Sally's Journey: ... into domestic discipline

by Susan Thomas

  Sally's Journey

  … into domestic discipline

  by

  Susan Thomas

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © February 2016 by Susan Thomas

  Published by LSF Publications

  http://www.lsfpublications.com/

  Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. It includes adult spanking and some sexual scenes. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events are purely coincidental.

  Following a tragic accident which left her parents and brother dead, Sally leaves her high-flying job in New York to offer help and support to her bereaved sister-in-law Anne and her children. During the six months she stays with Anne's family, Sally re-evaluates her life and finds it lacking. Six months later she returns to New York and attends a fundamentalist church where she chances upon a note pinned to the notice board. A widower with a young daughter seeks a wife. She reads that the man placing the ad lives in a small rural community which abides by domestic discipline principles. Intrigued, she does some research into the community and learns that in each household the man is the leader and his wife accepts his right to bestow corrective discipline when needed.

  Following an exchange of emails, Sally travels to the small town of Wheelton to meet Sam Alden. He does not disappoint, and as the two get to know each other, they discuss the domestic discipline lifestyle. Although it is all completely new to Sally, she begins to understand the thinking behind it, and accepts Sam's offer of marriage. Now that Sally is a happily married housewife and mother, her life is radically different. She makes mistakes along the way - which inevitably lead to her new husband disciplining her. This is the story of how she deals with her new life, falls in love with her husband, and learns how to be obedient and willingly submit to Sam's authority and discipline. It is a rewarding lifestyle...

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Also by Susan Thomas...

  Chapter 1

  I had stayed the night in a small but very attractive motel. Now it was morning and time to complete the last stage of my journey. I stood in the fresh, clean air of morning, admiring the surprisingly pretty grounds. The small town of Wheelton was close to the railway and the main highway but my destination was deeper into the surrounding rolling farmland. I stood still... almost reluctant to move. It would be so very easy to get in my car and go back the way I had come, to walk away before I got in too deep. The moment of hesitation passed; I had come so far I might just as well go the rest of the way. Once I got there it wouldn't be too late to back out. If it really freaked me... if he really freaked me, then I would leave. I began the last stage of my journey.

  It was a journey that had, in a sense, begun a year earlier. I worked in finance in New York. I'd been sent by my British bank to the New York office and had simply changed jobs. I worked at a heady level where my decisions could make millions for my employers or lose them even more. It was a cocaine and alcohol-fuelled existence and I was good. My bonuses were eye watering to those in more sedate employment but I sensed I could not go on long. Deep within me I despised what I was doing but I couldn't think what else to do. What was the point of life if not to pursue success in every way and acquire the trappings that went with it? Then my sister-in-law called me.

  She was nigh on incomprehensible, babbling, crying and screaming. Eventually a calm male voice took over from her. It was simple enough: my parents, my brother and his wife and two small children were on holiday at a beach resort popular with Europeans although it was not in Europe. A small group of men came to the beach and simply opened up with automatic weapons firing randomly at the holiday makers. Old or young, male or female, it made no difference; all were cut down if they were in the path of the bullets. My sister-in-law was not on the beach. She had taken the children (two and three years old) for an ice cream but my parents and brother were dead.

  I took leave of absence and the first available plane out. Anne, poor thing, was distraught and incapable of anything. I took over the children and managed everything with the help of the British consulate. The bodies were repatriated and we flew home to my parents' house. Anne could not face her own home without my brother. Again, I did everything, for Anne by now was in a sort of tranquillised dream. The funeral had huge attendance with the media as intrusive as usual in these situations. When they ask you how you feel they don't want an answer for they will report it as 'devastated' whatever you say.

  There was much to do of course - Wills to be found, probate sought and houses put up for sale. Throughout Anne was incapable of anything. I resigned my post in New York for I could see this was going to be a long job. My employers were very good... kind and supportive; but if I wasn't coming back soon then I thought it best to go. Anne's parents were going to sell their business and she could move in with them and have their support but it would take time. So it was I became mother to two small children, a nurse to Anne, and managed everything else on top. I was not short of money. Apart from my own I inherited half my parents' estate. In all I was six months with Anne and the children and in that time I re-evaluated my life and found it wanting. What is success in life? That is the question I could not answer but getting richer and better known wasn't it.

  When at last Anne's parents were ready to take over they invited me to come too. I could be sucked into their large family with ease but I declined. Parting from the children was hard, but they were so young they'd soon forget me, and I had my own life to rebuild. I went back to New York. That was part of my physical journey.

  Once there I had no idea what to do. I ran each day, went to the gym and swam; becoming very fit in the process. I began attending churches; seeking something I suppose but never quite finding it. Finally, one Sunday I attended a sort of simple fundamentalist church. The congregation was the most mixed in race and age of any I found. I was welcomed but no one really bothered me. After the service, coffee in hand, I stood looking at a notice board. Only one notice caught my attention.

  Widower Seeks a Wife.

  I am thirty-eight years old, fit and solvent. I have a three-year-old daughter who does not remember her mother. I am part of a small community in a rural area. The community abides by moderate, domestic discipline or Christian domestic discipline principles.

  There was also an email address but nothing else. That advert caught my attention and filled my mind as had nothing else. I had an idea what domestic discipline and its Christian counterpart meant but an hour's research told me more. It was interesting how many articles and video blogs there were denouncing all types of domestic discipline but particularly the Christian variety. 'Weird' and 'abusive' were two frequently used words. None of them seemed to consider the simple fact that the women had made a free choice. In Victorian times women were expected to follow a certain path in life; if they didn't they met the disapproval of society, but how was that any different now? If women were still only free to follow a path approved by society, then they were not really free.

  I suppose the whole thing should have scared me off immediately. Surely anyone with sense would have been? Perhaps I had no sense, but when you've lost your family as I had, and re-evaluated your life and found it wanting, nothing seems off limits. I wrote an email
and got a quick response. It said very little: Thank you for your enquiry. If you wish to know more, please use this one-time password to access the link below.

  I used the password and found a website about the community. There was a video with a conducted tour. It was indeed a rural area. It seemed the community owned a very large valley sheltered by hills. It was all perfectly normal. There were farms, much of the produce from them going to high-quality jams, jellies, pickles and preserves which were sold far and wide. There was a workshop making furniture from reclaimed wood, and another workshop making smaller wooden articles, with another making a wide variety of fancy leather goods. Some members worked outside but however they earned a living all contributed to community funds. It was well set up. There were solar panels, wind turbines and an independent Internet connection. A small medical centre run by a pair of married doctors was used by other people not in the community. A dentist and a veterinary surgeon also served a wider community. All that was quite normal... it was the domestic discipline aspect that was different.

  Every couple living there had to be in a domestic discipline relationship or its Christian cousin. The man was the leader in his home and his wife (or partner) had to accept his right to 'correct' her if it was necessary. Other than the correction was always moderate it did not say what was involved. My research told me that in some DD relationships it could be quite extreme; correction really meant physical correction and mainly meant what most people call corporal punishment. However, there was also mouth soaping (a real danger for me since when working I had learnt to swear constantly), corner time and other physical punishments such as unpleasant jobs.

  The video included an interview with the widower who had placed the advert. He was tall and strong looking but was an accountant with a practice that went beyond the community. His eyes looked mild but his jaw told me he'd not be a wimp. He had his little girl with him but she was clearly a bit younger than three in the video. She was being shy and he had that air of amused exasperation parents get when their small child is playing up like that. However, I could see by the way he held her and looked at her, that he was a gentle and loving father. I decided to apply to be his wife. Please don't ask me why. I have no real idea.

  I sent a long email outlining my history in brief and why I was changing my life entirely. I sent a collection of photographs including just one of me on a beach in a bikini. Next I outlined my thin portfolio of hobbies. In truth that was pretty well zero as I'd never had time for them but I made a lot of the swimming and running. To finish, I explained how I had the care of my two- and three-year-old nephew and niece for six months. None of the motherly things had fazed me. I had potty trained one and toilet trained the other without any tears or problems. I also tagged on a question asking whether his was the simple domestic discipline type or its Christian counterpart.

  He wrote back saying he would like to meet me with a view to marriage. He was, he explained, not especially religious and his headship was pure and simple domestic discipline. He offered money for the journey but I declined. I had plenty and it would keep me independent until the last. I had no car (bad idea in New York) so I flew to the nearest airport and then hired a car. That was how I came to be standing outside my motel room having a last minute attack of nerves.

  The attack of nerves grew as I drove towards my destination. What on earth was I doing? Corporal correction indeed? I had no kinky desire to have my bottom walloped. In spite of that I drove on and arrived at the only way into the valley. They had made sure that every visitor either had to come across country hurdling the hills or come along this one road. They had dug deep ditches on either side of the road to ensure you couldn't drive around. There was a gate and it was manned. I later found at night there was a security system that allowed the gate to be opened remotely. The guard on duty was neither armed nor unfriendly. I was expected and he wished me a good visit and opened the gates. Much later I found this was not because the community wished to be exclusive but simply to provide peace of mind for residents.

  The road led straight to the physical heart of the small community. There was a sort of square and there was my possible husband waiting for me. I pulled up and got out.

  "Are you Sally Anderton?"

  "I am, and you are Sam Alden."

  We both stood unsure how to proceed. He was tall, much taller than my five feet four inches, but with a lean and rangy look that somehow suggested strength. He had curly chestnut hair and soft green eyes but with a strong jaw and a look that told me that although he was not quick tempered, he was not to be messed with.

  Our looks would complement each other. I wear my hair long (usually in a French plait) but it too is a rich brown and inclined to be wavy. My eyes are green-brown, a shade my mother used to call hazel, and I too am not someone you want to mess with, although I am slow to anger.

  "Welcome Sally," he said when we had finished staring at each other. "Thank you for coming such a long way to meet with me. I've arranged for you to stay the night with another couple so that will give you longer to get to know us. Lily is in play school at the moment so shall we go get a coffee and talk?"

  The community had a small café that also served the visitors using its various services. I later learned it didn't really make a profit but was run as a community service. I'd been too nervous for breakfast but now I was here I accepted a pastry to go with my coffee.

  He opened up with a sort of joke. "If you do agree to become my wife at least you won't have to change your initials."

  I was nervous so it took a second. "Oh you mean SA. I'd not noticed, and Alden is shorter than Anderton... less to sign."

  Such stupid things to say to each other but I guessed he was as nervous as I. He was about to say something but I got in first. "So, what sort of husband will you be?"

  He smiled. It was a gentle smile with nothing unpleasant about it. It told me he had worked out what I was worried about and nervousness had made me blurt it out.

  "I would be, as I was, a loving husband who would always put my wife's needs first. I would be caring, protective and considerate. I would work to make sure I was the best man I could be for you and that you were the best woman you could be. To make that happen I might well have to correct you but you can be sure that would always be in your interests and not mine. Although I would not shirk from correcting you it would always be proportionate and moderate. Correction here in our community is always about just that... correction. It is never about domination. It will make you sore but never injure. Not ever will you will you be injured."

  It is such a hard thing for a woman to accept? To submit in that way and accept that your man has the right to punish or correct? I had been an equal but this would make me a subordinate. I put that to him.

  "No partnership is ever equal. In a partnership there is always striving for leadership, and either one of them wins, or the partnership must break and something else replace it. We see marriages out there in the world where both parties strive to have their way. It tears them apart in the end. Our vision is that we accept the leadership of the male to begin with. Leaders must have the authority to assert their leadership if there is disobedience or error. However, that is not dictatorship. I would always seek your opinion before making a decision. I might, or might not, accept your view, but once a decision is made I would expect you to abide by it."

  It was a lot to chew over but I liked him. Yes, really I did. There was a calm strength about him that I liked but I was still bothered about this correction issue. It's OK for the man to say it's moderate but he isn't the one getting it.

  "How would you correct me? That is assuming I do marry you."

  He smiled. "You know your anxiety about that is very reassuring. There are a few women who like being hurt. Possibly they need to be hurt. I could never marry such a woman. I always think carefully about correction. It is a huge responsibility. The first question is always whether it is necessary. Sometimes a quiet word is enough. If correc
tion is needed, then what? Perhaps corner time will do on its own. A spell of reflection in a corner can work wonders for calming a situation down. If some sort of spanking is needed, then what should it be? The hand is a much underestimated instrument of correction. Some men rush to find something to spank with but their hand used on a bare bottom is very effective."

  I felt myself go very red when he said that. I just couldn't help it. The heat rose up my face and he noticed... straight away, he noticed my discomfort. He put his hand on mine.

  "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Shall I stop?"

  "No, please don't. I'm not normally so maiden-like. It's all a bit... I guess it's so very different."

  "OK, if you're sure, but stop me if it is too much. I'll get this out of the way. I always chastise on the bare bottom. It not only allows me to monitor the effect so I don't go too far but it means I don't have to do it so hard. I also sometimes use corner time with the bottom bared ready for correction. That was very effective with Julie and nipped many a bad habit in the bud. The old-fashioned hairbrush is very effective for more serious matters, but it bruises a lot if used vigorously, and so must be used sparingly. A light strap is often a good one to use. We tend not to use switches, canes or birches in this community. They are quite severe but very occasionally there is a need. If I correct you, and I do use some form of spanking, then for a minor matter you can expect your bottom will smart for a good couple of hours afterwards. For something more serious you might well find sitting uncomfortable for several days. There are so many possibilities it is hard to be certain."

  I felt my face hot throughout this explanation. I know many of you will be wondering just why I didn't get up and leave but something inside me was telling me this was the right place for me to be. "Thank you for that explanation. We can't either of us agree though, can we? There is Lily to think about. She may not want me as her mum."