Spankmanship (continued)

13Mar13

spanked otkOur story began here.

Sylvia was on tenterhooks for a few days and fully, not to say nervously, expected a confrontation with Mary. She tried to tell herself that she was afraid at the prospect and perhaps she was, but her overwhelming emotion was something else. That first night after witnessing Mary’s punishment Sylvia had awoken with a start from some half-remembered but not altogether unwelcome dream in which she dimly relived the birching. Only this time it was her over the frame and her husband who held the birch.

However, apart from giving her some routine tasks, Mary said nothing about what she had witnessed, leaving Sylvia unsatisfied somehow. So Saturday came and finally Gerald came home.

Sylvia felt like a school girl as she leaned against the door leading to the front room. In her mind she had rehearsed the conversation, trying out various levels of nonchalance and bravado. But now he was here, her mouth was dry and everything she had planned to say seemed either contrived or down right lame.

She watched him hang his coat and pause to straighten his club tie in the small mirror that was pinned to the inside of the hall closet. He seemed taller somehow and rather than overweight, he appeared thicker set and more physically powerful. The iron grey streaks in his hair no longer made him look less the cuddly uncle-type who had made her laugh, but instead evoked a lion’s mane that complimented his steel blue eyes.

“Sylvia,” he said in a bright clear voice, “I hear you have been a naughty girl.”

She blushed and glanced nervously at the floor.

“I often thought to introduce you to another side of my life, but…” he shrugged and after regarding her for a moment turned to shut the closet door.

“I wish you had,” she said boldly.

Gerald looked back at her and studied her as if for the first time. He nodded as if coming to a decision, but the appraising gaze never left his face.

“This thing with Drake, Tatiana…” Sylvia licked her lips and added in a whisper, “and Mary Granger…?”

“Yes?” he turned to face her squarely and gave a little tug on his shirt sleeve so that it came level with his jacket cuff as he did so.

“I don’t understand it,” she sighed.

“I think you do.” His voice had an edge to it. “Or are you afraid?”

“Yes,” she replied tentatively and then with more force added, “And yes.”

“Do you object?” His voice was strange now; casual and yet sardonic, the words spoken in a tone that although akin to ‘could you pass the salt?’ actually hinted at a world hung in the balance ready to stand or fall at her answer.

“Do I object to what?” It was prevarication and evasion and she knew it.

He didn’t reply and waited for an answer to his first question.

A silent word danced on the tip of her tongue and she turned away. Retreating into the front room, she studied each familiar object there for an answer.

He followed her with a slow stride, a lion still stalking its prey.

“I want…” She didn’t know and fell silent again.

“Roll the dice, play the hand,” he urged, “Take a chance.”

“On you?” she sharply shot him a glance.

“I am my world,” he replied softly.

She nodded but repeated, “On you?”

He took another step as if he was about to pounce.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I think I already have taken a chance on you,” she smiled, “I think I did it when I married, I just didn’t know the rules then.”

“Then are you ready to learn them?”

She had opened a door on a new world she didn’t want to close. Now he was there as an offered guide. Her answer now was easy.

“Yes,” she said and then remembering something added, “Yes Sir.”

*

Dinner was a turning point for them both. Once Gerald had been installed at the head of the table the staff were transformed. Even Mary Granger took a humble stance and you would have thought that Sylvia had been lady of the manor her whole life.

“I am not used to this,” she whispered to Gerald. “I usually take my meal and sit in front of the TV. This is like a restaurant.”

“Perhaps you need to take a firmer hand with the staff,” Gerald replied with a twinkle in his eye.

Sylvia blushed and shot a glance at an imperious Mary overseeing the meal from the other end of the room.

“Mary responds well to a firm hand,” Gerald observed, “Don’t you Mary?”

“Yes Sir, very much so thank you,” Mary replied in a serious tone.

“Do you think my wife will ever learn to take charge here?” Gerald asked totally ignoring the presence of Tatiana and another girl.

Mary pursed her lips and seemed to appraise Sylvia for a moment.

“Gerald please,” Sylvia said shyly and after a quick look at the two maids, averted her eyes.

“Well Mary, what do you think?” Gerald asked again.

“No Sir,” Mary suggested.

“Do you agree Sylvia?” Gerald asked his wife in amusement.

“I suppose,” Sylvia said, her eyes fixed on her soup.

Gerald nodded thoughtfully as he took a sip of wine.

“I have to head back to London on Tuesday,” Gerald said as if he were changing the subject. Then he turned to Mary and continued, “After I have left and before you continue with my wife’s instruction, give her a good sound spanked bottom, somewhere not too discreet and put her in the corner for a while.”

Sylvia’s jaw dropped and she whirled on her husband as if to complain.

Before she could speak Mary answered him with a crisp, “Yes Sir.”

“Please Gerald you can’t,” Sylvia wailed.

Gerald put his wine down and looked at his wife with an expression approaching horrified disdain.

“I beg your pardon,” he said archly.

“You can’t just…” Sylvia blustered.

“I see,” Gerald sighed, “Mary, bring me a good stout clothes brush from the hall.”

“Certainly Sir,” Mary replied and turned as if on parade to do as she was told.

Sylvia followed the housekeeper’s departure with her eyes and then whirled around to confront her husband. “Gerald?” she gasped.

“I had intended… that is to say, I intend to have you bend over before bed and cane your bare bottom, but now I see you need something on account,” Gerald said as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Come here.”

“Gerald, please.” If blushing had carried a fatal risk then Sylvia would have died.

“Unless you wish to be very severely punished I suggest you obey me after first offering the correct response.”

Tatiana smirked and she and the other maid exchanged glances. Just as they did so Mary re-entered the room with the brush and both their eyes shot to the front.

Sylvia stared incredulously at her husband her head fizzing and a heavy pulse in her right ear.

“Come here,” Gerald barked at her.

Sylvia pulled the napkin from her lap and stood up. This was make or break she knew, but instead of arguing she mumbled, “Yes Sir.”

It seemed to take an age for her to cross the room; one foot elegantly placed directly in front of the other like a model on a catwalk. As she did so Gerald moved his chair away from the table and received the brush from Mary.

“Should we leave for a while Sir?” Mary asked him.

“No, I want you to stay,” Gerald replied.

Sylvia heaved a great sigh at this and suddenly wished the proverbial ground would open under her. As she did so she stopped until Gerald crooked a finder at her and indicated that she should walk around to stand on his right side. His wife balked at this and swallowed, but one look in his eyes told her not to even consider resistance, so she obeyed.

Taking her arm her tipped her easily over his lap and began to slide her black dress up her thighs to expose her bottom dressed in the briefest of briefs. Then these too were taken down and off her legs.

“I am going to teach you the rules, do you hear me?” he growled.

“Yes Sir,” she squeaked, mortified at the audience to her shame.

“Tell me Mary, is my wife a cry baby?” he asked his housekeeper.

“Comparatively so, yes Sir, but it is early days yet,” Mary suggested.

Gerald nodded and said something indistinct under his breath. He immediately followed this up with a sharp crack of the brush to Sylvia’s bare bottom.

“Yah,” she gasped, but undeterred he spanked her again.

The three women watching shifted a little where they stood and Tatiana moved her hands from behind her back and placed them neatly in front of her hips.

The spanking was slow, efficient and not to say, very, very thorough.

It was almost as if Gerald had waited all his life to spank Sylvia and he intended to make the most of it. Each spank drew a yelp or a pained groan and in very short order she was panting hard and struggling across his lap.

It took a while but Sylvia’s bottom was reduced to a full shiny purple red that neatly covered both her bare bottom cheeks like a coat of paint or smooth leather patches. By then of course her increasing distress had led her panting to break to sobs and to no one’s surprise she was crying like a naughty teen.

Not that Gerald showed any sign of stopping, his arm rose and fell with a slow reliable regularity, each spank extracting a further pained yell that soon left his wife bawling.

“I would spank you a while longer yet,” he said gruffly, “But you still have that cane I spoke of to come.”

“Yes Sir,” Sylvia wailed a sob.

“Alright,” he soothed lifting her face in his hand and kissing her forehead. “You can stand in the corner for me while I eat.”

“Yes Sir,” Sylvia said miserably, but she was acutely aware of being wet at both ends.

This was nothing like it was with Mary, she decided.

“You can eat yours cold off the mantle while I enjoy my cognac after,” Gerald told her, “And no pudding for you,” he scolded.

Sylvia nodded with all the appearance of miserable agreement, but there was a kind of wonder in her eyes as she hastened to the corner to face the wall.

Gerald watched her go and smiled and then after staring for a bit, he turned back to Mary and said, “Take the brakes off from now on, I think she needs a very firm hand, don’t you?”

“Should I…? I mean, what about Mr Drake?” Mary said lightly.

“No,” Gerald said hesitantly, “I don’t think she is ready for that yet.”

Standing as she was facing the wall, the sobbing Sylvia felt strangely disappointed at her husband’s ruling.

To be continued.



5 Responses to “Spankmanship (continued)”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian,
    poor Sylvia, Gerald certainly likes to jump into the deep end.
    Paul.

  2. 2 Kia

    No pudding?!?! The cane is one thing, but that’s just cruel.

  3. 3 Mark

    I like it. But I don’t understand why he hands over so much of the fun to Mr. Drake. He is there more often than Drake comes. What am I not getting?

  4. 4 Svetlana

    This is written from Sylvia’s perspective and she’s not completely getting it either. She does not know that much about Gerald’s motivations with respect to this other side of his life, but she knows she wants in. By keeping us guessing as well, the story makes it easy to share that uncertainty with her. I rather like the technique.

  5. 5 DJ

    Well the plot thickens. 😉

    Who is Drake? Why is Gerald so off hand? I wish I knew 😉

    I am glad that this is working.

    Thanks.

    The going without pudding seems to have been the most shocking for some ladies. Sorry about that. 😦


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