Amanda Lawless is a tall, slim and elegant young lady. Born a Fowler, and just turned 22 years old, she has been married for almost nine months. She is very much in love with Jim, her husband, and he is completely besotted with his beautiful young wife.
The Fowlers are wealthy family by most standards, long standing owners of a luxury car franchise, and valued members of the local community. Jim works for the family business as the Assistant Sales Director, but his position was won on merit. Years of hard work at university and then as long again learning the trade from the ground up. He had been introduced to Amanda by her father Douglas Fowler, the head of the company, at the company's 25th year celebration bash. Lillian Fowler had been scouting for young men of suitable standing for her daughter for quite some time, and was delighted to discover a very eligible Jim Lawless working for the family business right under her nose.
As good as life seemed, all was not well. Amanda had been properly brought up, with discipline meted out when deserved, by her mother for the routine infringements, and by Papa when she seriously over-stepped the bounds of what is considered proper behaviour for a nice young lady. But of late, she had been spotted leaving nightclubs in the early hours with a group of her female friends, and Lillian had begun to notice a certain slackness in the standards which had been so carefully instilled into her daughter. She had suggested to Douglas Fowler that he have a quiet word with their son-in-law, proposing that he should take a firmer hand with his young wife.
Sunday luncheon was slowly coming to an end. Always an exaggerated and prolonged affair, Amanda was fidgeting in her chair, anxious to go for a lie down now that the previous night's excesses were catching up with her. She disliked her husband's insistence that they always spend Sundays at her parent's home, she would much prefer to eat out at the local public house. And this week, there seemed to be an almost surreal atmosphere around the dining table. Very little, somewhat strained conversation, and she was sure she had caught a number of secretive glances being exchanged between her parents, and Jim, her husband. She frowned petulantly.
Lillian Fowler rose and made her way towards the kitchen to supervise the clearing away of the dishes, leaving Amanda's husband and her father alone in the dining room.
Lee has generously contributed a complete ending to the story, but I am leaving this tale open for others who have made alternative contributions.
"hurrumpgh!" An awkward clearing of his throat preceded Douglas Fowler's next announcement, "We'll adjourn to the sitting room. Come along Amanda!" A nod of his head signalled Jim to follow.
Jim looked confused, but meekly trailed his wife and father-in-law through the doorway into the adjoining room. That Amanda had glanced at him, looking more apprehensive than he had ever seen her, merely served to heighten his puzzlement. Something was going on which he was not in tune to, and he simply couldn't fathom it. As he followed Amanda's tightly sheathed bottom, she seemed to have lost much of her normal poise. In her heels, his wife was able to meet him eye to eye, but right now she seemed to have shrunk several inches. What on earth was going on?
Note: the following two excellent contributions arrived at the same time, I hope the authors will forgive some minor tweaks to enable them to flow?
"Amanda, you know the drill."
"Daddy!" Jim had never heard such a tone in his wife's voice - that strangled squawk was almost pleading.
"Your mother and I have discussed this," said Douglas. "Now you're not going to make a scene and let Jim down are you?"
The confidence in her father's voice calmed something deep within her. Amanda conquered the churning in her tummy. She couldn't believe it was happening again after all these years, not in front of Jim. But something about it seemed so.. right. Of course, they would still be there, she thought. She reached down and opened the drawer. Yes, they were still there alright, the same as ever. Daddy would expect her to offer them both, and she would watch agonisingly as he made his choice. But she knew his preference - the whippy crook-handled one. An age-old look of complicity passed between them as she proffered this one first.
Amanda hardly knew what she did next. She strode quickly over to Jim, and dropped the other cane, the straight stiffer one, in his hands. It flopped there, and Jim instinctively grasped it before it fell to the floor, holding the implement loosely in both hands.
Douglas Fowler seated himself at the massive partner desk. While catching Amanda's eye, he bid Jim to sit on the leather sofa, directing him away from the impressive red leather wing back chair. "And you may stand, please, Amanda." Amanda's countenance and posture sagged noticeably again. Douglas spoke in a way that precluded interruption. "Amanda, look at your husband, please. This is about you two, and your success as a couple."
"Amanda, I think you remember some visits to my study before you became a woman, and a wife. I remember that you always left here from those encounters with a mind to personal improvement and in those days, obedience. Well, your mother and I have discussed your behaviour of late, and the threat it represents to a long and happy marriage for you two youngsters. I sit here now convinced that some of the tonic that improved your behaviour those many years ago is in order again, today and whenever a renewal is called for. Amanda, I think you will remember how to present yourself for the cane."
Amanda turned nearly as red as her dress. "Oh, Father, please! I'm 22 years old. I am an independent, married woman now. I know you don't really mean that. Jim, I think we should leave now."
Jim did not budge from his seat. He just kept looking at his disappointing wife, smiled, and said, "yes, Amanda, I want to see you presented for the cane as well. Do you need help?" Amanda sighed, turned back to look at her impassive father, and shook her head. "This is ridiculous, what are my choices?"
Her father quietly and succinctly explained Amanda's situation: She could arrange her skirt appropriately and drape herself over the high arm of the wing back chair -- either entirely on her own, or with Jim's assistance. She looked pleadingly to her still newly-wed husband, only to see him nodding sternly.
Amanda's hands moved instinctively to her bottom, and she realized that dressing nicely to show respect for her mother at these bedevilling Sunday luncheons would be either an inconvenience or a blessing. Lillian had always been insistent that while Amanda lived under their roof that she dress "like a lady" in public, to look her best and to show respect for those she met. Knowing that Lillian would look at Amanda's wardrobe choices as either respectful or disrespectful for Sunday luncheon, she had gone out of her way to accede to Mother's antiquated expectations. She wore a patterned red silk sheath, her hair was carefully done in the French twist her mother admired. But beneath her dress was where Amanda had adjusted to Mother's expectations. Just like her mother, probably every day of her life, this afternoon Amanda wore her sole girdle, a tight, firmly controlling, long leg model that zipped with some difficulty on the side. Sheer stockings were tethered to six taut garters on the girdle. That would present her bullying father with a bit of a dilemma!
Amanda smiled inwardly, and stepped slowly to the damnable chair. She reached down, grasped the hem of her dress with both hands, and slowly worked it up to her waist. "Father, you can see I dressed to show respect for Mother; she would approve, don't you think? Couldn't that consideration earn me a reprieve this time? I get the message, I really do. We don't have to go through with this nonsense."
Douglas glanced at Jim, smiled, and disclosed a family secret, "My dear, it is amazing how much you look just like your Mother - even dressed the same - when she comes to my study for correction. We start with a few strokes over your lovely foundation - yes, I think she would indeed approve. Mother claims a girdle is no protection and even seems to intensify and prolong the sting of a cane. I mention that so you will have the question to consider after some personal experience yourself. Now grab the chair arms firmly, my dear; and remember it's extra for changing position. Jim, take careful note of good technique and the even more remarkable effect."
Amanda's face took on a stunned look as she digested that exchange. She grasped the arms of the chair and spread her feet a bit for the balance she knew she would need.
The room filled with a strange shrill wail, suppressed, but distinctly audible. Amanda was seen to rise high onto to tip toes, as the initial sting bit fiercely into her twin mounds.
She relaxed slightly as the wave washed over her senses, and then suddenly the almost forgotten after-pain re-invaded the centre of her bending bottom.
"oooohhhhh! One Daddy! But please, not so hard!" She begged. She simply couldn't believe how much that first stroke stung! Despite the sturdiness of her undergarment it burned viciously, and the heat seemed to spread and burn as though trapped with the tight confines. Her secretive amusement at having worn this particular garment evaporated rapidly as she desperately tried to think back to the last time Daddy had caned her, had it always stung as much as this?
.....SSWISSSSHHH-THWACKKK! Landed very close to the first line of fire.
"EEooohhhmmff" As Amanda desperately tried to suppress her cry in front of Jim. This was killing her! As her knuckles whitened around the chair arms she swore to herself there and then that NEVER would she give cause for anyone to cane her ever again. "Two Daddy! Oh it hurts!
Amanda looked over at Jim and saw that his once sheepish expression had been replaced with an intense gleam. It suddenly occurred to her that her new husband was enjoying this very much.
Douglas must have noticed Jim's enthusiasm too. "I think it's time I pass the reins on to you, young man." He said this as he handed the cane over to his eager son-in-law. Jim ran his hand up and down the sleek cane and then he swished it in the air to test it out. Amanda watched wide eyed while her mouth gaped open.
As Jim walked across the room he was aware that a new world of infinite possibility was opening to him. At the same time, he felt real compassion for his beloved, balanced in her awkward pose, her tightly packed derriere offered upward and outward. Jim had never seen his wife more beautifully presented and packaged. He reached out and rubbed the elasticised mounds that he knew would soon be his target. Having never swung a cane on a buttock in his life, he felt a certain naturalness about the whole scene, a talent for it, perhaps.
The cane seemed to endow Jim with a new confidence. He wafted it, sensing how well-balanced it was, and considered his wife's rudely out-thrust bottom. She peered back at him from her bent position, the haughty expression he was accustomed to replaced by one of trepidation.
"Jiiimmmm!" she whined, "Please don't! Please?..."
He felt waves of courage flow through his veins. "You deserve a good thrashing, Amanda! And I intend to see you get it.
So saying, he measured the cane across her bottom...
...and he brought it down with swishhhhhhhhhh next to her protected bottom. Amanda made to rise but a sharp command from her father changed her mind.
She was bent over shaking with fear before Jim had even landed the first stinging stroke of the cane, and as the cane came down several times more into her bottom she was pleading with Jim to stop.
Jim realised that he really wanted to see the effect this caning was having on his wife's bottom. But as thoughts of stripping down her underwear, and the difficulty of doing so, came into his head, he also recognised that it might not be thought proper by his in-laws. Glancing across at Mr Fowler, the older man seemed to be able to read his mind as he nodded his head firmly in the direction of the front window, and nodded approvingly.
"Right then, Amanda!" Jim surprised himself with the uncharacteristic authority his voice seemed to carry. "I think it is time we continued this at home." He sensed his father-in-law's approval. "Get up, adjust your clothes, and then go an wait for me in the car."
Jim looked down at the cane in his hand, and then across at Douglas Fowler. The other man was ahead of him again.
"By all means, Jim! Take that cane with you, and you will find a good sturdy strap in that same drawer. Take them both," and with a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen, "I think you will be needing them more than me. And make good use of them, son."
Jim found himself assailed by several significant thoughts at once. He had never been called "son" by his father-in-law before, and it made him feel truly accepted. And what was that meaningful glance towards Mrs Fowler in the kitchen all about? Surely she didn't still....? And the alacrity with which his usually sullen and wilful wife was obeying him was amazing!
"Bye, Jim!" Mrs Fowler called cheerfully as he ushered Amanda out through the front door.
And so they proceeded down the gravel drive towards their car, Jim following Amanda with his new tools carried in front him, almost like a sword and sceptre. Jim nodded to himself. If only he had known sooner! This is what was expected of him, not only by his wife's parents, but also Amanda herself. He resolved to ensure none of them would have reason to be disappointed in him again.