A Midsummer's Nightmare

 

The redhead's green eyes flashed and her nostrils flared as she was about to offer a testy protest when she caught her husband's reproving glance.

"You'd better not, my dear," George Adams warned against her fretful snit.

Her face suddenly softened, her eyes looking as though she was about to cry. "But you know how I don't like these social gatherings. And this is a whole month!"

"It's summer, Patricia. The island is lovely. The Montgomerys are terrific people, and if you'll just relax a bit, you'll have a wonderful time." He gestured broadly with a wave of his hand.

"But without you ..." she stammered. "I'll feel like a third wheel."

"I assure you, you will not. Vicky Montgomery is one of the most hospitable people that I know. She'll never let you feel out of place."

Patricia eyed her husband for some moments, seeing his resolute expression not change.

"I wish I had your confidence," she said, still feeling the agony of George's unexpected announcement make her rigid with fear. She looked like a wilting flower, so utterly despondent. "George, I can't. I want to stay here this summer, and I'll go with you when your business is finished," she tried persuading him.

"You will not," the handsome blond-haired George replied, immovable in his decision. "And I'm not going to hear another word about it, or I'll get the hairbrush and paddle your behind."

She was afraid of that. As much as she sometimes loved her sessions over George's lap, she was sure this one would be particularly nasty. She could tell by the look in his eyes, challenging her to defy him further. His mood was particularly stern this day. While part of her almost wished he'd just go ahead and spank her, the other side of her dreaded the prospect of feeling her bottom burn like the dickens.

Such had always been her dilemma. She was a woman who courted punishment while at the same time fearing it with trembling knees and a pounding heart. She'd met her husband at a spanking house-party three years before. Then, George had been instrumental in her decision to leave her ruthless husband, Victor. Much more gentle and nurturing of her than her ex-husband, George was well suited to her soft nature. And yet her desire for spanking was very much a part of their marriage, both romantically, and as a means to occasionally "correct her attitude"-as George liked to put it. Fifteen years her senior, like Victor, he had a certain command of her just by his age. Perhaps she had a need for fatherly guidance. Whatever the reason however, there would always be a submissively inclined woman and a dominant man in her marriage bed.

Though George liked the role he played, at times he got frustrated with her incurable shyness. That was obviously the dilemma facing her this day seeing how angry he was. His rugged but often mild-mannered face looked painfully exasperated.

"You're going to put a smile on your pretty face and get out of your gloom," he told her, "or am I going to have to give you some inspiration?"

He looked at her so sternly she was almost frightened. There was little of the warmth she normally associated with her good-natured husband. Hesitating a little too long, George answered the question for himself.

"I think you'd better go get the hairbrush, or better yet the spanking paddle."

"Oh, no please," she suddenly whimpered. "I'll go. I will. I'll enjoy myself." She was backtracking fast but her belated efforts seemed to have little effect on her husband.

"No, it's been some time since I've given you a good going over. Go get the paddle."

"George please!" she moaned.

"Go now, Patricia. You're only adding fuel to the fire by waiting."

She could see that. His anger made her shudder and then scamper to the broom closet in the kitchen to retrieve the old school paddle that hung just inside the door. Returning to the bedroom, George was already seated on the bed, waiting for her to appear.

"You want me naked?" she asked meekly.

"No, I don't think so."

That said a lot. When he really meant business, he spanked her for nothing but punishment. There would be no sex involved and no nudity to encourage an erotic conclusion, just the paddle connecting with her behind.

"Hand me the paddle," he said reaching out for it. "Now over my lap."

She was fidgeting nervously, but she knew better than to make him wait when he was in such a mood. Submissively falling into his grasp, she lay over his sturdy knees, awaiting the worst.

This being strictly business, George was quick to pull up Patricia's skirt and lower her panties. Her two gleaming pink/white mounds were a flawless canvas for what would follow. With an arm around her waist and a leg over her legs, he held her firmly in place. Then picking up the four-inch wide paddle,he began smacking her hard right from the start.

"Ouch! Ow! No!" she whimpered right off.

"You've gotten a little too ornery, my love," he said, as he delivered the painful smacks of the wood. "I think you'll be little more compliant after this is over."

Saying little else, George let her have it. The paddle stuck hard, the blows centered on the two well-padded cheeks. Unfortunately, as fierce as he was striking her flesh, no padding in the world would keep those bouncing orbs from burning mightily. Turning from an initial pink to an angry-looking crimson, he kept up the spanking until Patricia was howling like a child and wrenching so hard against his grasp that he was having trouble containing her. Pausing he spoke again.

"So, you'll go to the Montgomerys and enjoy yourself?" he asked. He punctuated the comment with another strike of the wood.

"Yes, yes, I will," she replied immediately.

"And there will be no more whining?" he asked. He smacked her again.

"No, no sir!" she agreed with him.

"And you're not going to mope around here, and try to get me to change my mind?" He spanked her hard six times so she couldn't reply right away.

"No, no. I promise!" she shouted out as soon as he stopped.

"Okay, then. No more of this nonsense. I expect a well-behaved, good-natured wife when I join you in August." He let the paddle rest on the bed beside him and lifted his wife into his arms. This unexpected affection warmed her heart as much as her bottom was feeling the warmth of the paddling. "And just for good measure, I'll let Derek Montgomery take charge of your deportment."

"Oh, no. You wouldn't," Patricia cried, backing away from his surrounding arms.

"Oh, yes I would," he declared, as he kept her close to his chest.

"You'd really let another man spank me?" she asked looking sheepish.

"I can trust Derek to use proper discretion, and I think it might just be the threat you need to keep your spirits up and a smile on that pretty face." He kissed her nose and then her lips, letting Patricia almost believe they'd end up having sex. But a moment later, he pushed her to her feet, and stood himself. "Now, you might want to start packing. I'm going to take you to the island tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she was aghast.

"That was what I was trying to tell you when you started to whine at me."

"But what happened to next week?" she asked.

"The business meetings in Texas were pushed ahead. I really have no choice, and neither do you."

She sighed, trying not to look dour. She wasn't about to endure another punishment, even if this one was not as bad as she thought it would be. Maybe with George, it was never "as bad" as she thought it would be. As reprimanding as he could be, he never punished her the way Victor had. That ruthless mistake of a marriage was half the reason she was always so reluctant to be with people. Her first husband controlled her so completely that she was still learning to stretch her wings and enjoy her life.