Lizzie Baines: a 1950s spanked wife (part three)

Kitchen corner time is usual at the Baines household

Kitchen corner time is usual at the Baines household

Our story continues. Part four may take a while to edit, look out for it later this week. If you missed parts one and two the story starts here.

I had a lot to think about over the coming weeks. Among other things, I got a letter from George. It didn’t tell me much about what he was doing but it was full of plans for the future. It was clear that he intended our future to be in Louisiana. He talked about becoming a lawyer like his father, but said that it might mean living Vicksburg, like that would be a bad thing.

I missed George terribly and the bright sunny Fall days seemed to mock me as one day merged with the next and September turned into October. The war seemed so far away and the local newspaper was more concerned with the harvest than the Chinese. That only served to make George further out of my reach.

As it turned out, that October was going to be a turning point in my life, by the time that November came around my world view and days of self-absorption were going to be challenged.

I had written a letter to George pouring out all my fears and hoped that he could be a lawyer in New York. I think without saying so I made it clear that I did not care for Vicksburg, except as an improvement on the farm.

So when another letter came my joy soon turned to frustration as I found I couldn’t think of a thing to tell him. The problem was that I had so much to tell him, but I could not put it into words. For one thing, I could not write about getting a spanking from Ma. Back in New York I would have been certain he would have taken my side, but now I wasn’t so sure. And besides it was too embarrassing to think about let alone write in a letter.

After sitting at the family table one afternoon trying to write, I finally threw down my pen in frustration. Ma scolded me for it and told me it was no way to behave.

“A child would have more patience and besides you owe George a letter, think what it must mean to him.” She told me.

I went for a walk to clear my head but the unreality of the Louisiana countryside just made things harder thinking about my husband. When I returned Ma scolded me again about being out so long when there were things to do.

I reacted badly, I know I was sullen as I noisily and grudgingly carried out the little tasks that Ma had set me to help her prepare dinner.

Even at dinner, with us all round the table it was no better. The girls were keen to hear of news of their brother but every reference to George just irritated me more.

“Settle down Lizzie, after dinner the girls can do the dishes and you can sit down a write your letter.” Ma said kindly.

I exploded. I hurled my fork into my plate and stormed out of the room.

“You write the damn letter.” I hurled back blinking tears.

I sat on my bed crying for 10 minutes before I had calmed down enough to realise that I should apologise. Then there was a knock at the door. It was Ma she didn’t wait to be invited in.

“Now you listen to me young lady. You think you are the only one to miss George. I am his mother, what do you think it is like for me, not hearing from him for weeks, not seeing him? He could be dead for all I know.” Ma was as angry as I had seen her. “And the next time you throw a tantrum and use language like that I’ll cut whole parcel of switches and leave wheals on your bare bottom like worms, right out there on the porch for everyone to see.”

Then it happened again. I was upended and bared across her knee in a moment. The ensuing spanking would probably have been recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records if it had happened today.

At first, I was horrified because the bedroom door was open, but within a minute of that hairbrush’s assault on my bare hinie I had other things to worry about.

All the clichés about fires and hornets were true that night, they must have heard me all the way to Vicksburg.

At one point, long after the spanking had been well underway, I heard Ma telling me to get on with my chores, but that made no sense since I wasn’t going anywhere soon if she had her way. Then in my pain addled mind I realised that she had been talking to the girls who were standing in the hallway watching the whole thing.

For a short while, my acute humiliation overwhelmed the pain. But Ma’s vigorous attentions soon refocused my misery back to my bottom. I am not sure when she was finally done, I remember being held tightly into her lap heaving with great hiccoughing sobs and crying for all I was worth. Then slowly I realised that it was over. As I came to myself I saw I had an upside down view of three smirking faces framed by the doorway. I would have wailed all the more in my shame had I not already been bawling at full tilt. Much later on, Mary told me with much mockery that my face was the same colour as my bottom and it was hard to tell which end was which.

“I have a good mind to send Mary for a switch.” Ma said, as I was let up still sobbing, not any less angry than before.

“I’ll go.” Amelia offered enthusiastically.

“We’ll see.” Ma replied hauling me from the room still half naked.

I was led by the ear back downstairs and directed to the corner. My anger at this new humiliation was almost enough to cause me to rebel, but then I saw Amelia’s grin and remembered the threat of the switch.

Standing bare bottomed and freshly spanked with my nose in the corner was already enough to make this the worst day of my life. But it was about to get worse.

It must have taken me nearly an hour to pull myself together and completely stop crying. Hearing the ordinary sounds in the room as people moved about all around me was the strangest thing. It made me fell insignificant and the unwelcome centre of attention all at the same time.

I think Ma waited until I had got as used to the situation as I was going to when she hauled me out and back to the table. On it stood a bowl of warm water and a bar of soap.

“I will not tolerate such language in this house.” Ma said, dunking the bar into the bowl.

What followed was as embarrassing as it was unpleasant. She held me by the ear and pushed the wet bar of soap into my mouth then pumped it in and out for a minute or two. Then she left it in and ordered me to hold it with my teeth. Then I was led back to the corner.

“If you spit it out, then I will cut that switch.” Ma growled.

Amelia squealed with delight. “Aren’t you gonna make her eat it Ma?”

Mary hushed her.

Standing in the corner choking on soap and breathing with difficulty made me want to sneeze. It also took the corner time to whole new level. After what seemed like forever, Ma finally came over and let me remove the soap and place it in the bowl. She even let me rinse my mouth before returning me to the corner.

I thought the worst was finally over when there was a knock at the front door. I wanted to flee.

“Henry.” Ma said warmly in surprise and I knew that behind me she was hugging her oldest son.

“Oh my, has someone been a naughty girl?” He chuckled.

“Been teaching her some manners and sharing my views on cursing.” Ma replied tersely.

The tears coursed down my face as I stood with a very red bare bottom turned to the room in full view of a man I hardly knew. I wanted to die. Apparently, Henry had decided that this night of all nights was the right time to discuss the Halloween family barbecue.

He stayed about half an hour while I stood glowering to the wall, far worse curses than anything Ma had ever heard running through my head. Even after he left, I was still to remain in the corner for the rest of the evening to learn my place.

As I was finally sent to bed Mary said:

“You got off easy with the soap, but it was bad luck about Henry, but he’s seen worse.”

“I’ll never be able to look anyone in the eye again.” I wailed.

“Its not that bad really.” She soothed.

I didn’t believe her. I lay all night on my bed, face down of course. I didn’t dare look at my behind. I didn’t want to be distracted by the ambiguous feelings that came with the fascination of looking. I seemed to be developing a strange interest in punished hinies lately. I didn’t want to catch whatever disease Amelia had.

It was finished for me with the Baines now, I firmly believed that then. I might have gotten over it if Henry hadn’t turned up, but now it would be the topic of conversation on the porch when the men drank their beer. Older versions of Amelia would giggle and gossip at my expense over coffee or sodas. I cried myself to sleep.

I awoke just before dawn. The spanking had been worse than the last one and I moved awkwardly as I got dressed. I didn’t have much to pack and I was soon creeping out of the house.

I had a left a short note telling Ma I would write from New York so she could pass on my address to George. It took me 20 minutes to reach the road. As the sun rose there were a few trucks even on this back road and I soon got a ride.

It was difficult for me getting into the cab, wincing as I was, with a curious redneck driver studying me like I was some kind of rare insect. The next two hours to the nearest rail stop was even harder on my behind. The redneck kept looking sideways at me and I was sure he knew the reason for the awkward way I sat, or didn’t. Most of the way I held myself up letting my arms take the weight.

It was a two-hour wait at the small country station. There was a Coke-Cola machine and a ladies room that smelled. I sat outside with one leg under my thigh so as to lift my bottom clear of the hard bench.

I had never been so miserable in my life. At home they would be making breakfast and Amelia would be smirking at the memory of last night’s spectacle. I bet Henry’s visit was adding some spice to the story this morning. I think I smiled at the image.

I had no idea where I was going. I had no real friends in New York. With the war on I doubted that an apartment would be easy to find. What if I had to go back to Boston? I wouldn’t be welcome there either.

The train finally arrived. It took forever to come to a full stop. Somewhere a conductor called out the name of the station. I don’t even remember now what it was called. The carriage windows formed a harsh row of accusing eyes. I craned my neck searching for a friendly face among the passengers. I had a fantasy that George would get off here on an unexpected leave and I could run into his arms. Of course it didn’t happen and I started to cry.

The train pulled out as I watched it go. I could get the next one perhaps. Once it has finally moved out of the way I looked up. Ma was standing on the opposite platform.

“Aren’t you a bit old to be running away from home?” She called over.

I ran down the platform to the crossing point and flew into her arms and cried my heart out. She was crying too.

“My heart was in my mouth the whole hour I sat and watched you waiting for the train.” She said. “I hoped and prayed you wouldn’t get on.”

We walked back across the track to collect my bag and then went to find her car. I had to kneel up on the back seat all the way home and as embarrassing as it was I didn’t mind.

When we finally got home and we were getting out of the car she said:

“Come Saturday I’ll take you out and show how to cut your first switch, like my grandma first showed me. You’re a mite big for it but its better late than never.”

I stopped and stared at her wide-eyed in disbelief.

“You didn’t really think your hind-end was getting off scot-free after that little stunt did you?”

“I suppose.” I replied meekly wanting to protest, but strangely resigned.

“Couldn’t we just? Upstairs I mean?” I pleaded.

“I don’t think so Lizzie Baines. You just used up the last of your city girl privileges. Its time to join the family.”

To be continued.

2 Responses to “Lizzie Baines: a 1950s spanked wife (part three)”

  1. 1 Karl Friedrich Gauss

    Wow, I get the feeling this could become a book. Looking forward to four and five! Thanks.

  2. Been reading each part with anticipation. You’ve captured the conflict and defiance within every true submissive. The need to be chastised and loved at the same time.


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