What were you thinking? Truth wasn’t she wasn’t, or maybe was, but about the wrong thing. When Maisie considered what could have happened, what they almost lost – well it didn’t bear thinking about, oh dear, there we go again.

Thank goodness Pete stepped in to save the situation, at least one of them capable of functioning like an adult.

And now he’s angrier than she’s ever seen before, silently seething at a wholly unnecessary brush with disaster. This can’t go on, something has to give. Maisie would gladly make amends if she could just figure out how.

They sit sullenly together on the sofa until eventually Pete breaks the spell. Takes Maisie’s hands in his and looks at her intently.

“You know how infuriated I am with your behaviour?”

She nods mutely, too ashamed to speak.

“And agree this needs fixing?”

“Yes”, Maisie’s voice seems to have shrunk.

“Good, because I’ve decided what’s going to happen.”

Maisie feels the familiar flood of relief that accompanies her man taking charge. A long pause follows…

“I’m going to punish you” Pete continues, his voice calm and controlled.

Maisie’s eyes widen in shock. “You mean…”

“Physically, spank you every day until I decide you’re sufficiently sorry.”

“But I’ll be…”

“An extremely sore and regretful girl by the time I’ve finished”

While Maisie is no stranger to fun spankings as sexual foreplay this daunting prospect brings a thoroughly unwelcome dimension to their relationship.

“When, how…” she stammers.

“Starting tomorrow, here at home. We’ll have to fit around busy schedules so your corrections could occur any time.”

Maisie knows better than to argue or attempt to bargain her way out. Be honest, she reflects, this is entirely your fault.

We’ve all suffered Monday morning blues, waking up to anxiously face the rigours of another week. Imagine that sinking sensation multiplied many times and you’ve some idea of how Maisie felt next day.

The couple are both working from home and Maisie waits most of the morning for the dreaded summons until finally called to the dining room. Pete is sat in an upright wooden chair when she enters and beckons Maisie stand next to him.

“Let’s skip the lecture and get straight down to business,” he says. Next thing she knows her jeans are undone and tugged down, along with a cute pair of panties. Pete pulls Maisie face down over his lap, fingers and toes just touching the floor. Maisie’s been across his knee before, comfortably stretched along the sofa giggling and playing the brat. This undignified pose serves only to emphasise the vulnerability of her prominently displayed bare bottom.

Grasping her slender waist Pete commences a hand spanking. His palm is large and Maisie’s delightful derriere small in comparison; consequently a fiery glow soon assails her pert buttocks. Maisie twists and shouts to no avail. Surely his hand must hurt by now? Her bottom feels like it’s on fire. Eventually her husband decides justice is – temporarily – served and hauls his snivelling wife to her feet.

“Get over there and face the wall. No rubbing,” he commands sternly. Shuffling clumsily across the polished floorboards for once Maisie does as she’s told while

Pete contently contemplates his handiwork. If only she knew what he has in store…

“OK, you can go,” he says at last. Quickly Maisie pulls up her jeans and pants. Far too quickly it turns out. Her bum seems to have swollen and the tight denim chafes painfully. She pouts indignantly then catches herself – really girl, you reckon this is somehow unjust? Get over it.

Tuesday dawns, far brighter than Maisie feels. She dons a pretty summer dress and strappy sandals to visit a client and for a couple of hours manages to put the impending chastisement to the back of her mind. Unfortunately Pete is holding a polished wooden paddle upon her return.

“Where did that some from?” Maisie’s voice quavers, her bottom continuing to twinge from yesterday’s punitive attentions

“I ordered it online,” Pete replies smugly.

That bloody chair again! Maisie is instructed to kneel on the seat facing the back. Pete produces a large safety pin and fastens the back of Maisie’s dress high above her waist. Inevitably her panties are lowered.

“Push it your bottom right out – further please. Good, hold that position. Do not move.”

Crack! Oh Christ, the pain is immediate; covering such a wide area the following blows immediately overlap and intensify it further.

“Pete please,” Maisie wails plaintively. Unmoved he continues the paddling until a dozen lusty strokes have been delivered.

Feet kicking, white knuckles gripping the chair, Maisie struggles to contain her emotions. Unwisely looks over her shoulder and gasps at the livid red state of her blazing bottom.

“Same procedure as yesterday,” growls Pete. “Stay right where you are, and no rubbing. Think about what you did.” A tear truckles down her cheek. This so humiliating.

Wednesday is no better. Pete catches her unaware, bodily carries his wife to the bedroom and deposits Maisie on the bed, buttocks lifted by a pile of pillows. Figure hugging leggings seemingly sprayed onto to her posterior are peremptorily pulled down. A tiny thong – protecting nothing except her modesty, and as she squirms against the onslaught of a classic wooden hairbrush spanking not even that – is left in place. “Hold onto the bed head if you can’t keep still,” instructs Pete. “Any struggling and you’ll get extra.”

Maisie so does not want additional strokes. It appears daily discipline has a cumulative affect, her tenderised bottom hurting immediately the promised spanking commences. After five minutes of post punishment cornertime the young woman’s hands fly to rub her heat-radiating rear. It hurts so much and she’s no idea when the ordeal will end.

Thursday is the nadir of Maisie’s week. She needs to be at the office today and is just applying lipstick prior to leaving home when Pete pounces.

“There’s no time,” Maisie panics, “I’ll be late for work.”

“Don’t worry this won’t take long,” replies Pete, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Can’t it wait until I get home?”

Apparently not and the unfortunate girl once more encounters the now thoroughly despised chair. This time bending over the back, head on the seat and grasping the front legs.

Pete’s jeans stiffen as he lifts her smart office skirt and lowers Maisie’s tights and knickers. High heels tense her calves and thrust her ever-delightful bum into prominence. She loves a vigorously seeing-too from behind and were the circumstances different Pete would be only too pleased to oblige…

“Six strokes of the cane act should ensure you concentrate for the rest of the day”, announces Pete flexing a wicked rattan rod.

“Oh No!” Maisie hates being caned.

Nevertheless the threatened half dozen are harshly delivered, three from each side to ensure symmetry. Maisie cries out as each blazing band of fire slashes down across her defenceless cheeks. Somehow manages to maintain her stance but remains whimpering over the chair long after he’s ceased.

“Thought it might get easier as the week went on? No chance,” says Pete. Despairingly she drags her underwear agonisingly up over the crimson lines bisecting her hot bottom, grabs her workbag and makes a dash for the train. Hurriedly repairs her makeup on the station platform and politely declines a stranger’s offer of a seat, standing is much the preferable option.

The hurt permeating her posterior seems to worsen as the day wears on and Maisie tries not to squirm too obviously on unforgiving office chairs as the wheals throb madly. She perches very gingerly on a pillow that evening while watching TV that evening…

On Friday morning Maisie is all but naked, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a flimsy robe when Pete appears.

“I haven yet recovered from yesterday,” she wails, “look at the state of my bum cheeks, I really wish you wouldn’t spank me today.” Pete carefully examines the blotches, bruises and angry lines.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he says enigmatically, pausing to consider alternatives. “Alright,” Pete adds eventually, “drop the robe, hands on head, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Maisie, for whom submissiveness is becoming second nature, complies, surprised and embarrassed to find herself turned on. How can this happen, she wonders, why is her body betraying with such conflicting signals? Pete returns with a plastic ruler she recognises from their home office.

“I’m prepared to allow your bottom time to recover,” he continues and Maisie briefly cherishes the short-lived hope of escaping another good hiding. Sadly not, Pete remains implacable. “Today’s correction will be applied to your thighs instead.”

Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire! Maisie yells anguish as the tender front and backs of her legs are smacked a throbbing scarlet. Neither short skirts nor swimming will be in prospect for a good few days, unless she wishes to share her mortification with the wider world.

On Saturday the unexpected occurs.

“Something different today,” says Maisie’s man with far greater enthusiasm than she can muster. “Put on your best togs – makeup, heels, jewellery – really make an effort.”

Effort being the operative word, getting garbed in glad rags is hardly what Maisie most feels like doing. However, summoning up her remaining reserves of courage and resolve she heads to bathroom. Ultimately Maisie wants him to be proud of her, wants to be proud of herself.

An hour later the results are exceptional, albeit walking and sitting without wincing in discomfort remains difficult. Maisie looks dazzling and when raising the hem of her figure-hugging dress Pete discovers his obedient spouse has indulged his passion for stockings. Taken into his arms and held tightly she sinks into his embrace.

“I’m sorry for being so bad,” she whispers, surrendering completely, “you should continue my punishment now.”

“First of all remove your panties”, Pete says quietly, watching entranced as flimsy lingerie is sensuously slid down sheer nylon-sheathed legs.

“Kneel on the bed; head down, bottom up and spread your knees wide.” Despite having revealed herself to him a thousand times Maisie blushes at this intimate revelation. Her mind races, what will he chastise her with today?

Slap! Pete’s hand strikes her bottom cleft, stinging Maisie’s tender rosebud. She yelps in effrontery and fright.

“We’re done. No more punishment, your penalty is well and truly paid,” announces her husband. “That was just a warning for the future.”

Pete’s finger traces the slick gap between Maisie’s pouting labia, teasing her hot, wet pussy, his tongue simultaneously circles her engorged clitoris. The intense sensation is pure magic, intensified by being so unanticipated. Lust and arousal suffuse Maisie’s lower torso, a piquant contract to the residual heat of her spankings.

Electric shocks of desire surge within her and Maisie wiggles her hips, longing to be impaled upon his cock. Moans in disappointment as her oral pleasures are abruptly ceased, only to growl lewdly as his rod nudges the entrance to her slick and slippery sex.

“Please fuck me,” Maisie implores, biting her lip and arching her back, intent on accommodating its entire length. Pete shafts Maisie slowly and considerately, letting lust build inexorably within her loins until she can wait no longer and forces her rosy buttocks urgently against his toned abdomen. All too soon her haunches convulse; body trembling and eyes rolling she calls his name out loud and, as he spurts deep inside, uninhibitedly orgasms.

Maisie, currently on cloud nine, doesn’t yet know about the leather flogger winging its way to their home in the post…

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