[This story involves spanking, whipping, and caning. If that is not to your liking, please read no further. All characters are well over 18.]
I had had it with my husband's temper tantrums and his endless loss of control over his anger. He would explode at the slightest problem or perceived lack of respect. I started thinking that if I couldn't think of some way to change the way he behaved, I would begin taking the steps necessary to end our marriage, which had lasted almost 20 years.
When I brought this up, at least he did take it seriously. He flipped the issue back to me for a suggestion as to how we should proceed.
"I do have an idea," I began, trying to convey a knowing tone in my voice. "Just listen to this. You may not like the sound of it or like it at all. But I am convinced that we need to do some differently. I 'll say it again: I'm not going to put up with your temper and your nastiness anymore. So, listen carefully."
"As a mother, whose children are grown and gone--at least from living with us--I know about bad behavior and somehow I managed to deal with it by using my wits," I announced, "but not hits. In other words, I did not ever hit them. You, however, are an adult even if you often don't act like one.
"Every time you act up, show pique, make a nasty remark, or in any way display your anger loudly, obnoxiously, and, in a word, wrongly even if you're right," I continued, reaching the climax of this peroration, "I'm going to punish you, yes, punish you, because you are exhibiting childish behavior for which I would correct a child but not punish them as I intend to punish you."
That made him nervous, but I had him in a posture where he was waiting to hear what I had in mind. I knew that it would not please him.
"I'm going to call you on your outbursts by telling you quietly but firmly that you had better stop it right now," I told him. "And I'm going to keep track of them. Every time you misbehave--and that's exactly what it is--I'm going to write down a general note in a few words in this small notebook. I will award you one, three, or five points, depending on how badly I think you have blown your cool.
"Every Friday, before the weekend, in short, you will report to me in our bedroom and I will inform you of how many points you have incurred that week," I spelled it out. "And then, depending on how big a total you have racked up, I will spank you. If your bad behavior continues, there are more serious punishments I will not hesitate to award: I intend to end this thing, which has gone on far too long."
I was a little surprised when he went along with what I laid out. Then he posed two questions for me.
"First, what are the more serious punishments?" he asked. "And when will you end this whole thing?"
"I'll answer the second question first," I said. "This will end when I'm satisfied that you have changed. First, you will have gone a week without any blow-ups or any behavior that earns you points from me. Second, you will have spent at least two evenings out with me and with others without acting up, and you know what I mean. This is going to require some self-control that you haven't shown for a long time. But by the questions you asked, I feel you have accepted what I have said and what I will do."
He seemed satisfied with my response, which strengthened my feeling that he was going along with my plan. Then he said, "But what about the first question: the more serious punishments?"
"I wasn't threatening you when I said that" I answered. "I was stating exactly what I intend to do. If you keep blowing up and acting like a petulant child after being spanked, at some point, you will be dealt with more firmly. When you are on the verge of exploding in anger, consider this: the next words you may hear from me will not be anything about my writing points in the notebook--and I don't intend for you to know what points I'm awarding until we review your behavior each Friday. I will say something like: 'Jay, you obviously need stronger incentives to behave.' That will be followed by a specific sentence: 'For that reason, you will be whipped, now.' If I find that that doesn't make you give your actions more thought before you lash out, the next sentence you will hear is the following: 'Jay, you have left me no choice but to impose a harsher punishment: you will be caned."
I think my ending with the prospect of his being caned really got through to him. He looked stunned.
"I realize that I've not been the husband I should be," he cautiously responded, "and I do think that this is harsh in the extreme, Elaine. But when I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and I really have no choice here. I gather, by the way, that you are saying that if you decide I have been really out of order, I might be punished at once, with your not waiting for Friday?"
"That's right, Jay," I snapped. "I reserve the discretion to punish you on the spot if I believe you have behaved exceptionally badly. This decision is entirely within my discretion and there's no appeal, no second chance. Do you understand, and do you agree?"
"One last question," he then raised, knowing my answer. "Could I be punished in front of someone else or others?"
"I hope that won't be necessary," I stated quietly but firmly, "but if I have to in order to make the point with you, yes, it could happen."
That clinched the deal. He actually kissed me and shook hands.
"I'm pleased that you're taking this well," I told him, but with a smile. "I don't think you'll be a happy camper when your pants come down for the first time, but, believe me, I'm determined to use this plan to bring about the change we now both agree needs to happen with respect to your anger and outbursts."
Things proceeded quietly for the next few days, but at the end of the third day, I remarked that he was clearly aware of the consequences if he reverted to his past behavior, so I encouraged me to continue whatever he was doing to change his ways.
He smiled and told me he would always love me.
I couldn't resist responding, "I hope you continue to feel that way."
The next day, he came home from work quite a bit late. It turned out that he had stopped for a quick drink with two pals. He explained that he got into traffic.
When he gave me that flimsy excuse, I was furious but didn't raise my voice.
"Dinner has been ready for an hour, Jay," I said very coolly. "You could have called me if you intended to be late. Why were you? I suspect you stopped at that bar near your office."
"Yes, I did, and I'm sorry," he said.
"Not good enough," I said sharply. "You're getting some points for this lack of consideration."
"I didn't know that was included in your scheme," he responded, but without rancor, "and I think you're being unfair."
