Chapter 8: Marian Gets Spanked

I wasn’t even embarrassed to say that. I meant it from the very bottom of my soul. At first I didn’t think Herbert had heard me - after all I was kind of blubbering and he had been trying to apologize too.

When I repeated myself he finally acknowledged that he’d heard me but assured me that literally punishing me would never be a serious option for him.

He really didn’t understand that it wouldn’t be for him but for ME! I had to beg my own husband to please take me over his knee and tan my bare bottom.

I’m not going to blame the multiple drinks I’d consumed while trying to deal with the party. I knew I was a little lightheaded but I was still in almost full control of my faculties.

Maybe I wouldn’t have been so adamant at the time that it was what I needed, if my inhibitions hadn’t been compromised by the alcohol, but I knew good and well that I had to convince Herbert it was the right thing to do.

Even now I’m proud of myself for begging for it. At the time it was the only thing on my mind, like a scratched record in my head - I could not get past wanting to prove to Herbert how bad I felt and that I needed him to punish me in the most humiliating way he could.

I mean that I just knew I’d die of shame for my actions at the party and on the ride home if I wasn’t properly punished like the spoiled brat I’d somehow become over the years.

I just knew I’d never again be able to set foot outside our home if he refused to physically set me straight like my own father had done once when I was about nine years old.

That punishment had changed my life. I’d never ever forgotten it and now a repeat of that punishment was years overdue. This time it would not be just for purposefully breaking one of grandma’s heirloom serving platters but for living as a self righteous shrew for however many years it’d been.

In my mind it was the only solution to ensure I’d forever think twice before being the awful person I’d once again tonight proven myself to be.

I wanted to atone so badly that I told him it was his duty to take me inside and spank me as hard as he could for as long as he could. The look on his face reflected his incredulity at what I had begun to demand.

I told him if he really was a good Christian and not just a fake who knew a few selected bible verses, that it was his duty to march me inside, put me over his knee, draw my panties down and spank the sin right out of me.

Herbert began trying to console me but by this point I was inconsolable. I even got a little angry at him, still clutching onto him for dear life. I accused him of not being a Godly man willing to do what a real man would do without hesitation.

Then I went too far, or maybe it was just far enough. I blubbered to Herbert that if he couldn’t be the man he should be, that maybe he should return me to Steve’s mansion so anyone still there could spank my bottom for him.

That request to Herbert was worse than the behavior I’d displayed to make a spanking something he’d indirectly threatened with no intention to perform.

He told me in no uncertain terms that I was a married woman and he would not let me flaunt my naked bottom in front of a bunch of horny men and that next I’d be begging to perform sex acts on anyone willing.

He said that if I was to be spanked, it’d be by him and by him alone and it’d be something I’d never ever want to repeat.

He also told me I was not a slut despite how much I was acting like one. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him!

Herbert didn’t stop there. I clung to him for dear life as he carried me to the hood of our car and set me down, facing the windshield. He then ordered me to hug the hood.

I did as I was told, really scared all of a sudden but sure Herbert was being the man I’d accused him of not being. The fire in his eyes was something I had not seen in years and it was terrifying and I admit, arousing, at the same time.

As if he’d done it a hundred times in the past, he lifted my ball gown’s skirts and petticoats, attempting to hike them up high enough to expose my panties.

I neglected to mention that Herbert always backs his car into the double garage. At first I barely registered that the garage door was still open. Anyone passing by our driveway would have seen him attempting to expose my bottom!

Herbert seemed to not care about that. I’d angered him so much that he’d become a man on a mission. When he was unsuccessful at getting my panty-clad bottom to stay exposed, he roughly forced my ball gown, petticoats and slip higher and higher, right up to my armpits. Only then did I begin to appreciate that we were outside our house within full view of our neighbors.

Herbert was going to make good on my begged request right in the open garage! Without a word of apology or concern for my feelings, he yanked down my underwear and kicked my legs apart.

This was a side of Herbert I’d never seen before. He was being so cruel and uninterested in my modesty. He exposed my bottom to the night air and before I was ready, he’d slapped the snot out of one cheek then the other.

This was not a man afraid to lay hands on another person nor was it a man who immediately regretted his decision. For me, I was too shocked to register the first slap past the noise it had made.

The second, however, made its impression known even as I began to feel the first. But he didn’t stop at two. I howled in displeasure that he’d hit me so hard and told him he’d smacked me far too strenuously. The reality was that I’d wanted Herbert to spank me so that I could feel it and know I was being corrected, but not so hard I wouldn’t be able to sit down afterwards! It had only been two spanks and I was already feeling like my bottom was literally on fire.

I certainly didn’t remember my father ever causing me that much pain on my nine year old bottom and he certainly hadn’t done it outside, either.

What had been blubbering before turned into shrieks of pain and my honest attempts to avoid more of the same. I thought Herbert didn’t care and was going to spank my bottom until it was no longer round. He kept going and going for quite some time.

I didn’t count the spanks. All I know is that there were a lot of them and that the whole thing made me feel like I was going temporarily insane.

Insane enough that my privates became wet as if I were enjoying what was happening. Insane enough that I started bargaining with Herbert, telling him if he stopped right away I’d do something I’d never done before.

I’d eagerly put my mouth on his penis or gratefully offer him my rear as if his penis was a butt plug. Both were sexual acts so sinful that they’d caused our first ever disagreement on our honeymoon.

Worse was the fact that I was screaming out these offers in the open garage where our quiet neighbors would certainly hear and I didn’t care. I wanted the pain to stop and I wanted my husband to replace his hand with his penis. I could care less at that point how he used me as long as he did.

I promised him I’d be his slave if that’s what he wanted. I’d crawl around inside the house like Spot did if that pleased him. I’d wear any outfit he chose for me, no matter how degrading or slutty. Anything at all to stop the terrible spanking I was barely enduring.

What’s almost funny to me now is that all this happened while the only way I was restrained was with Herbert’s single hand on the small of my back while he used the other to beat me.

I think I blacked out for a moment because when I came to again Herbert had his penis in me and was ... well not to find a point on it for any righteous readers, he was fucking my pussy!

I can’t sugarcoat it. He wasn’t making love to me. He was punishing me with his penis, not caring that he was probably bruising my cervix or something and what’s more, I had an orgasm soon after regaining my wits.

My first ever actual orgasm. I’m admitting it publicly because I now understand that there’s such an unfair taboo about openly discussing sex. I’ve now learned that even God’s children were designed to have sexual relations and it’s not a sin as my parents had taught me.

If I’d been asked to recount this story even six months ago, I would have glossed over the sex part with phrases like, ‘I did my wifely duty’. It wasn’t like that though. I want everyone to understand that. I had no say in what Herbert was doing to me with his manhood - his cock. And I am proud to admit that he fucked me. It’s so liberating to admit that I was fucked by my husband!

I had never before felt something so incredible! God had gifted me something that night that was the most intense gift I’d ever received. My husband had driven me past insanity to pure hedonism and all I wanted was more of it!

I wont say my feelings about Spot’s friends miraculously changed overnight. One simply doesn’t start valuing another’s character differently because it’s the right thing to do. If that were the case, the world would be a different place.

It WAS different for me, though. I awoke the next morning; we both had slept naked for the first time ever. I was snuggled into Herbert and I felt his manhood against my thigh.

At first I was appalled at myself, my actions, my behavior of the previous night and I wanted to crawl silently out of bed and wrap myself up in layer upon layer of protective clothing before Herbert was aware of how far he’d made me fall.

The things I’d said came back to me one after another. I’d had thoughts I thought a Christian woman would or should never ever have and I had voiced many of them despite the wrongful knowledge that I’d burn in hell for my mutterings (and full volume shouts!).

To be frank, I’d debased myself in the most graphic of ways and I didn’t know what my husband would think of me now. Surely he would hate me more than he had before spanking me and then owning me the previous night.

I quickly found that I could not crawl away from his presence without rousing him, the way his arms held me captive against and almost on top of his naked body. It occurred to me that I was surely in a particularly sinful position, pressing my naked flesh against his and wanting more of what I’d received the night before.

Not the spanking, although my bottom felt fine now - not the slightest discomfort had survived the night - but the raw sexual need that had overwhelmed me and Herbert as well.

The thought that the Devil had lured us both into temptation and had won floated through my mind for a moment only to be stamped out by logic. God had blessed us. It wasn’t the Devil who’d given me so much pleasure but my own husband, a man God had matched me with so many years earlier.

That thought tempered the shame I felt, although Herbert’s erection was giving me sinful thoughts even now. I had to remind myself that it’s not a sin to love the man you’re married to and certainly not a sin to enjoy his body pressed up to you, naked. Especially naked.

I was able to move one arm a little, enough to drop it into Herbert’s lap and touch the object that had awoken so many new feelings within me. I wrapped my fingers around the hard shaft of his manhood and imagined what it’d be like to touch my tongue to it.

I had never had such sinful thoughts before and for the first time I didn’t immediately block them out with prayer for strength, thinking those thoughts were caused by the Devil.

Instead, I allowed myself to imagine what it’d be like to kneel naked before Herbert and worship my husband’s staff of life, to kiss it, to lick it, to engulf it with my mouth.

His penis. No, his cock. I’m past using the clinical term for it. Saying the words cock, even now, gives me tingles. Feeling it now was so liberating, too. We’d together created life four times with it and this was the first time I’d ever set out to touch it with conscious intent. To explore my own husband’s erection.

All four of our children had been conceived in the dark, with Herbert and I in our nightwear, the only part of him exposed under the bed covers being his manhood, with him guiding himself into my womanhood, my nightgown hiked up just enough for the purpose.

He’d always so carefully used it to deliver his life-creating seed to my womb without hurting me - or for that matter, generating the sort of responses I provided him with last night.

Now, pinned naked as I was against his equally naked body, I was being given another opportunity to explore my husband for the first time, something that should honestly have occurred decades earlier.

Herbert had been right all those years ago and I had berated him for it, implying that to seek pleasure from coupling was sinful.