Lizzie Baines: a 1950s spanked wife (part thirteen)
The story begins here.
Things had gotten a little out of hand the previous night. Or should I say a little too many hands. Perhaps in more recent times, such things would barely pass comment, but in those days I had scarcely heard of such things. So suffice to say that the next morning I could not look Cindy in the eye.
That was not all I could not do. After suffering at Ma’s hands the day before, not one of us could sit for breakfast, not even Amelia, who had suffered previously.
The red bottoms may have been out of sight, but red faces were very much to be seen. After breakfast I took careful steps onto the porch where Cindy and Mary were already leaning against the rail.
“Oh.” I gasped clutching one of the uprights with a grimace. “I am not going to sit for a week.”
“Then count yourself lucky. I am not going to sit for a month at this rate.” Mary groaned.
“I have more cold cream in my room.” Cindy offered.
“No thank you.” I said curtly.
Mary looked at me sideways and gave me an old fashioned look. I blushed.
“You weren’t so reluctant last night.” Cindy smirked.
“Can’t we just drop it?” I sighed.
Mary was shaking her head; I have no idea how much she knew.
“Don’t think you are all going to skulk around here all day.” Ma scolded form the door.
For once I was relieved to have something to do.
Chores were painfully slow that day and all four of us were a little subdued. I helped Amelia put the washing out, but each bend and stretch was murder on my behind.
“I suppose I deserved what happened.” Amelia said with a pout, not sounding at all sorry.
“Sometimes I think Ma is nuts.” I grumbled as I massaged my rear end. “Are you sorry?”
“No.” Amelia giggled. “But I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“I can be such a brat sometimes.” Amelia said shyly.
“Yes.” I agreed.
“Its just because I’m the youngest.”
“No it’s not.” I said.
“No it’s not.” She giggled again.
“Have you seen your friends since?” I asked tentatively.
She shook her head and blushed to the roots of her hair.
“I’ll never live it down.” Amelia wailed. “There were boys, I know there were.”
“It must have happened before.” I suggested.
“Oh and some.” Amelia gushed.
“To your friends?”
“Not as bad… well there was that time that Rachel-Jane Parker was caught necking with a boy. Her father’s the sheriff you know. She got it bad, all up Main Street. She couldn’t sit down for a month.”
I exchanged a look with Amelia and she smiled.
“I suppose I’ll get over it.” She shrugged. Then added ruefully. “In about a year.”
Life got back to normal after that. Well as normal as it ever got. Then a few weeks later, just before Christmas I got the oddest feeling. I was standing on the porch and looking at the sky when it came over me.
There had been a strong cold breeze all morning and the trees had been screaming their hush until it seemed that it was the only sound in the world. Then the wind had dropped. I can’t say it was exactly silence that followed but I am hard put to say what it was.
They say dogs can hear a note that people just can’t. It was like that, a single note that I couldn’t quite hear, going on and on until it was fit to burst. It was sheer tension and air of tangible expectation.
Perhaps you think I am mad or I am remembering it wrong, but right at that moment, Cindy came onto the porch like she had felt it too. I remember we stood side by side looking up the road towards the turnpike.
First there was nothing there. Then there was. We saw two men approaching. They were walking and talking like they had known each other all their lives. Like they were home.
Cindy took a sharp breath beside me and I knew it too. Knew something like you do, but can’t bring it to mind.
“Clark.” Cindy sobbed and exploded off the porch like an old hound dog.
I didn’t dare look. Then I did. The men were still just two specks in the distance, but I would know George anywhere. Then I was at Cindy’s heels.
George had never gotten to Korea. He had been rerouted at Tokyo and reassigned stateside. At that time we didn’t know how long for, but I was just glad to see him.
The party lasted until dawn. Henry came over and somehow food arrived from all over. Cindy and Clark disappeared long before the party was over, but I sensed George wasn’t ready for some alone time. I knew I wasn’t. Not until I had confessed.
After everyone had gone George and I went for a walk by the jetty.
“It’s so good to be back home.” George sighed. “Even better to be here with you.”
“George I have something to tell you.” I took a deep breath.
“Ma wrote me.” He grinned.
I blushed and looked away. Of course she did, I wanted the ground to open up.
“You’re a spirited one, but I knew you would fit in. How is the rear end by the way?”
“Oh George…” I hugged into him. “There is something else.”
“I know about the travelling salesman and you running away.” He reassured me. “And don’t think I won’t spank you. But there is plenty of time for that.”
“You most certainly will not.” I pulled away.
He gave me a stern but indulgent look. I remembered Mary-Lou and her spanking at Henry’s hands.
“George.” I said in exasperation. “OK so you are going to spank me. I guess that’s what happens around here. I guess I might even deserve it. But I have something to tell you.”
I had finally gotten his attention.
“George I… Cindy and I… Well its kinda odd…”
“Cindy? Cindy been up to her old tricks?” George’s voice had an edge to it.
“We got a switching from Ma… she was nice about it. I was missing you and… George?”
George looked as if his face was about to crack. Then it did.
“George.” I wailed.
“I am so gonna spank you.” He laughed. “Between Cindy and Amelia its wonder that Ma hasn’t ever caught on that switching don’t work on some gals.”
“You know?” Know I was blushing. Down to me toes.
“I can guess.” He said ruefully.
“George it’s not natural, I mean I shouldn’t…”
George upended me right there on the jetty and deposited me across his lap as he sat on a jetty post. I felt the breeze on my legs as he raised my skirt and then a decided chill on my bottom as my panties were slid to my knees.
“George you put me down this minute.”
His hand landed squarely across my bottom and I yelped.
“George.” I squealed.
He spanked me again.
“Please not out here someone will see.” I was frantic.
“I don’t care if they do Lizzie Baines.” He chuckled.
And then the spanking began in earnest. His hand was as hard as a plank, but its affect was more like an army of bees. I marvelled at his stamina, at least at first, as his hand must have pounded my bottom at three beats a second for several minutes. By the time he was done, I was ‘hollering like liquored up squaw’ as Ma might say.
“George.” I sobbed as he took me into his arms. “I love you.”
“I know.” He shushed me and held me tight.
“Let’s go to bed.”
“You ain’t had a proper licking yet.” He murmured.
I pulled back from him and stared at him full in the face to see if he was joking. My bottom was still throbbing from the spanking, only Ma’s switch was worse. I certainly didn’t want more.
“Ma has just been keeping your bottom warm for me. You wait until I teach you whose boss.” George said with more passion than I ever suspected could be in the world.
I wanted to protest and refuse his right. I wanted beg for mercy, if I was honest. Instead, I said, “please George not tonight.”
“Alright.” He smiled. Then added with real iron. “But I am on leave until New Year. Your gonna taste my belt twice weekly until I get gone.”
“Yes George.” I breathed.
“Unless of course you misbehave. Then you’ll get more.”
I had never loved him more.
Filed under: DJB stories, spanking stories | 4 Comments
Tags: 1950s, adult daughters, can't sit down, marital spanking, mother-in-law, OTK, sisters, spanking, spanking adult daughters
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Spanking, spanking stories and spanking articles for adults
This blog is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented here are intended for adults. Nothing here should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
All characters appearing in short stories on this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This blog aims to explore themes of erotic discipline, female submission and spanking. It features stories, anecdotes and observations by DJB and others.
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What a great photo to illustrate this story. So all this time Lizzie has been “in training” for her role as a submissive wife. Seems she’s learned her lessons rather well.
I do love it when lovers are reunited, happy, happy, happy.
I think the wife in the picture should not be spanked. She is showing an interest in her husband’s job by dressing in camoflage (as long as she is sitting on that sofa.)
Will we hear what happens with George and Lizzie next? I think we rather need to know.
husband knows how to spank girl in picture but i think he should secure her legs she is going to be kicking and jumping!!! teach her control and obedience!!!