A Learning Experience

A Story by Marta

Marta and Steve had been married three years and had not yet started a family. They had played some spanking scenes as fantasy enactment, and Marta sometimes found it exciting. But lately, Steve had started to pick on Marta about her spankings; in fact, he had become quite overbearing.

"Marta, I want you to spank me hard with the hairbrush. Just because you like those little patty-cake spankings doesn't mean that I do. You think light spankings are exciting, and you might enjoy really whaling into me if you would give it a try. The bottom line is that you are not satisfying my needs, and you don't seem to care. I keep telling you that if you could use spanking for real discipline in addition to sex, we would both benefit."

"Steve, you always want kinky sex and spanking. Don't you understand that women prefer tender sex and romantic lovemaking?"

"Oh, Marta, you know that I love everything about you, the way you look, smell, taste. I'll do anything to meet YOUR needs. I can't help it that my fantasy is that you will get strict with me and spank me to enforce your will. Sometimes it seems like you don't even care about my needs at all!"

"Quit being so pushy! First, I don't think you even know what you're asking for. It's one thing to fantasize about being spanked hard, but a good dose of that heavy brush would bruise you purple and make you cry like a baby. I swear, I think you have a case of arrested development; you sound more like some adolescent than a grown man. I probably SHOULD spank some sense into you. All this constant nagging is getting very tiresome, and I don't appreciate it one bit. I'll bet I could end all this silliness in a few minutes over my lap if I wanted to."

"OK, please do it. I will submit to anything you propose. But I think we need some mechanism to assure that you don't chicken out and let me off too easy."

"Steve, you are so patronizing about this; it's really getting on my nerves."

"Sorrrree! I just want a wife who will TRY to meet my needs."

"OK, buster, I'm gonna meet your needs, and then you will be 'sorrree', after all. As a matter of fact, I know a little more about hard spanking that I have ever let on to you, and I think maybe it is time for me 'share MY feelings'. It seems like all we've been hearing about lately are YOUR needs and desires. You want a good spanking? Go into the bedroom and take off your jeans and boxers. I want to see a bare backside when I come in there in five minutes. And you will speak only when I ask you to. Do you understand?"

"Yes. . . . Thank you."

"You are going to thank me, all right. You'll thank me for stopping. Except you'll be crying so hard I'll have to guess at what you're saying. Do not speak a word when I come in there, if you know what's good for you. Now, get!"

When she came in the bedroom, he was standing facing the corner (she hadn't asked for that, but she liked it, and made a mental note), bare-bottomed and shivering with lust. He couldn't see what she was holding: a deck of playing cards and her old sorority paddle. She went to the closet and got two bathrobe sashes and two of his tackier neckties (not to worry, he had plenty more). In a bossy tone, she demanded (although he had not moved an inch), "Do NOT take your eyes out of the corner. Now, where is that hairbrush you think you like so much?"

"It's in my underwear drawer."

"How appropriate. Now get over on the bed. Take the reading pillow and drape yourself over it, on your stomach, you know just how I mean."

As he scurried to comply, she went for the hairbrush. It was a formidable implement, probably an antique, based on its heft and polish. This will do just fine, she thought, but the maple paddle resonated with her, too, and she wanted to swing it as well. Tapping the hairbrush against her palm a few times, she was glad she was not the one on the receiving end. Her college days had been an education in more than one way.

She noticed his obvious arousal and smirked at his selfish innocence. She would take care of that in about 3 swats. Maybe 2. And then she would give him about 100 more. At least. She mused to herself, "He might have warm memories in the morning, but he'll be weeping and wailing before these ties come loose tonight."

In short order, she had secured each of his legs and arms to the bed frame, with his buttocks presented at a perfect angle. He had a handsome pair, shapely and springy and altogether inviting. She tapped them with the brush and decided they were quite resilient. This was going to be fun.

"Now, Steve, I have never told you about this before. When I was in sorority, about ten of the best-looking of the actives chose several of their favorite pledges each year to join a select group known as "The Clique". There was a secret hazing day, when we went to one girl's father's hunting camp, and they made us play something called the 'Game of Chance.' But, take it from me, there was no chance involved. We got blistered with sorority paddles, just like sorority girls from an earlier era. They dressed us in thin cotton leotards, and the paddles hurt more than you can imagine. And those leotards were embarrassingly revealing, especially bent over like that! I think I got it worse because my rear is so prominent. You know, the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and I guess the girl with the protuberant rump is the one that gets whacked the most and the hardest. What was really unfair was that, for some reason, I felt ashamed when I sat for the next four days, like it was my own fault they had been so mean to me.

"So tonight, Stevie, you and I are going to play the Game of Chance, and I think you can guess who is going to be the loser. You want a hard spanking? I'm betting you will never ask for one again, Buster. Because when you hear the rules, you will understand that there is not too much 'chance' involved. And my goal is for you to feel a little bit ashamed of your sore bottom when you sit tomorrow."

She laid out the paddle, the hairbrush and the deck of cards where he could see them. Then, she explained the rules: "Since your hands are tied, I will draw the cards for you. Here is how it works.

"We will shuffle the deck and draw a card. If it is a joker, you will get 10 swats with the sorority paddle, as hard as I can give them, then we re-shuffle, and draw again. If it is any other card, we will try to match it on the next draw. The match card will be the other card which is the same denomination and color. So, the match for the 7 of hearts is the 7 of diamonds. The game is over when we draw the match card. Every time we don't draw the match card, you pay a penalty. Then penalty for getting the wrong card is two swats with the hairbrush. If you are lucky, you won't get the paddle. But I don't think you are going to be that lucky.

Steve did the math in his head. "That could be about a hundred and four swats."

"Actually, Stevie, you are forgetting about the rule with the Joker: Any time you draw a joker, I'll use the sorority paddle to give you 10. Those will be memorable, I promise. And then . . .  I'll reshuffle and we will keep going for that match card, smacking your precious rear merrily as we go."

"My God, Marta, that could go on for hours, because the chances of getting the Joker and the match card are the same."

"Sorry to break some more bad news, Sweetheart: each deck of playing cards comes with 2 jokers, and this is a brand-new pack. And I am not going to let up until we match, no matter how many times we have to re-shuffle. In the sorority, those wicked actives put 3 extra jokers in the deck, and that's why I had to ride back to the sorority house laying on my tummy. But I wouldn't do that to you, because 2 jokers are enough."

And so, they played. Marta didn't swing the hairbrush full strength in the beginning, because she knew that he was going to be tied over the bed for quite a while. She just used her forearm, with a nice wrist snap for a very smart crack against his plump flesh. The first card drawn--the one to match--was the Ace of Hearts, perfect because it is bright red and shaped rather like a pair of buttocks. She giggled with delight. From then on, each draw was punctuated by two loud cracks of the flat wooden brush on his handsome bottom. They got harder each time as her confidence grew. The hairbrush made quite an impression during those first few minutes. In fact, he was sweating and struggling by about the 7th or 8th draw.

And then came the first joker. After she had applied the paddle the prescribed 10 times, the meaty portion of his backside was a shade resembling Cabernet Sauvignon. She gave him a brief rest, and then, leaving the Ace of Hearts turned up, she re-shuffled. Her cool demeanor as she shuffled just broke him emotionally, and he began to cry a river of tears as she repeatedly shuffled and cut the deck, taunting him. The next time the hairbrush smacked down was pure agony, and from that point on, he wailed aloud with each solid smack. And they were all solid. Toward the end, he stopped struggling and crying out; he just sobbed gently and resigned himself to the ongoing conflagration in the southern hemisphere. He almost seemed to be ignoring the cards as she turned them, just absorbing the swats as they rained down relentlessly. That is, until the next Joker, when he moaned again and trembled a bit.

Actually, his luck turned out to be not so bad, considering the odds. He only drew three Jokers, but she used the paddle with the kind of leverage Martina Hingis puts into her forehand slam. The rectangular imprints of the paddle created an artistic, not to mention, dramatic, visual delight. By the time the Ace of Diamonds turned up, he had received about 120 with the brush in addition to the 30 with the paddle. NOW he knew what a hard spanking felt like. And it was not sexy, not at all. Not to Steve, that is. But Marta, well, she was quite stimulated. So, when she untied him, the first order of business was to lay back and place both hands on the crown of his head, to direct him nonverbally to his familiar duties. Her relief was speedy and absolute, and she more-or-less passed out with exhaustion. He laid beside her, on his tummy of course, and eventually drifted off asleep.

In the morning, at the breakfast table, he ate standing up. Her first question, of course, was: "Well, are you satisfied? Was that the spanking you wanted?"

"It hurts so badly I almost couldn't take a shower. I tried to put on jeans but had to wear baggy pants instead. I can sit--barely--but I don't think I'll be wanting a spanking anytime soon."

"Well, what you want is no longer what concerns me. What I want is some respect and understanding of my wishes, and now I know how to get that. I really should have done this sooner."

"Marta, you really got my attention last night, and I don't want any more of that any time soon. It wasn't sexually rewarding for me at all, I'm afraid."

"Good, it wasn't supposed to be. Just expect to receive more of the same any time you displease me."

"But . . . wh-wh-wh-what if I don't think it's fair?"

"Too bad. Since I intend to spank you whenever you are disrespectful or sarcastic to me, I'm sure you usually WON'T think it's fair. Just expect me to settle all our little disagreements over my lap from now on: rudeness, selfishness, thoughtlessness, all your bad habits. And I am not going to tolerate your rudeness or abuse directed at any other people either. And that especially includes my mother and her boyfriend. I really resented what you said to her about him last Tuesday. It was WAY over the line, and you will be punished if I hear anything like that again."

"Oh, come on! He's a pompous jerk, Marta, and your mother is a fool if she can't see through his act."

"Young man, there's one person who is acting like a fool at this minute, and it's you. I just told you what to expect when you talk like that. You must be deliberately testing me. Go get the hairbrush and march right back here and take down your trousers. We will NOT have ridicule and disrespect about my family."

"Marta, please. I can barely sit. My rear hurts when I walk. I'm sorry. You don't have to spank me."

"Steve, when you are to be spanked, there shall be no discussion or disagreement. I want you in that corner, pants down, while I finish eating. Then we are going to have a dialog on my terms. I think about 50 swats with your favorite implement will do you a world of good right now. And guess what: I could give you a hundred without straining my arm or my conscience one bit. As a matter of fact, I will do whatever I need to get your attention. Now bring me the hairbrush and get in the corner with your pants down, unless you want more than 50. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," as he wiped away a tear with a trebling hand. He waited in the corner while she finished her leisurely breakfast and a second cup of coffee. She moved her straight backed kitchen chair to an open space where she could easily raise her arm all the way back behind her head.

"OK, Bad Boy, turn around and get over my lap."

As he turned, she disapprovingly noted that he was once again sexually excited. Tsk, tsk. His learning experience was going to be an ongoing one. She made a silent oath to herself: we WILL make this marriage work, but it will take some time and effort. She involuntarily squirmed a little against the chair and licked her lips with anticipation. "Right over, young man, and put your right hand behind your back. I want you to work on staying still. And I want you to listen to me because we have a few important things to discuss. I don't think you will be wanting me to have to repeat myself!"