The tears flowed on this mid-July morning as Elizabeth and Jennifer sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and sharing their frustrations with each other. It had been a long five months for the two widows and friends, whose husbands had been killed in a February car accident as they were driving home from a college basketball game.
Elizabeth, called Lizzie by her closest friends, and Jennifer, who was called Jenny by most, were a study in contrasts. Elizabeth was 44 with jet black hair and a skin tone that looked like she had a perpetual tan. She was 5-4 and had a nice figure, although she hid that well with how she dressed. Today, she was in jeans with pantyhose - she always wore pantyhose - and a baggy dark top that obscured her breasts that were contained in a plain 38D bra. Jenny, 24, was 5-2, pale skinned and blonde. She was wearing a denim miniskirt that barely covered her cute ass and a thin white top that made it clear that she was not wearing a bra. She had a 34B bust size with prominent nipples.
Lizzie thought of Jenny as the daughter she never had. The two had met in Jenny's sophomore year at the local college. She was an education major and was assigned to work a few hours a week in Lizzie's third-grade class to gain some practical experience. The two had hit it off and Jenny had worked in Lizzie's classroom every semester she was in college, had done her student teaching under Lizzie's tutelage then had gotten a job teaching at the same school.
Along the way, they had discovered they were both submissive. They served their husbands in vastly different ways but both were very submissive.
Lizzie, an only child, had married at the age of 17, one month after graduating high school. She had grown up in a home where her mother was openly submissive. She had seen her mother slapped, heard the sounds of her mother being spanked with the paddle or belt, and, a few times, had been punished alongside her mother by her strict father. It was an arranged marriage, really. Jim was 22. His father and Lizzie's father were friends. Jim had been brought up to believe that a woman's place was to serve.
In her private moments, Lizzie would admit to herself that she never really loved Jim. She respected him and they had built a comfortable life together but Lizzie always knew that she was there to cook, clean, do the laundry, serve his sexual needs and accept his punishment for her shortcomings. Jim worked long hours in the family business - his family owned a furniture store - and would spend hours at night tinkering with the latest car he was restoring in the garage.
Jim had only a few rules for Lizzie. She had to dress modestly at all times, wearing long skirts and dresses in public. She was not allowed to wear heels because he was only an inch taller than her. She was permitted to wear only plain underwear. She was not allowed to wear short pants outside the home and was required to wear pantyhose anytime she left the house. The house was expected to be kept spotless and dinner was to be served at 7 p.m. nightly. A paddle was kept hanging in his closet to deal with any infractions. He allowed her to work, which her father never had allowed her mother to do. Lizzie's biggest disappointment was that they had not had children.
Jenny had discovered an interest in BDSM in college. She had met Matthew on a website. The two had played, dated, fallen in love and married. She lived for his punishment and humiliation. At home, she frequently was nude, sometimes with heels. She always wore a collar at home and an ankle bracelet as a public collar. She always wore nice skirts or dresses, usually with heels, to work. She loved sexy bras, thong panties paired with a garter belt and stockings.
Lizzie and Jenny were thrilled when Matthew became friends with Jim, coming over to the house and tinkering with the cars in the evenings and on the weekends. The two played golf together, hunted together and went to sporting events together. That allowed the two women to spend a lot of time together.
After the accident, Jenny had moved in with Lizzie. The idea was the two women could help each other get over their grief. Lizzie had decided to take a sabbatical for the next school year. Jenny resigned her position, saying she planned to earn master's degree before she returned to the classroom. The move had not gone as smoothly as expected.
Jenny had been there about six weeks by this point, and the house, to put it charitably, was a mess. There were boxes in the garage, boxes in the dining room and boxes all over Jenny's room. The two were always going to take the boxes "tomorrow." It had been weeks since Lizzie had dusted and she could not remember the last time the kitchen had been properly cleaned. There had been only surface cleaning of the rooms. Jenny had been going to bars, sometimes coming home after 3 a.m. with alcohol on her breath and in what Lizzie felt was no condition to drive.
"I admit it," Lizzie said, wiping tears away from her face after pouring out her frustrations to Jenny. "I am totally lost without Jim's discipline. I don't know what to do but we cannot go on the way we are, Jenny. We are going to end up hating each other."
"I was so pissed off at you when you yelled at me for coming home so late," Jenny said. "Then I went to bed and just tossed and turned. I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about how disappointed Matthew would have been with me for drinking and driving. He would have used the switch on me for that."
"The switch?" Lizzie said, raising her eyebrows.
"The switch is awful," Jenny said. "The worst part is he would make me go into the yard and cut my own. I had to cut three of them, prepare them then bring them to him. They hurt like hell and left my ass and sometimes my legs marked for a few days. Sometimes I had to wear longer skirts or dresses to hide the marks at work.
"I hated the fucking switch with a passion. Sorry about the language, Lizzie. I know you don't like me talking like that. But I really did hate the switch. The thing is, though, I always felt so much better after he punished me. It was like all the guilt was gone. I had paid for my mistake and it was over. I know I need that again. I want that again. It makes me a better woman."
Lizzie got up and hugged her friend and wipe away her tears. The women sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Jenny spoke. "Lizzie, I have an idea I've wanted to talk to you about. But first, I want to show you something online. Let me go get my laptop."
Jenny came back almost at a trot, carrying her open laptop. She set down in the table in front of Lizzie. It was open to the profile page of a Dominant man from their town. "Lizzie, look at this photo," Jenny said, pointing to the computer screen. The photo showed a variety of spanking implements - two paddles, a hairbrush, a belt , a razor strop, a riding crop and a cane sitting in the sunshine on top of a patio table."
"The profile is interesting," Lizzie said. "But what about the photo?"
