“Abbie, Abbie, Abbie, my God woman what have you done now.” I’m Abigail Dunsmore (nee Warton) and my loving husband Richard’s reading the mail and he certainly does not like what he’s just learned. It seems our mortgage payment to the Home Loan Society is two months in arrears. And of course I’m at fault, I manage our household finances.

“Abbie, how could this have happened, where’s your sense of responsibility? I supply you with sufficient funds to meet our obligations, the expenses of running the house and adequate money for your personal needs, what have you done?”

“Where’s your head dear, why do we have days like today? This morning I had no shirts ironed; you ironed one after I complained but as a consequence I was late getting to the office then I came home to the odor of a burning roast and now this, please explain.”

“Oh Dickie, I try to be responsible but I guess I’m just a flighty girl, I’ll try to do much better in the future, I really will.”

I can explain it to myself; I’m a conniving little bitch. I know what I want and now I think I’m going to get it. It’s not something I want all the time, every day, but every three or four months I need it. Of course I’d not ironed his shirt, to burn the roast I’d set the oven temperature to 450 degrees and the money for the past due mortgage payments was in my bank account. I’d catch up on the ironing and post the payments tomorrow. Unfortunately the roast was beyond the help of medical science.

“Abbie, I know you’ll try, you have my confidence but, perhaps a little reminder’s in order, please go upstairs, I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Oh please Dickie, no, I really do mean it, I’ll do better in the future, I promise.”

“Abbie, please, go and wait for me,” Richard ordered.

With a forlorn fearful face I trudged up. The look was for Dickie’s benefit, it wouldn’t pay for him to know all of my secrets, my knickers were damp. I was going go get a spanking, a well deserved spanking.

I’d learned at my father’s hand. W. Wallace Warton could be a severe man and he certainly was a believer in corporeal punishment. Please, I’m not implying that he was brutal, he wasn’t. He gave me the strap on two occasions but his punishments were appropriate to the transgression. I got the strap for coming home intoxicated when I was fourteen and again when I was suspended from school for being caught smoking marijuana in my junior year. They made their impression; I’ve not gotten drunk again although I do truly enjoy an occasional cocktail or a glass of wine and I’ve smoked nothing, marijuana nor cigarette since that day.

I don’t remember when he didn’t spank; I guess I was five or six the first time I went across his knee. It was on my bottom, over my dress. He gave me four or five good whacks then stood me up and explained why the discipline was necessary. That was Daddy’s way. The spanking then the lecture but you knew what was expected of you.

The more serious the deed the less protection I was afforded; over the dress, dress raised and on the panties or panties down; and always the lecture. I think I managed to average one a month until I left for home for college.

Mother wasn’t immune either, I’m sure Daddy still takes her in hand occasionally. She does have a penchant for mischief once in a while; I think I inherited my perverse desire for a warm bottom from her.

Initially I tried to avoid punishment. It hurt, oh not terribly so, the lectures were worse but I really didn’t look forward to a spanking. Then at age twelve, I’d just had my first menstrual period and I’d done something particularly devilish. He took me to his den, that’s where punishment was administered, and I lay across his knees. I never knew until I was in place which of the three ways I was going to get it. He lifted my skirt over my back and lowered my panties to my knees. I though, oh, oh, it’s on the bare.

He never gave more than ten whacks, usually less. This time I got the full ten. After five something happened to me, my tummy felt funny and I felt a tingling between my legs, a wonderful tingle then I felt wet and gooey down there, I lifted my hips up to accept my next five and I moaned. Daddy thought he’s hurt me, but no, it wasn’t pain.

He stood me up raised my panties and lowered my dress then explained why the spanking was necessary. I never heard a word. My legs were weak and I wanted to get to my room, why was I wet and what was that feeling?

Mother was just coming out of her room as I walked by. She stopped me saying, “Abbie, you look a little dazed, is something the matter?” She led me to her bed and we sat side by side.

“Mummy, Daddy spanked me.”

“Yes, I know,” she replied, “But that’s hardly the first time. What happened?”

So I told her. I told her how my tummy had roiled and I told her how I’d tingled, how I felt wet and gooey, but how nice it felt.

She reached under my dress and felt my panties then smiled at me, “Abbie I do believe you just had your first orgasm.”

We had our first discussion about the birds and the bees. She even explained sexual intercourse but she also pointed out the potential consequences, loss of reputation, pregnancy and such. She encouraged my to protect my virginity until my wedding night. She told me I’d have urges and explained self-gratification; masturbation if you will.

I went to my room and she went down stairs. I heard dished shattering and she swore. Loudly and clearly she swore. Not at all like my mother, we didn’t use foul language in our home. It simply wasn’t accepted.

Daddy tromped down the staircase. I heard him, he could be loud when he was angry, shout, “Mildred, the dishes can be replaced but the language is totally unacceptable, please come upstairs with me.”

And I thought, gosh, that was intentional, she wanted hers.

He took her to the den, the door closed but I could hear the muffled whacks, five of them.

When she left the den she stood in my doorway, she had tears in her eyes but a smile on her face. “Five on the panties,” she winked, “I always give him a few tears, it cuts down on the lecture, you should try it,” Like we were co-conspirators and, I guess we were. I took her advice, a few tears, for Daddy and now for my Dickie.

For the next six years, ‘til I left for school I was a willful girl requiring discipline at least once a week. Mother was better behaved or maybe it just took more for her to get to Daddy. She got hers every two or three weeks.

I met Dickie while I was in college. He’s a manager in my father’s firm and he’s so like Daddy he could be his son. Dickie’s father, as with my father believed in disciplining both his children and his wife. Dickie grew up in an atmosphere much the same as I and he accepted it as the proper way to conduct family life.

After we became engaged I’m convinced that Daddy had a talk with him about me and how he’d dealt with my strong headedness.

Dickie and I had a large church wedding and a fantastic two week European honeymoon. I was a virgin and his experiences were very limited. We might have been a bit clumsy in our love making but we made up for it with enthusiasm. For the first year of our marriage sex was bountiful, at least five or six times a week. We wanted children and we worked hard at getting a family started. I have nice wide hips, ideal for child bearing and full breasts, I wanted a baby to nurse on them. It didn’t happen.

After the first year and after my failure to conceive we both got physical examinations. There was nothing wrong with either of us. It just didn’t happen.

Perhaps it was the fact that our family wasn’t started, I’m not certain exactly the how or why of it but our sex life changed, from active to very pedestrian, from almost daily to once or twice a week. And my little itch came back.

Dickie’s not nearly as authoritarian as Daddy and it took a lot to finally get his goat. I over spent and he paid the bills, I was argumentative with him and sassy and he accepted it, I stayed out late with girlfriends and he forgave me. I wondered what it was going to take.

I sought the wise counsel of my mother.

“Abbie, if all else fails, embarrass him before friends, careful though, don’t go overboard, just enough, maybe a little sass or a bit of back chat, ok, let me know,” was her advice.

As it turned out we were having Jack and Jennie Newton to dinner the following Saturday evening. Jack was another manager in my father’s business and Jennie and I had been classmates at college. We’d all been friends for some time.

Dinner had been a success and we were in the living room. The guys were having cognac; Jennie and I were sipping wine. I was on my third glass. Maybe I needed it, a little “Dutch Courage” for what I was going to try to do.

My tummy was quivery when I contradicted Dickie the first time. He looked at me strangely; it was out of character for me. I was strident and a bit loud when I did it a second time. This time I got what I’ve learned is “The Look.” I think it was even a little embarrassing to Jack and Jennie. Our evening ended on a low note.

After the Newton’s had left I poured myself yet another glass of wine. Dickie commented, “Abbie I believe you’ve had enough.”

In a voice dripping with sarcasm I replied, “Whatever do you mean Dickie dear?”

“Abbie you embarrassed me this evening. I think Jack and Jennie noticed.”

“Now how did I embarrass you?” I asked.

“Abbie, you contradicted me on several occasions, you were loud and you were a bit obnoxious, that’s how you embarrassed me.”

“You mean because I didn’t agree with you, I’m not permitted to speak my mind now, is that it?”

“Abbie, of course you are entitled to speak your mind but there is a time and place for it and tonight was neither the time nor the place. I’m afraid you spoiled a wonderful evening with our best friends.”

“Oh pooh,” I scoffed.

I’d gone too far, from his expression I thought he might physically strike me. But Dickie’s not that sort of man. Instead, he took my hand and, saying, “I think we need to go upstairs,” he led me to the bed room. He sat on my vanity stool and stood me in front of him. He reversed my father’s process, I got my lecture first.

“Abbie, I deserve more respect than was shown this evening, please let’s not have a repeat performance,” he said and he bent me over his knees.

My cocktail dress came up and my panties came down and I got ten of his best. He hit harder than Daddy, the tears in my eyes were real but so was the tingle, I was wet.

When he’d finished he stood me up but instead of replacing my clothing as Daddy would have done, he lifted my dress over my head, turned me and unfastened my brassiere and took me to bed. Dickie was more aroused than he’d been since our wedding night and so was I.

We fell on each other, kissing passionately like young lovers. Dickie kissed my breasts, my nipples were hard as marbles and he sucked them, nipping and tweaking them. I could hardly stay still; I was squirming under his attention. He kissed down my body, licking and nibbling at first my tummy then my pubic hair, finally he opened me. He laved my slit, snaking his tongue into my vagina, tasting me then he tugged at my labia with his lips. At last he sought out my clitoris, I could feel that it was swollen, engorged, awaiting his mouth.

I was lubricating, I had been since the spanking and now it was heavier. When he took my clit between his lips and sucked me into his mouth, I came. The orgasms rolled through me, rippling my tummy, spasming my vagina, one before the next and Dickie was taking it all in. He’d always been hesitant about giving oral sex but now he was drinking from me like I was the fountain of youth. He laved me until I couldn’t take anymore, I was twisting and turning on the bed moaning, “No more Dickie, no more, oh, oh, oh, please no more.”

He rose between my thighs, God his erection was enormous, he grinned at me and mounted me. He rode me hard, gashing deeply into me, grunting with each throbbing thrust, fucking me like I’d never been fucked before. Damn, it was fantastic; I wrapped my legs around him and hung on for dear life. And he seemed insatiable; he went on and on, longer than he’d ever lasted before. Rutting me like he was a wild animal.

I felt him swell within me, I screamed, “Ooooooooh yessssss,” as my pussy erupted, my cum gushed, contraction after contraction forcing my fluids out and Dickie roared as he exploded into me; pulse after scalding pulse filled me.

Sunday mornings started early at our house. Breakfast at seven; Dickie had a standing tee time at eight. He, Daddy, Jack and another of the managers were the Sunday morning foursome.

As soon as he left I drove over to Mummy’s, I wanted to tell her how successfully her idea had worked.

“Good morning Abbie,” she greeted me, “What brings you out so early on a Sunday morning? Would you care for coffee?”

“Please Mummy; yes I’ll have a cup.”

She poured and said, “So tell.”

“Mummy, it worked perfectly,” I told her how our evening had gone.

“I thought perhaps it would. I know it certainly works with Wallace. I’ve had many a morning when I could hardly sit when I’ve done something like that.”

“Mummy, he beats you that hard?” I asked in amazement.

“Oh Abbie, you know how he spanks, no, it’s not from the spanking.”

“Mummy, tell me.”

She seemed a little embarrassed and flustered, she tried to deflect the question, saying, “Abbie, you don’t need to know all of our little secrets.”

“I tell you everything, Mummy, I want to know.”

“Your father likes my bottom dear.”

“Of course he does, you’ve got a cute bottom,” I told her.

“Thanks for the compliment but that’s not really what I meant, he likes to take my bottom, make love to me there.”

“No, not Daddy, not like that,” I was flabbergasted. “Daddy wouldn’t do that.”

“Abbie, sweetheart, of course he likes it. I truly believe every man likes it. Straight or gay, it’s the one thing all men have in common. Hasn’t Dickie ever tried?”

“No Mummy, never, why would men want to do that?”

“Honestly I think there are a couple of reasons. First maybe it’s like dining on forbidden fruit but mostly I think it’s about power and dominance.”

“How so? Mummy.”

“Think about it Abbie. Start across your man’s lap, your dress up and your panties down. Don’t you feel dominated, waiting for your spanking doesn’t your tummy get a little watery, don’t you experience just a little fear? I think that’s every man’s dream. The difference is, with our men it’s more than a dream, they’re living it. Wallace takes it a little further, once he’s turned my cheeks red he takes my panties off and guides me to the bed. Sometimes he takes my dress off but not always, sometimes he just flips it over my back. I’m on my knees with my head on my pillow waiting while he prepares me, he always lubricates me, he doesn’t want to hurt me. When he enters me I’m in a most subservient of positions and he in the most dominate, just for a few minutes he owns me.”

“My God Mother, doesn’t it hurt?” I asked.

“Sometimes just a little when he enters me but I’ve gotten use to it. It hurt a lot more when he first started but that was years ago. Now, truth be told, I like it; I like the little sting when he stretches me and I like the fullness I can feel in my bowels. I sometimes even have an orgasm if he plays with me just a bit.”

“Would Dickie like doing that, I wonder.”

“Dear, Richard is a man, he’d like it. Now go home, my panties have gotten damp just having this discussion. I need to plot so Wallace is in the right mood tonight.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time Dickie got back. I was in the kitchen dressed in a bikini that showed my bottom nicely. Dickie always had a few aches and pains when he came back from golfing, no carts for my boys, they walked.

I said, “Why not change into your suit and come out by the pool, I’ll fix a couple of gin and tonics and give you a back rub?”

“Oh Abbie, I can feel it already, I’ll be right out.”

I was waiting, two gin and tonics and some oil. Dickie lay on the lounge chair and I did his back for him.

We chatted the early afternoon away, nothing meaningful, he told me about his round of gold, I mentioned that I’d visited Mummy, general chit chat.

Finally, I said I needed to start supper and asked if he’d like another G&T, he did. I fixed it.

I took a quick shower to rinse off the chlorine, donned a sun dress and panties, no bra, barefooted and set about preparing the meal.

Dinner would be Dickie’s favorite; steak, yes my guy was a red meat loving carnivore, I had a pair of bone in rib eyes. I’d already baked two potatoes, I scooped out the flesh, seasoned it, mixed it with sour cream and grated cheddar and restuffed them. I’d heat them under the broiler. I tossed a salad, steamed some asparagus, sliced French bread and uncorked a bottle of Cabernet.

I stuck my head out and told Dickie that dinner would be on in fifteen minutes if he wanted to grab a shower. He did.

Our meal was pleasant; afterward Dickie put on some music we danced and sipped a little cognac.

A little after ten we went up to bed, I was in my gown and he was in his shorty pajama bottoms, I was lying on my tummy beside him. He was idly rubbing my back through my gown. He patted my bottom.

“Dickie, do you like my bottom?” I asked.

“Abbie, I think you have the most fantastic bottom in the whole wide world.”

“Dickie, I’m a little sore there, would you give me a massage, there’s some body lotion on the dresser.”

The lotion was apricot scented; he kneaded my buttocks and rubbed my hips. It was soothing. I was surprised, he separated my cheeks and kissed me, just a peck but he kissed me. Then with his lotion slicked finger he circled my ring. I wriggled my hips letting him know it was ok; he slipped into me, just a little but he’s penetrated me. He jerked his hand away as though he’d been scalded.

“Oh Abbie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Dickie, I’m not sorry, I’ve always thought of down there as dark, musty and dirty but I don’t think I do anymore. That felt nice. And Dickie, you kissed me, that was sweet, but what brought that on?”

There was a shyness in his voice, he said, “Abbie, I don’t know what inspired me, I guess I always thought the same way you just said, dark musty and dirty so I can’t tell you what came over me. I kissed you but I really wanted to put my tongue in you. I wanted to taste you; is that so bad of me?”

“Dickie, we’re consenting adults, more than that we’re married, what goes on in our conjugal bed is nobody’s business but ours. If I want to do to you, I will and if you want to do to me, I want you to. Dickie, you’re my husband and my lover and I’m your wife to have and to hold, any way you want to hold me.”

“You really mean that Abigail?” He asked.

I thought, oh my God he’s serious. He only calls me Abigail when he’s serious. I answered in kind, “Yes Richard, I really mean that.”

He held me and kissed me.

Dickie had drifted off to sleep but the Arms of Morpheus hadn’t reached out for me. I lay awake thinking. Thinking and experiencing just a little fear. My tummy was unsettled and my bowels were watery. I’d opened the door. I didn’t know when but I did know my little brown eyed virginity was not long to be retained. My guy had the lust in his eyes, the lust Mummy had told me about.

Finally I drifted off to sleep, to dreams of being skewered on a seven inch cock, Dickie’s Dick.

I got Dickie off to work, then I called Mummy to compare notes.

She insisted that I tell her everything, so, of course I did. She commented, “That boy’s a fast mover, I see why Wallace holds him in such a high regard.”

I didn’t disabuse her of her opinion, I didn’t point out that I’d instigated what had occurred. Instead, I asked about her evening.

“Oh I really was a bad girl yesterday; Wallace had to give me ten of his very best on the bare. Now I’m not going to tell you what I did, doesn’t really matter. What I can tell you is that I’m sitting on a ring cushion this morning while I’d talking to you. They make them for hemorrhoid sufferers but they work fine for me. You really should get one, dear.”

Dickie and my love life changed after that weekend. We enjoyed each other far more; some of the boundaries we’d imposed on ourselves had come down. We’d not yet had anal sex but we did engage in anal play and oral was, well there’s no other way to put it, oral was fantastic. He put his all into his tongue and he had become a virtuoso, he could play my clit like it was a Stradivarius and I’d learned to deep throat. Dickie said it was like being masturbated with a warm, wet velvet glove; that was a compliment, I guess.

But my womb remained barren. We retested, still no problems came to light. It was the only thing that cast a pall over our love life; we wanted a baby. We even discussed adopting but I was still in my twenties. We decided that if I hadn’t conceived by thirty-five we’d revisit that idea. An additional three years had passed. Dickie and I had been married four years.

We were out with friends, we’d had dinner then drinks and some dancing, it had been a fun evening and we’d teased each other, little sexual innuendo comments around the table from all of us. By the time we got home Dickie wanted and so did I.

I got out of the bathroom first and was lying on my belly on the bed waiting for him. I had my nightie on, just a top, no panties. The gown covered my tush but nothing more. Dickie came out of the bathroom still naked; his bottoms were under his pillow. He didn’t bother; he climbed on the bed next to me and massaged my cheeks.

“God you’re a beautiful woman, I’m so lucky to have you,” was how he opened.

“Yeah and I’m pretty fond to you, too, Dickie,” I said.

He gave me a pat on the ass for my smart remark.

“You like that don’t you Dickie?” I asked.

“Yeah, I like, I really like,” was his breathy reply.

“Well Dickie, I like that you like, in fact I wanted you to like but dear husband of mine, it’s time we took the next step. I want you in me Dickie; I want you in me there, tonight, now.”

I rose to my knees, passed a small tube of KY Jelly that I’d secreted under the pillow back to my man and said, “Be sure I’m well lubricated, it’s gonna hurt and I’m not a masochist, I don’t crave intense pain. I know I’m gonna suffer just get me ready.”

He did, he did all he could do. Over half that tube was in me, on me or on him when he got behind me and opened my cheeks; I felt him press against me, I was as ready as I could be, he even asked, “Abbie, you ready for this?”

I could only nod my head yes. Hell I didn’t know if I was ready, I soon found out. Dickie pushed through my sphincter and my body rebelled, I wailed, God I thought this has to be a preparation for child birth but instead of going out it was coming in. He stopped pressing into me, he let me accept what he’d given me. Mummy was right, it hurt, God did it hurt but Dickie took things slowly, I could feel him as he inched forward, giving me just a little more, sliding deeper into me, just a little more and then a little more. I, in my mind thanked Mummy for telling me about a pillow. Right then it was my best friend. I sobbed on it as Dickie filled me.

Dickie was gentle with me. He’d stop and wait if I tensed up. He rubbed my sides, back and bottom, talking softly to me, telling me how much he loved me. Slowly, I relaxed; he was able to fill me. I understood what Mummy meant. Yes there was pain as I was being stretched but it was a bittersweet pain. It was the pain of sweet surrender; Mummy was right about that, too. I was giving myself over to my man, he controlled me. And the fullness, more than I’d ever felt in my vagina, I felt him filling me. I wished he could get deeper, clear up to my tummy. Then he began to pump me.

With slow rhythmic strokes he filled me then he emptied me then he filled me again. It wasn’t the mind blowing sensation like when he excited my clitoris, nothing like that, I was submitting to him, he was my man and I was him woman, yielding my body to his control. I felt more like a woman, his woman than I’d ever felt before. I ceded my self to him for him to do as he chose. He chose to be a gentle lover with me.

I could have gone like this for hours, but I sensed an urgency building in Dickie, his thrusts became deeper, faster and more powerful. Dickie must have realized I wasn’t near climax. He reached under me and found my clitoris. He massaged it then took it between his thumb and forefinger and masturbated me. The change was immediate, the clitoral contact along with the fullness drove me over the edge, I arched my hips, Dickie buried himself in me, pumping harder, faster, I felt him swelling, I rode his fingers as he rode me, I climaxed with a wail, panting, I flung my head from side to side, my hair flying. Dickie roared as his ejaculate flooded into me, heating and filling my bowels, and we rode each other until we were both drained of our juices.

I collapsed to the mattress, spent. Dickie followed me down then rolled beside of me.

“Hold me, please just hold me Dickie, God I love you.”

He kissed my eyes; they were still damp with my tears and whispered, “I love you, too, Abbie.”

Dickie and I have now been married for six years. I hadn’t had many spankings over the past two years, I didn’t need them, Dickie and I couldn’t have added any more enthusiasm and spice to our love making but once in a while, just once in a while, I’d get that urge.

I’m sure Dickie has figured me out. He knows I like an occasional spanking, it’s become a sort of foreplay but we both play the game. I’m a bad girl and need to be disciplined.

Today his shirt was unironed, the roast was burned and the mortgage is past due. I’ve been a bad girl so I’m on my way upstairs. It will be the last trip for a while, you see, I’m eight months pregnant. At last.

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