Chain Story 3

This is the third in a series of stories which were created by you, the reader.


Simon, just home from work, went upstairs and slowly opened the bedroom door. All day long he had waited for this moment, his mood alternating between anger, trepidation, excitement and determination.  Had his new wife gone back to live with her mother? Would she follow the instructions he'd written down for her that morning?


As he came in the door, Simon noticed that the instructions he'd left were still laying on the desk. She hadn't even seen them. Or she had seen them and she was gone?

She was there. As for following instructions... not exactly. He had told her to be waiting for him and ready for a spanking. Of course, he hadn't spelled out exactly what "ready" meant, so maybe it wasn't her fault. She certainly looked nervous enough. Good. And wearing her old school uniform she looked like she had at least some idea of what was going to happen.

"Well?" said Simon. "Are you ready?"

"Ready? Of course, Darling, I'm ready for anything you want to do."

So this was how it was to be. She was pretending she had no idea what he was talking about, hoping he had forgotten or maybe just hoping she could distract him. One look at his face told her that he wasn't distractible this time.

"What did I tell you to be ready for, Nancee? It wasn't for going out for dinner, now was it?"

"What a wonderful idea! We haven't been out for a long time! Where do you want to go?"

"Nancee. I told you to be ready for something very specific. Now tell me what it was."

She could tell he wasn't getting distracted and his voice was getting calmer and colder and softer by the minute. This was not what she was trying to do. She began to realise that she was not going to distract him. This was starting to feel scary.

"Nancee? Did you forget what I said? If you don't remember, I guess I wasn't forceful enough. I'll do better next time. As for this time, I'll remind you. I told you to be ready for a spanking."

"Yes, but Simon, really! You can't have been serious! Wife beating is illegal and has been for some time now. Women even vote these days in case you didn't know."

"I would never, ever, beat you. Or keep you from voting." he added dryly. "But we talked about your behaviour at some length, and we agreed, or I thought we had, that smoking was not going to be tolerated in our home, now that we're thinking about having a baby. We agreed that if you couldn't help yourself, I would help you. And we agreed, at your suggestion as I recall, that I would help you by giving you a spanking if you could not control your cravings."

"We agreed to that? I thought it was just an idea."

"We agreed to that because it was the only thing you thought that might actually stop you from lighting up when you got a craving."

"Well, yes, but....but...but..."

"The only butt I'm interested in right now is yours. Over my knee. And Nancee, don't bother arguing. Just get it over here. You are very lucky that I realize that you didn't actually know how to get ready for a spanking. This time, I will show you. Next time, if there is a next time, you will do these things before I get home. Now. Go and get me the hairbrush. That silver one you got for our honeymoon."

"The hairbrush? Our honeymoon hairbrush? NO!"

Simon said not a word, but walked to the dresser himself and picked it up. It was heavy silver, round, with a six inch handle and ornate carvings on the back.

"Next time, you will be waiting for me holding this, on the bed. Now, take down your panties."

Nancee was almost shaking she was getting so scared. This was not the sort of spanking she had imagined when she flippantly told him that the only thing that would stop her smoking was a good spanking. And it sounded like he wasn't going to be satisfied with one either! He was already talking about 'next time!'

"T-t-t-take down my panties?"

"If you can't manage that, either, I will do it for you." Simon was talking even softer as he tapped the hairbrush across his hand, making a nasty thwunking sound.

Nancee was having second, third and fourth thoughts about this whole thing. Being married to Simon was wonderful, most of the time. But this... she hadn't even been spanked as a child, not to mention as an adult.

"You don't have to do this Nancee. But we are not having a child until you can give it a healthy body to grow in, not to mention a healthy home to live in after it's born. Now make up your mind. Either take down your panties and come lay across my knee or forget it! If you want a baby, let me help you stop this destructive habit. If not, well. then we'll just go out to dinner. So what's it going to be?"

spoiled brat

She decides she has no choice, so she gets the hair brush and, turning her back to him reaches up under her dress and pulls her panties down, very slowly and reluctantly.

Simon says, "come here and lay over my knee. I am going give you 50 swats and I want you to say the swat number and 'sir', and ask nicely for another one."


Our young woman is punished like a child; spanked hard on her bare bottom. Her tears and her reddened bottom do NOT deter our punisher. She is spanked well to the point of wailing. When Simon decides that her bottom has been spanked well enough "for now" he sends her -- bare assed to the corner. She must bury her nose in the corner and stick her red ass out to be swatted at any time. She may NOT rub her sore bottom or the belt will be the next tool to swat her bottom...


Simon eyes his handiwork as Nancee stands quivering in the corner, her nose pushed to the wall and her hands resting on the back of her head. She can feel his eyes on her, taking in her curves and feeling very satisfied at the condition of her rear end. Why did she ever mention spanking as a method to quit smoking? She could really use a smoke about now. She glances quickly over her shoulder as the sound of movements rustle behind her. She can see Simon in the next room. "I wonder what he is doing?" she whispers to herself. She takes this opportunity to rub her flaming arse just a little. Then she quickly returns to her position before Simon spots her. She can finally draw a steady breath. She has almost stopped shaking all together.

"Darling come in here please." Calls Simons voice from the other room.

Keeping her hands on her head she quickly does as he asks her. As she walks around the corner her eyes widen in surprise. He couldn't be planning to... She begins to back away her eyes wild with fear her hands unconsciously covering her rear to protect it. Before she could escape Simon catches her by the elbow and forces her to her knees in front of the large ottoman in the corner.


"You deliberately disobeyed me, thinking you wouldn't get caught. I will not tolerate disobedience," Simon tells her. "What did I tell you would be the consequences if you rubbed your bottom?"

Nancee begins to tremble. Her bare bottom is still hot and throbbing from the whacks of the hair brush. She had never been so humiliated, having to count out each stroke, and then ask for more as if she relished the pain. Actually, her own response wasn't what she had anticipated. The trepidation turned to pain at his firm discipline. But she knew she deserved it, and she found herself more intrigued than ever at this man, this husband of hers, intent to help her do what was right. And she was wet between the legs.


She heard it before she felt it, the stripe of pain across her backside. The stroke of his belt across both cheeks brought her back to reality from her musings on the earlier spanking.

"I intend for you to answer me. What did I tell you would be the consequences for rubbing your bottom?"

"You, you... said you'd take your belt to me," Nancee answered through her moans.

"That's right," he said. "And I intend to follow through on that promise. Now bend over the ottoman and prepare to take 15 strokes............


He stands over her, looking down, a long thick leather strap hangs from one hand.

"Now young lady" he begins, noticing her eyes have not left the strap. " In future, your behaviour will determine whether you will be punished, poor or disobedient behaviour will result in corporal punishment."

"You are mad" she managed to stammer. "Mad... if you think that i will agree to you... using that..." her eyes moved up to look at him.

Simon fancied that she saw something a little different in her eyes, excitement, respect, a yearning.  He also noticed that she remained where she was, hands on her head, on her knees.  Perhaps there was a joining of desires between them.

"Stand up." He ordered, and moved back a step as she did so. He walked around her, his eyes taking in the flow of her back and hips, the round buttocks, still showing the outline of the hairbrush. This was the woman he loved, he wanted, and he wanted on his terms.  He wanted to control and punish, he wanted her over his knees when she misbehaved, or over a table when disobedience warranted the strap across those beautiful buttocks.


Timidly she stood up.

"COME HERE." Simon commanded pointing to the exact point he wanted her. "On your knees!"

Obediently she knelt down in the spot he specified. Her heart was racing.

"YOU WILL DO WHATEVER IS NECESSARY TO KEEP OUR CHILD SAFE AND HEALTHY." He roared loudly. The room seemed to rumble as his words echoed down the hall.

"Yes. Yes, I will I promise" Nancee stammered. "Please no more!" She implored.


"How on earth can you expect to bring up a child, when you yourself behave like a spoiled little girl most of the time anyway?" He asked her.

She could feel his warm breath as it tickled the hairs on her neck.

"Turn around." He told her. It always turned Simon on like crazy seeing her like this, so contrite and unsure. He loved the different expressions on her face each time he added another twist to her punishment. Like now, when she saw the over-sized baby's dummy hanging from the pink ribbon in his hand.

"Nancee, from now on this will be known as YOUR punishment dummy, if I EVER catch you smoking, or find out by other means that you've been smoking, then you will be spanked. And in order to stop you from putting one of those disgusting things in your mouth you will use your punishment dummy for the following twenty four hours. And it will only be removed if I give you permission to remove it. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR, LITTLE LADY?"

"Yes." She said, as Simon slid the humiliating object between her pouting, quivering lips.

"Now, get your nose back into that corner, young lady, and remember this, there are lots of ways in which to add to your childish punishments!"


It was some days later. The memory and stripes on my bottom had faded; I was desperate for a fag. Simon was watching the football on the TV; he would never know; I slipped out of the house down to the garden shed; in a moment I was gasping with relief as the nicotine flowed in to my system.

I was just stubbing my ciggy out, when to my horror the door opened. Simon stood there, "I thought I could trust you after your last tanning, so now we will make it one to remember." He said furiously.

I stared pop-eyed as Simon picked up a garden birch broom, pulled out some long branches, binding them together with a piece of string. "It's a birching for you, young lady".


"No darling no please, it was just one ciggy." I begged.

His anger cut me short, as he pointed to a wooden saw horse. "Over there, at once, the more you delay, the more you will get". He chucked an old rug over it.

At least he is making me comfortable I thought ruefully. "Oh please, it will hurt so," but I knew that Simon would not give in. With a last pleading look at my husband, I draped myself over the horse, and then gave a cry of alarm as he tied a cord across my back, holding me helplessly bent over, my head down, my bottom on high. I tried vainly to rise, as I felt my skirt tossed up over my back, and my knickers peeled down to my knees.

"One dozen, and I hope this will make the point, as next time will be two."

"No please, that's too many!" And then I heard a 'swoosh', and I yelled as a thousand ants attacked my bare bottom, raising a biting burning sting. "Swoosh" again; the sting got worse and spiteful little twigs flicked onto my tender flanks. I howled and wriggled but the birch continued falling, covering every bit of my plump bottom and thighs.

At last Simon stopped. I lay there squirming, frantically trying to shake off the searing bonfire in my hindquarters. Then I heard the familiar sound of a zip, and hands parted my tender cheeks..........