The Errant Bride

by Dinah McLeod

  “What’s the holdup?” Ethan asked, swatting my behind.

  It didn’t hurt, but I picked up the pace, and in mere moments I was standing in front of the bedroom. The door had been left open, and I could see our unmade bed, the sheets twisted and hanging half off the bed. I didn’t remember what time I’d come to bed last night. I couldn’t even remember sleeping beside him. I missed the nights we used to go to bed together and I would fall asleep with him holding me close. I always slept so much better snuggled in his arms.

  “Sara, you’re not making this any easier.”

  “I’m scared,” I admitted.

  “Of what? Me?”

  I shook my head. “That’s not it. It’s just…this whole spanking business.”

  “Now, Sara, we’ve been over this and we can talk some more afterward but I meant what I said. You are going to be punished.” His voice was firm and authoritative. I felt the familiar tingle I got whenever he used that tone that told me that he was in charge.

  “It’s not that. I mean, I’m not trying to get out of it. I just…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m wondering…things have felt so different between us lately. It started when we—when you changed things. And I’m just wondering, I don’t really like the way things have been going, but what if doing this again makes it worse?”

  “Frankly, I don’t see how that could be possible.”

  “I know. I just worry—”

  “Look, baby, I love you. You know that, don’t you?” Ethan walked in front of me and took my hand.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “OK. Then you need to trust that I’m doing what’s best for you, and for us. Can you do that?”

  I looked into his baby blue eyes and I felt myself melt. Of course I trusted him. I trusted him with my life, so why not my bottom? “Yes, sir.”

  He smiled at me. “I’m glad to hear that. Complete trust means that there may be times when I ask you to do things you don’t like, or that you don’t understand. That’s when I need you to do them because you believe I have your best interests at heart. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, feeling the beginnings of butterflies in my stomach. I knew what he was asking me to do. He wanted me to accept my punishment without complaining, or arguing. Even if I did come up with some last ditch effort to save my behind, he was asking me not to use it.

  “Are you ready, baby?”

  I felt a lump form in my throat. “I guess so.”

  “Good girl.” He kissed the top of my forehead and reached around to pat me gently on the behind. His touch was soft, but I winced knowing that in just a little while such a caress would be quite painful. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  Steeling myself against the urge to plead for mercy, I walked into the room and stood in front of the bed. I turned to him, feeling helpless. I was not sure what to do next.

  “Could you make the bed for me, please?”

  “What?”

  Ethan smiled at my surprised expression. “The bed, honey. In the future, I want the bed made when you get up in the morning, OK?”

  “Um, sure. OK.”

  “Thank you. I’d like you to make it now, please.”

  I furrowed my brow. I was not sure what the significance of this was. Why didn’t he just get it over with already? But I knew better than to question him right now, so I dutifully made the bed. It felt a bit silly considering what was coming, made even more so because he watched me do it, but in a few minutes the job was done and I stood back to wait my next order.

  “Sit down, please.”

  I didn’t hesitate to obey. I almost expected him to sit beside me, but he came to stand in front of me instead. I didn’t like the stern expression he was wearing as he stared down at me.

  “You know why we’re doing this, but just to be sure, I’m going to recap for you. You were driving very irresponsibly. You were speeding; you ran a stop sign and were intoxicated. Is that everything?”

  “That’s not exactly...” I trailed off when I realized he had clenched his jaw and had crossed his arms over his chest. Not good signs. “Those are the offenses listed against me,” I responded in a near whisper.

  “I’m sorry? Did you say something?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied louder.

  “OK. Did I miss anything? Were you wearing your seatbelt?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, thank God for that. We’ve already talked about you’re not going to be driving for a while.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How long do you feel is fair?”

  I cocked my head to the side, eyeing him uncertainly. He’d never asked my opinion before, so I wasn’t sure what kind of response he was expecting. “Um…”

  “For three very serious offenses,” he prompted.

  “Three days? Sir?”

  Ethan arched an eyebrow. “Really? I was thinking more along the lines of two months.”

  I gasped. “What?” I winced inwardly as I realized how bratty I sounded. This was not going well. I think I preferred it when he just spanked me. I got myself into more trouble when he talked to me beforehand.

  “That doesn’t sound fair to you?”

  “I, um, it’s just, two months is a long time, Ethan.”

  “True, but it would be an even longer time if you’d injured yourself, or God forbid, someone else. You have got to learn to pay attention no matter what else is going on. I’m not sure how to teach you that except for making you realize that driving is a privilege. Maybe once you miss being able to go wherever you want to you’ll be willing to be more cautious when you get behind the wheel.”

  My mind was reeling. I had no idea what kind of response to give. Two months? He couldn’t be serious. I’d been driving ever since it was legal to do so—I’ve never had to ask for a ride since. “I think a week is fair,” I said finally.

  Ethan was staring at me, looking pensive again, and I thought I could literally see the wheels turning. “OK.”

  “OK?” I echoed, holding my breath as I waited for his answer.

  “I want you to write me a letter, telling me why I should only take your keys for one week. If you can convince me, then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “I have to write an essay?” I groaned.

  “Well, I said a letter, but you can make it an essay, if you like. Be sure to use Times New Roman, and no double-spacing, young lady,” he said, mock stern with a shadow of a smile on his lips.

  “I thought you were just going to spank me!” I exclaimed.

  “Oh, we’re definitely going to be doing that. But I think this issue is a little more serious, and your punishment should reflect that.”

  I thought of reminding him that I was too old to be punished, but those arguments had never really worked out the way I’d wanted them to in the past, and besides, I knew he was right. “Anything else?” I asked, more subdued.

  “No, baby. I think that about covers it.” He leaned over and grabbed me in a quick hug. He squeezed tightly, but in no time at all he let go again and said the words I’d been dreading. “It’s time for your spanking now, honey.”

  Chapter 9

  Ethan

  I had to admit that I was impressed with the way Sara was handling herself. She’d made the bed without complaint, and hadn’t lost her temper once during all the talk about being grounded from her car. I’d expected her to have a big blowup about it, but she had surprised me. I knew it wasn’t something she was used to, but she had taken it in stride. She had argued for a lesser sentence, but what repentant little girl wouldn’t? I was interested to see what she’d have to say in her letter.

  With a heavy heart, I directed her to turn around and bend over the bed. Her long honey brown hair hung over her face like a curtain. She turned her head and stared back at me with wide, fearful brown eyes. I knew this was all a surprise to her. She was used to me taking her over my knee, but this spanking was going to be far more serious.
I wanted to reach over and comfort her, to reassure her that I loved her more than anything, but I didn’t want to delay it any longer. The time for comforting would come later.

  The jeans she was wearing fit snugly over her shapely behind. I moved my hands around her waist to unbutton them. I could feel her tense up, and she moaned as I unzipped them and slid them down her hips. She was wearing her sheer panties with little flowers on them. I’d given them to her for her birthday a few weeks ago, and she knew I loved it when she wore them. Unfortunately, neither one of us was going to be enjoying them tonight. Putting my thumbs in the waistband, I slid those down, too.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, and I couldn’t fail to note that her voice had already taken on a pleading tone.

  “I’m getting you ready for your spanking, honey.”

  “But, Ethan! You always spank me with my panties on first.”

  “Not this time, honey. I’m afraid this warm up is going to be on the bare.”

  She whimpered, and the sound tore at my heart. She was being so good. Maybe this once…but no. That kind of thinking was what got me into this mess in the first place. If I didn’t follow through with what I told her, it would hurt our relationship. I had to nip this in the bud now.

  “I’m right here,” I whispered. “Are you ready?”

  “OK,” she said, and the word was laced with the apprehension. I could tell she was feeling scared right now—she was even shaking a little.

  I raised my hand high in the air and brought it down with a hearty smack on her behind. Her buttock was flattened with the impact, and I could already see the imprint of my hand. Sara gasped and then, a few seconds later, let out a shriek. “Scream into the pillow if you need to, honey.”

  Sniffling, she wrapped her arms tighter around the pillow and buried her face into it. Taking this as my cue, I brought my arm back again and delivered another sound wallop to her other cheek. I spaced them out every five seconds, giving her time to really feel each swat. I was putting more of my strength into these swats than I had with any other spanking, and I could tell by her body language that she was feeling the difference. I was very impressed with how well she was taking it. She hadn’t protested once, or tried to block me.

  While I might admire her stoicism, I knew this was not the time for leniency. My heart hurt every time she made those muffled, shrieking cries, but I knew that once I’d decided to spank her, I needed to do it well so that she would remember what happened when she stepped over the line. In fact, I intended for her to remember this spanking every time she sat down the next few days. With that in mind, I gave her ten more solid spanks. When I was finished I stepped back and admired my handiwork. Her bottom had turned a bright shade of pink.

  Sara was crying into her pillow, and hadn’t even seemed to notice that I’d stopped swatting her sore behind.

  “OK, baby,” I said gently. “I need you to go to the corner now.”

  Without even so much as a groan, she stood up and walked to the corner, her back to me. I sat on the bed and dealt with my thoughts. I really was disappointed in her actions, but this loving, sweet, submissive girl in front of me…I was blown away with the changes I was seeing. Having her like this took me back to the first time I ever met her and reminded me why I fell in love.

  I left her standing in the corner for a full five minutes. I knew she hated having to be there with me watching her. It added to her punishment, but there was another reason, too. Giving her a break let her calm down for a bit and kept her bottom from getting numb without really allowing the pain to fade. On the contrary, I could tell she was feeling every bit of the warm-up I’d given her.

  Still watching her, I began to unbuckle my belt. I could see her tense when she heard the whoosh it made when I drew it out of the loops, and she whirled around. When she saw me holding it, her eyes widened.

  “Oh no, Ethan, please,” she began to beg.

  “Turn around, Sara.”

  “Baby, you can’t—”

  “Turn around,” I replied sternly. When she still didn’t obey, her eyes glued to the instrument in my hand, I walked toward her and, taking her shoulders, gently turned her back toward the corner. “Now you stay there until I tell you that you can move, understand?” Without waiting for a reply, I delivered several sharp smacks to the backs of her thighs.

  “Yes, sir!” she called out. I gave each thigh two more smacks before I was satisfied.

  “I want you to think about why I’m punishing you,” I said, and while I definitely hoped she would think about what actions had brought us to this point, I also needed a few more minutes to get myself together. I had never thought I would bring tears to the eyes of this precious woman on purpose, and I had to steel myself, knowing that she would cry, knowing that she would be in pain. It was moments like these when I hated what we do, when I, like Sara wished we didn’t do “this spanking business” as she’d called it. When I wished that we were like any normal married couple. That was why I had tried going back to “normal” but that didn’t work for us.

  “OK, babe,” I said, keeping my voice firm. “You can come out now. I want you to bend back over the bed.”

  Sara was giving me the most pitiful expression I’d ever seen as she trudged over to the bed. With one last mournful glance, her silent plea for mercy, she bent over the bed. In just a few seconds she was going to be thankful for the warm up I’d given her.

  Sending up a silent prayer for steady hands, I brought the belt whistling down across both of her buttocks. Sara promptly burst into tears, her tears becoming sobs as I gave her stroke after stroke. I was counting them out in my head, and keeping my eye on the angry shade of red her bottom was becoming. Still, I gave her another four.

  I was about to stop when she threw herself down onto the bed during the last stroke. The tip of the belt fell lower than I’d intended, and she screamed as the tip hit her on the leg.

  “Bend back over the bed,” I ordered sharply.

  “My leg—”

  “Think about that next time,” I snapped. Of course I felt badly, but I couldn’t let her decide when the spanking was over. When she bent back over the bed I quickly gave her two more strokes to end her first whipping. Then I took her in my arms, cradled her, and let her cry into my shoulder. We were both glad it was over.

  She was crying unintelligibly as I caressed her hair, murmuring reassurances. It took over ten minutes for her to stop crying. In all that time, the color of her bottom had not faded at all. “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling.

  “For?” I asked expectantly.

  “For not paying attention when I was driving.”

  “And?”

  “For being such a brat about you spanking me. I guess, um, I guess it works for us.”

  I smiled at her. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  “The truth is, the reason I got so bratty is because, well…I guess I needed you to spank me. I mean, it’s not that I like it, but sometimes I need it, anyway. I know that sounds stupid.” She ducked her head and hid her face in my shirt, which was slightly damp with tears.

  “Shh, of course not, baby. It’s not stupid. I understand.”

  “You do?” she asked, peeking up at me.

  “I think I do. I’m not an expert at this, Sara, but I think it keeps us connected. That’s worth it to me, so I’m going to stick with it this time. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  “You could never let me down, Ethan. Not really. You always pull through.” She curled into me and we lay like that for several long minutes. I couldn’t help but feel relieved that this part of her punishment was over. I hoped I didn’t have to spank her again for a long, long time. Of course, knowing Sara it would probably happen sooner than either of us would like.

  Chapter 10

  Sara

  Other than having to ride with Ethan to get to work, life went back to normal for us. It was better than normal, actually. We felt close again, we laughed more and spent more time together, like
we used to. I’d had to decline several invitations from my friend Mona. Finally, though, I felt like I couldn’t put her off any longer, so I invited her to dinner—after I’d gotten Ethan’s permission, of course.

  When she arrived, she practically marched into the house. I didn’t know what she was looking for, but I was sure it wasn’t good. She seemed all business tonight, her curly, dark red hair pulled away from her face, her green eyes narrowed as she assessed my husband. Her face was screwed up as if she was meeting the devil himself. I tried to remember everything I’d said to her about Ethan, about our marriage, but it was pointless. There had been too many conversations full of half-truths for me to be able to remember them all. It didn’t help that alcohol had been involved in nearly every one.

  “Hi, there, Mona. Welcome to our home,” Ethan said, walking toward her and giving her a hug.

  Mona pulled back, and immediately rubbed at her arm where he touched her. “Thank you,” she replied stiffly.

  Ethan gave me a quizzical look, and all I could do was shake my head. I knew I was going to regret every word I’d ever said to the woman before dinner was over.

  Ethan was outside with the grill, which gave Mona plenty of time to quiz me. Of course, she hadn’t heard from me since I vowed to leave my husband, so she was dying to know why I had changed my mind. With my face flaming, I told her every sordid detail—minus the part about the spanking, of course.

  “So your dad really wouldn’t let you move back home?” she hissed in a whisper.

  “No. He said that I chose to be married, and that I needed to turn to my husband to figure things out. Which is what I should have done in the first place,” I admitted sheepishly.

  “If you say so,” she said, looking doubtful. “I’m pretty sure my dad would let me move back home, if I needed to.”