated bear with a stick, would I? So it probably wasn’t in my best interests to go to him shouting demands right now when he’s already upset with me.

  Finally, I heard his footsteps outside the bedroom door. I inhaled sharply, trying to prepare myself, and ended up in a coughing fit.

  “You OK, baby?” Ethan was looking at me with concern, and I wanted to collapse in relief. It was he, and he was being his normal, loving self. No one had stolen his body. He was here, and he loved me. I could see it in his eyes. I knew he wouldn’t ever hurt me.

  I swallowed hard. “Yes, honey. I’m OK.”

  He grinned at me wryly, but just as quickly the grin dissipated and was replaced by a thoughtful expression.

  Uh-oh. Suddenly, my throat felt dry again.

  “Thank you for waiting up here like I asked.”

  “Of course, Ethan. I would do anything for you.”

  “Would you?” His tone isn’t accusatory, but curious.

  “Of course! You know that,” I insisted.

  “See, that’s the thing, Sara— I don’t think I do. It feels like every time I ask you to do anything around here I just get excuses or you get mad.”

  “I do not—”

  “See, there you go. You’re not even willing to hear me out.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, flushing.

  He sat down on the bed beside me and took my hand. “I just don’t know what to do, honey. I love you, and I want us to work.”

  “We’re not working?” I asked, and he reached over and stroked my hair in an attempt to soften my mortified expression.

  “I want to do more than just ‘work’. I want a good marriage, honey.”

  “I thought we were happy…”

  “I’m not unhappy, exactly,” he allowed. “But you’re just not listening to me anymore. If I ask you to do something, you always tell me later. But then you don’t do it. The apartment is starting to look sloppy, and you haven’t made dinner but one night this week,” he scolded. “You know we’re trying to save money for a house. Eating out is expensive, and making meals is one thing we agreed you’d be responsible for.”

  I wanted to snap back a retort, but I held my tongue. I knew he had a point. I mean, he knew how to cook, too, and I would be more than happy to point that out if he hadn’t been doing his fair share. He’d been taking extra shifts at work while I only worked part-time, and he had told me before that he was happy to do it as long as I kept the house neat and had dinner on the table when he came home. And lately I hadn’t been doing either. I couldn’t say with honesty that his requests were unreasonable.

  “And another thing,” he continued, “I’ve noticed that you are spending money lately and not writing it down in the checkbook. There have been a few close calls this month, and if I hadn’t caught it in time the checking account would have been overdrawn. If that happens, it will cost us a lot of money in overdraft fees, and we’ll be just that much farther behind.”

  I was hanging my head, my pride stinging at his rebuke. “I will do better, honey. I promise.”

  He sighed, long and heavy, and I glanced up at him to see that he was looking at me with determination in his eyes, his jaw clenched. “I want to believe you, I really do. But I’m afraid your actions speak for themselves, and I can’t just go by your word anymore.”

  “But I mean it!” I insisted. I immediately cringed at the whiney tone that came out of my mouth.

  “I’m sure you do mean it…now. But I think you need a lesson to ensure that you remember tomorrow, when you’d rather surf the Internet than cook dinner.”

  “I wasn’t surfing the internet,” I huffed. “I was playing poker, and I was on a winning streak!”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. It was a good thing, because seeing him laugh at me at this point would probably have made me lose it.

  “It’s time for your spanking now, honey.”

  I glared at him, but internally war was raging. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I argue some more, and insist that he cannot spank me? Should I just give in to avoid a fight?

  “Now,” he said, and the authority in his voice made it crystal clear that he meant business. Without further debate, I nodded, and he patted his leg. What? Was I supposed to put myself over his knee? That seemed beyond childish. In fact, this whole scenario—

  Ethan took my arm and gently guided me over his lap. Then he lifted his knee so that my lower half was pushed closer toward him. Without any further discussion, he began whaling away at my bottom. He didn’t give time for the pain from the individual spanks to build, or give me any time to get used to them. From the get-go, he was spanking my sit-spots, again and again.

  It only took about ten for me to begin protesting, and another dozen before tears were dripping from my face. Unfortunately, the spanking continued much longer than that. Long before its conclusion, I had moved my hand to my butt in an attempt to block the blows. He responded by pinning my arm tightly to my back. I tried my legs, next, curling them up in an effort to stop him and end the onslaught of pain to my rear. I was rewarded for my trouble by having my legs trapped underneath his, which rendered me quite unable to move.

  Each spank sent a tremor of pain through my butt and brought fresh tears to my eyes. Still, no matter how loudly I cried out or how much I begged, Ethan didn’t stop. Since he had deflected all of my attempts to escape punishment all I could do was lay there and take it. It occurred to me suddenly that I had no say in this—he could spank me as hard as he wanted to, for as long as his hand can hold out. There was nothing I can do about it.

  Suddenly, the spanking stopped. The fire in my backside did not, however. In fact, with each passing second the pain seemed to spread and grow until every bit of my bottom and the backs of my thighs was screaming for relief.

  “Please go to the corner,” Ethan commanded, his voice soft.

  “What?” I asked, still sobbing.

  “I want you to go stand in the corner and think about why I had to spank you, honey.”

  I was itching to make a smart retort, but the throbbing in my behind made me hold my tongue. Instead, I pushed myself up off his lap and walked to the corner, sniffling all the way. I was unsure about what to do. My parents had never made me stand in the corner, and it seemed silly to me because I didn’t understand the point of it.

  As I stood there, continuing to sniffle while I wiped the tears off my cheeks, my bottom continued to provide a painful remainder of our “conversation”. The pain somehow seemed worse now that he was finished, and I found myself unsure how I was going to endure it. Idly, I wondered how long it would last. I reached my hand back to rub some of the sting out of my rear, but Ethan cleared his throat from behind me.

  “I don’t think so, young lady. Keep your hands by your sides.”

  “What is it going to hurt? I’m dying over here, Ethan!”

  “You seem fine to me,” he retorted. “And if you want to know what it’s going to hurt, go ahead and rub. But I promise you it will sting a lot more before I’m finished wit
h you.”

  I dropped my hand at his warning, but inside I was seething. Who did he think he was? He was my husband, not my father! What right did he have to treat me like this?

  It was all I could do to stand silently in the corner. Not only was I in pain, but I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to cry, I want him to comfort me, I never wanted to see him again… all the emotions combine and overwhelm me.

  Just knowing he was behind me, looking at my bottom and imagining the red hue he’d given it made me nervous. I knew he was watching me— I knew I couldn’t get away with anything. At the same time, I felt incredibly sad. I’d never been in the same room with him and felt so far away.

  What had I done to make things come to this? Wasn’t he happy with me anymore? Didn’t he still love me?

  The thoughts kept circling in my head, and I couldn’t seem to come to a clear conclusion on any of them. I felt completely miserable, all I wanted was to run and hide and have a good, long cry but he still hadn’t given me permission to leave the corner.

  Finally, after my feelings had cooled and then warmed toward him again and again in a vicious cycle, Ethan quietly called my name. I walked over to the bed with the intention of sitting next to him, but when I was standing in front of him he put out a hand to stop me. Without a word, he put a hand on either side of my pajamas and with a tug he slipped them down my legs. I cringed slightly as they slid down over my swollen bottom.

  I managed to stay silent during this unwelcome unveiling, but I couldn’t help but gasp when I feel his thumbs in the band of my panties. “Ethan, what is it?”

  “I want to admire my handiwork.” Even though his words were playful, his face and tone were clearly not brooking argument. I didn’t even protest when he pulled me over his lap again.

  “In the future, Sara, when I decide you need a spanking you will not fight me. You will not try to block me with your hands, you will not try to squirm away.”

  In the future? I had barely even begun to process those words before his hand delivered a dozen steady, hard smacks to the backs of my thighs. “Ethan!” I squealed in protest. “Please stop! Please!”