Throughout the following week, I tried almost constantly to convince Marrianne we no longer needed Doris’ services. I tried reason, demonstrations of a reformed character, assertion of my rights of authority as the husband, desperate and abject pleading. My wife met all of these with a calm, satisfied silence (although when I was most insistent, there was a distinct compression of the lips). Nothing specific, dear, but your attitude has been slipping of late, and it is best to nip these things in the bud. Besides, it has been almost a month, and a little reminder now and then is always a good idea.” Well, it’s tradition, and it might be fun. And besides, I know I have been getting a bit on your nerves lately. You could take this as an opportunity to set me straight… to provide a little motherly direction and discipline.” I stood in the corner for the next twenty minutes, although it seemed much longer, alternately quaking in apprehension and fighting down arousal. This scene came directly from my fantasy life. I was afraid reality would be more intense than fantasy, and I did not want to display the depth of my arousal by sporting a raging member to my wife when she (or Doris) told me to turn around. Somehow, I was certain they would not be in the least bit amused by such a display. She’s coming here? Tonight?” I blurted, taken by surprise at the pace this was developing. “I’ve never even met this person, and you are going to let her spank me? Shouldn’t we discuss this first? Give me a chance to get used to the idea? I mean, a complete stranger…”

Country report for UK". Global Initiative to End All Corporal Punishment of Children. June 2015. http://www.endcorporalpunishment.org/progress/country-reports/uk.htmlI’m not your mother, John, and that tradition played no part in my upbringing. For that matter, did your mother spank you when you were little?” I suddenly felt an urgent need to go to the bathroom which I did, then took a shower, taking special care to clean around my nether regions—that area I feared would be under very intense and personal inspection by a young woman whom I had yet to meet. I was anxious and somewhat aroused as the jets of hot water played over my body, but to be truthful, I was more anxious than aroused. Despite my years of imagining, I was never actually spanked. Of course, it would hurt. Spanking wouldn’t be punishment if it didn’t hurt, but would it hurt a lot? I’m not into pain. I’ve never deliberately hit my thumb with a hammer, for example, and on those occasions I did it by accident, I did not enjoy it in the least. Before your spanking, I suggested you apologize to your wife for making this necessary. Would you like to do that now, or should I resume your spanking until you’re ready?” Let me up. You can’t do this to me,” I protested. Doris then proceeded to demonstrate she could, in fact, do it to me, and she could do it with considerable effect, and do it for as long as she wished.

Each strike with that hard wood paddle left its own fire behind, and the flame was stoked and grew with each successive spank. I didn’t want to cry out; I didn’t want to struggle once Doris demonstrated the futility; most especially I did not want to cry in front of this woman or my wife, but Doris proved what I wanted had no bearing on what would happen.What I find intriguing is that Marriane never touches John’s bare behind herself (except presumably for erotic purposes), yet she has pretty much total control over how frequently and intensively it ends up being blistered by Doris. She can act calm and cool about any misbehavior on his part, yet have him reduced to blubbering tears with his naked buttcheeks blazing, in front of her, with a single phone call. Haines, Neither Rogues nor Fools. A History of Campbell College and Campbellians (Belfast, 2003), p.82.

Marrianne accompanied Doris to the door, and after a brief conversation, I heard her leave the house and drive away. When my wife returned to her sewing room, I turned from the corner and was gently trying to rub some distress from my battered bottom. I’m sorry, dear,” I said, “perhaps you should identify what it is you would like me to take on, and I’ll try to do a better job of it.”

Take off your robe, John,” Marrianne said, and stepped up to take it from me. My cheeks clenched involuntarily at the certainty they were under the scrutiny of the two women behind me.

A “little reminder.” If only it would be that simple; but Doris never did anything in a “little” way. Oh no, when Doris reminded you, it left an impression that would last for a good long time. Doris enjoys her work; she puts everything she has into it, and everything she has is more than enough for me… way more. Turning to me, and looking me straight in the eyes, Doris continued, “My name is Doris, but you may call me ma’am, as in ‘yes ma’am’ or ‘no ma’am’, as the situation dictates. Your wife has asked me to help her provide discipline in your life, which, by all reports from her and your sister-in-law, is sorely needed.”Several times during this ordeal, I pleaded with my wife to call a halt, to save me from this punishment. Marrianne continued to work on her blanket, and through my tear-clouded vision I saw no outward indication she was even aware of my presence. I think one of the dining room chairs should do,” Marrianne replied. “John, dear, go bring in one of our chairs for Doris.” Then of course there’s also the difference between what seems appealing as a fantasy, especially in terms of being spanked and embarrassed, as opposed to what the actual experience feels like. That’s why the “Be careful what you wish for” trope is quite common in consensual spanking stories, especially F/M ones. Marrianne was scraping the remnants of a good breakfast off the plates and into our garbage container when she made that comment. The tomato, bacon and cheese omelet I made for us turned into a cold lump in my stomach. I returned to the sewing room with the chair covering my flagpole, which I suppressed to below half-staff. Doris indicated where she wanted the chair placed, which was in the middle of the room facing the chair in which Marrianne sat when she was working. There was plenty of room since Marrianne’s quilting frame was folded and leaning against one of the walls, out of the way.