Tom was not having a good day. Things at work had reached a boiling point, and although he hadn't meant to, he had lost his temper yet again. His co-worker's feelings were hurt and he felt like a jerk. His mind kept spinning on the following three questions, "Why does he do this? Why can't he just control his temper like his does everything else in his life? When had he become the kind of guy who does these things?"
And to complicate matters, there was the home situation. Although things were going okay, he felt he had lost his passion for life. Nothing excited him anymore. Oh, he deeply loved his wife and all that, but he never felt his heart race and adrenaline pump anymore. He felt like he was just sleepwalking through life.
Tom had been pondering these issues while sitting alone in his car. He was in his private parking space in the office garage, a perk afforded him by his status as CIO. He turned the key in the ignition and just sat there, staring ahead, idling. He told himself he was just letting the cold car heat up but the truth was ... he really didn't want to go anywhere. He just wanted to vegetate, disappear, take a vacation from his own mind and the negative thoughts contained within it.
Lately, his mind seemed to turn every situation in his life over and over again, so he really never felt rested. No wonder he was on edge lately. He felt he had to keep up the facade of a positive upbeat executive when he was anything but upbeat. What he really felt was that he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders with no end in sight.
Tom didn't remember the drive home or pulling his BMW into the garage. He was just sitting there in the car listening to his favorite XM radio channel, looking out through the windshield starring at absolutely nothing.
Rap ... rap ... rap.
He jumped and turned. There peering in at him through the driver's door window was his wife Karen's concerned face, her knuckles tapping on the window.
Tom hit the auto-down button and lowered the driver's door window.
Karen had heard the garage door open and when Tom didn't come into the house and announce himself after 15 minutes, she decided to investigate.
"Backing out of our deal, Tom?" Karen asked.
Tom was confused, still foggy from the trance he was in.
"What, what do you mean?" Tom asked, annoyed that he was being forced to engage is brain in recalling some sort of a deal with his wife he had obviously forgotten.
"Don't you remember what tonight is?" glaring at him, waiting.
He had no idea what she was talking about, a slight panic setting in.
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"Well ..."
"Well nothing. Turn the car off and come inside," Karen commanded as she turned on her heels and marched back inside the house.
It was at the precise moment that the door into the house slammed shut that Tom remembered the deal. "How in the hell could I forget?" he thought to himself. A week earlier while on a business trip he had asked Karen during one of their nightly calls to provide him with some relief from the mental state he was in by administering one of her therapeutic spankings. Tonight was the night they had agreed upon.
Tom didn't understand the reasons behind it, but he and Karen had accidentally discovered that a good sound spanking always seemed to settle Tom's mind and provide relief from the intense pressures he was under at the office. This revelation came from previous spanking sessions that had started out as erotic experimentation but grew into more of a tool Karen used to keep their marriage and home life on an even keel.
Tom swallowed hard and turned the car off. He knew what was in store for him and in that moment, he could feel his face start to blush and the hairs on his butt begin to stand on end.
"I think you need to spend some serious time over my lap. Am I right?" Karen asked him as he walked through the door into the mudroom of the beautifully appointed Mc Mansion.
"Gee, do we have to do it right now?" He felt twelve years old.
"Absolutely, you know how much you need this, Mister. Do you have any idea how long you were sitting in you car with the engine running and the garage door down? I'll tell you, fifteen minutes! If I didn't know you as well as I did, I would have to assume you were trying to kill yourself! This funk you are in has to be corrected. Immediately! Now hurry up, I don't want any dawdling."
Tom just stared back at her, contemplating the very real possibility that he could have actually killed himself, once again losing all track of time.
Karen starred back at him flabbergasted. Tom was just starring at her, lights on, but nobody him. He was like a walking zombie.
"Get a move on it, Mister. What are you waiting for? Get downstairs, NOW!" Karen barked these commands at Tom in an attempt to bring him back from whatever place he had disappeared into.
"Yes, Ma'am!" Tom replied automatically. And with that Tom walked past Karen to the stairs leading to their lower level where most of the spankings around their home were administered, to wait for her. And wait for her, and wait some more.
In his current state of mind, it was nothing for Tom's mind to sit and spin on his current predicament. "What is she doing? Why is she taking so long? Doesn't she know I have financials to review and an executive committee meeting to prepare for?"
Tom was sitting on the couch in their well appointed family room with a nervous energy buzzing around him. Being an executive with people waiting to assist him at every turn, he hated having to wait. Tom's funk was starting to give way to annoyance at Karen's delay. "Who does she think she is," he said to himself. "I have more important things to do than sit here waiting for her!"
Finally he heard Karen coming down the stairs.
His annoyance was short lived when he began to think of what humiliation he will have to endure as a result of going over Karen's knee. A moment of complete and utter terror washed over him when the thought of what the other executives at his office would think if they ever found out that his wife puts him over her knee and spanks him like a naughty little boy.
Karen walked up to him, and stood towering over him, her feet firmly planted, her hands on her hips, and what appeared to be an antique wooden bath brush in her hand, looking down at him.
Tom panicked. Where had that bath brush come from? That was something new. It looked menacing with its long handle and thick oval head. He broke out in a cold sweat.
"What am I to DO with you, Tom? I thought we had an appointment this evening. Didn't we?"
"Yes, dear."
"And what did YOU ask me to do to help you get out of this funk you have been in for the past couple of weeks?"
"I asked you to pull down my pants and put me over your lap and ..." his voice trailed off.
"And ... WHAT? I can't HEAR you?"
"And, um, ... spank me?" Tom's answer sounded more like a question than an answer.
Karen looked Tom right in the eye. "Yes, SPANK you. You need to pull out of this self absorbed state you're in. It is going to reek havoc in your life if you don't. Get over here, right now."
Karen sat down on a low rise chair on the other side on the room which was just the right height for putting Tom over her lap, and was motioning with the brush for him to stand next to her. Reluctantly he walked over. He felt ridiculous. Imagine, a man his age getting a ... spanking? What was he thinking? And yet ... he knew he needed it, badly. He specifically asked her to do it. How could something so seemingly silly, be something he needed on such a primal level?
In one yank, she grabbed his arm and pulled him across her lap, head down and his butt pointing up.
She circled his waist with her left hand and held him in place a she rested the head of the brush on each cheek checking her aim. He couldn't believe the excitement that shot through him each time the brush met his butt cheeks ...
He suddenly had a picture of what he must look like, a grown man in a $1200.00 suit draped like a young boy over his mommy's lap. His faced turned bright red as he lay there in that position as she began scolding him for his behavior. He felt embarrassed as all hell, and nervous about what was to --
WHACK!
Not realizing he had been holding his breath, Tom exhaled from the combination of the pain and surprise. Karen had landed a really hard smack on his left butt cheek. The pain from that lone smack shot down to the tips of his toes. He was shocked that it stung so badly given he still had his pants on and that was only the first stroke.
"Karen, not so --" WHACK!!
The second smack directed at his right butt cheek came down equally as hard as the first and completely wiped the remaining words of his plea to Karen from his lips.
