Please Sir Put Me In My Place

Guilty arousal fluttered in Kate's stomach. It didn't matter how often her girlfriend said there was nothing wrong with this fantasy. It didn't matter that Kate's girlfriend was now indulging her fantasy. Shame still heated her cheeks and hollowed her breathing. Kate would call the whole thing off if she wasn't so horny.

'Katy,' said Lucy. She took Kate's chin to raise her from the bed to her feet. 'Do you still want this?'

'Yes,' Kate said, shaking and shivering.

'Brave girl,' cooed Lucy. She widened her eyes. Her gaze caught Kate in an irresistible embrace. 'You are a brave girl for sharing your deepest fantasies.'

Lucy's praise melted Kate's guilty jitters. She relaxed into Lucy's love, into her big, green eyes which saw, understood, and accepted Kate's everything.

'You are a brave girl,' said Lucy, guiding Kate into a kneeling position. 'You are a brave girl for asking to be put in your place.'

**

Ever the gentleman, Luke tried to help Kate up. Kate was so discombobulated by her fall, and by Luke's big, green eyes, that she accepted his proffered hand, before yanking her hand back. Kate Welles couldn't accept Luke Roi's help: for one, she was a strong, independent woman who could get to her own two feet; for two, Luke was a chauvinist pig who probably got off on helping damsels-in-distress; and for three, they were opponents in Petruchio University's annual live-streamed debate. Weak little Katy getting help from big strong Luke was bad optics in front of the crowd in the auditorium – especially for today's topic.

'I do admire your can-do attitude,' Luke said. 'A double major in medicine and journalism – you must be trying so hard.'

Kate stuck her tongue out at him, before huffing her way to her team's side of the stage. He made her so angry. He could say the most patronising things without a hint of sarcasm, as though he had genuine faith in her 'attitude', but none in her ability. Oh, but she'd show him today. With the research she'd gotten from her medical training, and the rhetorical skills she'd gotten from journalism, she'd cinch victory for the negative team on today's topic.

'A Woman's Place is in the Home,' read the projection on the wall, which showed the live-streaming footage of the stage. The topic hung over the two teams. For the negative, the three co-chairwomen of the Young Feminist Society. For the affirmative, three guys from the Traditionalists' Association.

Kate would smear the dialectal floor with their frat-gentleman blood, especially Luke. Look at him, smiling. How hellish it would be to be his girlfriend. He'd tell her to stay at home and cook his food. He'd buy floral dresses he'd expect her to wear. And after Kate did a hard day's work homemaking, he'd come home with a bouquet of roses, kiss her, and tell her she grew more beautiful each day. Kate blushed. Angrily.

Kate's teammate nudged her. The debate had started.

Well, if you could call it a debate. Kate had expected an easy victory in this culture war, but the enemy didn't even throw a grenade. The first man from the affirmative brought only sodden fire-crackers, dredging up decades-debunked studies, and 'logic' as leaky as a colander. The camera-work on the projector couldn't sex things up. When it cut to the packed audience, you saw only slouches and yawns. Kate felt sorry for her parents at home who'd have to slog through this whole live-stream.

The first woman for the negative prodded the audience awake by her show of competence, before the next man for the affirmative tranquilised the crowd. No one would be awake to see Kate take down Luke!

As her next teammate took the stage, Kate locked eyes with Luke, him smiling while Kate felt a little smile tickle onto her lips – No! No, she does not smile at sexists. Kate put on her crossest frown. Luke took centre stage. Kate couldn't wait to see what bilge dribbled from his mouth which she could throw back in his face.

And then Luke spoke.

As Luke weaved unfaultable logic, compelling rhetoric, and natural charm into an irresistible argument, Kate's neck grew hot and her stomach hollow. All the arguments she would use, he pre-empted; all the studies she researched, he outmatched with more robust one; all the feminist ideals she had engraved at the bottom of her heart, he stripped bare as the silly ideas of silly girls. And worst of all, Kate couldn't hate him for what he said. Even when he called her team 'irrational', 'emotional', and 'in need of good boyfriends', he spoke so gently that Kate knew Luke just wanted the best for her.

All the men in the audience leaned back, nodding their heads, hearing their unarticulated sentiments ne'er so well expressed. All the women, negative team included, leaned forward, their worldviews unmade brick-by-brick, as Luke laid proposition upon proposition towards his inescapable conclusions.

And Luke did this all within the ten-minute time limit. He finished with a modest shrug, concluding, 'Girls, we just want what's best for you.' Luke sat, but Kate couldn't stand. How could she stand when she didn't know which way was up anymore?

'Katy,' said Luke from across the stage. 'Have I upset you?' His voice was full of genuine concern and regret.

'No!' Kate shot to her feet. She would not be patronised to. She sure as heck wouldn't be undone by pretty speech. 'I am merely, um, contemplating triumph!'

With a big grin, Luke said, 'You'll make a lively catch for a lucky man.'

Kate marched to centre stage and pulled out her cue cards. She had crossed out every point Luke had pre-empted, which left her with only a few closing jokes. Looking through the audience of shivering female students, and female professors reconsidering their career choices, Kate realised the stakes of her defeat. So what if Luke had nice arguments. Up is not down, one plus one equals two, women do not belong in the home – no matter your counter-arguments, truth remains true. Kate had no arguments, but she'd make it seem like she did. She sucked air in, ready to bellow fundamental truths:

'Girls belong in the home!' Her firm voice frayed. 'The workplace is too big and scary for silly girls.' She couldn't resist Luke's hard, penetrating rationality. Tears welled in her eyes as she seconded every point Luke made.

Before she finished, a muscled arm hugged her. Luke looked down on her with tender eyes, assuring her she was a 'brave girl'. He told her to let it all out. She blubbered into his big, warm chest, confessing how silly her ambitions seemed. Her dream of becoming a journalist-cum-neurosurgeon – silly, silly, silly! She was so lost. She couldn't be a strong, independent career woman. But she couldn't – *couldn't* – become a housewife.

Luke cupped her chin. 'I know you're feeling lost. Long ago, you went down the wrong path, and now it feels the right path is unreachable.'

Kate nodded.

'But I have a way to put you on the right path, to put you in your place. Kate, do you want me to put you in your place?'

Kate panted out, 'Please, please, sir, put me in my place.'

Kate hadn't noticed Luke's teammates had dragged a chair to centre stage. Luke sat down and pulled Kate over his knee. She was so confused, she barely noticed Luke's teammates pulling down her jeans. She was facing the projector, and saw that her bum was bared to the audience – her bum was broadcasting over the live-stream! In the projection, Luke raised his palm, and he – oh, no, he wasn't, he couldn't be-

He spanked her. He spanked and spanked, while the camera cut back and forth from the shocked audience to her to smacked bum. Why weren't they cutting the livestream? Did the cameraman get off on seeing a silly girl spanked? Luke spanked again, but it was a spark to gasoline. Her feminist spirit reignited.

He spanked, before asking, 'What do we say?'

Kate yelled, 'Grown women do not get spanked!' She put on her angriest pout as she kicked her legs in the air and flailed her balled fists.

The camera zoomed in on Luke's face, which wasn't angry, just disappointed. He smacked her pinkening bum. 'What do we say?'

Kate saw in the audience girls squirming in their seats, as men practised swats. 'Do you see the fruit of the patriarch's love?' yelled Kate. 'A red bott-OW!'

'What do we say?'

'You can smack my bum, but never my soul!' She would not break. She would become a martyr – SMACK! – Ah! goddarnnit that hurts.

He smacked, and asked, smacked, and asked, till every spank was an army of fire ants. Ok, maybe she wouldn't be a martyr – SMACK! – but she'd outlast him. He had to get tired some – SMACK! – time. Hopefully her bum could hold – SMACK! – her bum could not hold out – SMACK!

'What do we say?'

What should she say? 'Sorry'? 'Please, sir'? She'd never been spanked before, she didn't know the etiquette. Curse her father and former boyfriends for never preparing her for this. Another smack jolted through her body. Even the men in the audience winced. Luke kept spanking and asking, and she could do nothing to stop him. She was helpless in his hands, ignorant of how to help herself, her only hope would be if he thought she had learned her lesson.

Luke was in control.

The epiphany coursed through her. This was not mere comprehension, but primal intuition. She understood, not just the spanking, but her whole life. Up until now, she had felt so confused, so many options open to her, so much uncertainty in every option. Everyone told her this was just 'being an adult'. But now Luke was spanking her, reducing all options to one path, his path, reducing all uncertainty to certainty, his certainty. Luke would guide her, body and soul.

SMACK! 'What do we say?'

'Thank you, sir!' The words exploded. 'Thank you, thank you, sir!' She said one for every spank he'd given. She wanted to thank him for every second of her life she would have wasted if he hadn't spanked some sense into her. Luke swivelled his chair to face the audience and hoisted her to sit on his lap. She winced and went 'Owch!' but the stings invigorated her. Luke smiled, and it made her so happy to please him.

'What do you want to be when you leave university?' Luke asked.

'Your housewife!' She smooched him, gave him eskimo kisses, told him how much she loved him.

'And when are you finishing university?' he chuckled.

'Right away!' If only Luke had spanked her during Orientation week.

'Do you have any advice for the audience, Katy?'

All eyes were on her, both in the audience and over the live-stream, but she didn't even need to think of a response. 'Spanking!' With a big smile, she said it again, 'Spanking! Girls, a spanking will put you back on track if you're feeling lost. Even if you think you're already on track – get your man to spank you!'

Some girls in the audience crawled over their boyfriends' knees, some boyfriends took the initiative, male teaching assistants seized tenured female professors, even Katherine's team mates got a helping hand from Peter's two partners. At first, some girls struggled, but before long, those frumpy feminists, shrewish sweethearts, misguided maidens burst from their chrysalises into domestic butterflies.

Luke pointed her to a camera, currently broadcasting over the world wide web. 'Your parents are watching, aren't they?'

They were! How lucky that they got see the exact moment when their daughter learned her place. Luke waved the cameraman over, till it was right up close.

Kate waved into the camera. 'Hi, mummy! Hi, daddy! Oh!' An idea, an obvious idea hit her. 'Daddy, spank mummy. All that time being a high-paid lawyer made her a bad mummy and a bad wifey. She can't even cook! Spank her, daddy! If she'd been a good role model, I'd be a housewife by now!'

Miles away, Mr and Mrs Welles watched their daughter, red-bottomed and smiling, telling them she wanted to give up her dream career as a journalist-cum-neurosurgeon to become a, a housewife. Well, Mrs Welles had heard of finding yourself in university, but this was scandalous. 'Wasn't this scandalous, dear?' She looked at her husband, who stared at her pantsuit-ed bum. 'Oh, no, Daryl, oh, no,' she scolded, as she edged back. Daryl realised they'd paid off their mortgage, and their daughter didn't need more any university tuition. Why did their household need two-incomes? He forced his petulant wife over his knee. She shrieked saying she'd sue the pants off him, even as he pulled down her pants (no wife of his would wear men's clothes). He smiled at his daughter on the computer screen, his daughter who had gotten him to give his wilful wife the bottom-beating she'd needed since the honeymoon. As his wife's protests became apologies became contrition for brattiness became smiles and 'Thank you!'s, his daughter spoke to camera, to everyone watching at home.

'Men,' she said. 'Spank your wives, your girlfriends, your bosses! And if you find a girl too silly and stubborn to be cured by a spanking, then show her this dashing man's argument.' She smooched Luke on the lips. 'Share the video, post it online, share it through social media – your girls will thank you!'

Luke sure wanted to thank her. Up till now, her bum had been so numb, and her little brain so occupied, that she didn't notice the tent in his pants poking her bottom. He's so disciplined! All this time, her big, sexy bum's been rubbing his manhood, and he didn't say a thing.

'Do you want me to suck your cock?' she asked, trying not to sound pushy.

Luke pressed his finger to her lips, 'I'm going to make love to you.'

And he was kind too! They made love standing, Luke thrusting into her, as spanking erupted across the nation, Kate moaning as a generation of housewives got smacked into existence. Someone chose to air Luke's argument, and Kate's taming, on the super-screen of the city football stadium, and then some others broadcast it on other stadium screens, and then all over the country people uploaded the video onto city square screens. All the nation's televisions, from the one in the pizzeria to the one in the train station, blared out Luke's argument. The prime minister (formerly deputy prime minister, until he spanked his superior into resignation and matrimony) declared the day a public holiday, commemorating the day when fifty percent of the workforce realised their place wasn't at work.

On the stage, Luke held Kate close, thrusting firmly but gently. She bloomed in pleasure, both hot and divine, both from her tamer ravishing her, and from knowing she and her tamer had made the world a better place.

**

As Kate woke from trance, she fell back on the bed. The orgasm still rippled through her. The feeling of absolute submission still swelled in her tummy.

'Thank you! Thank you!' Kate said to Lucy, as Kate rolled around on the bed.

Lucy removed her strap-on. She examined it under the light. 'You barely like men.' She looked at her girlfriend. 'If you met guy like Luke, you'd punch him in the face.'

'It's a fantasy.'

'Of?'

'Submission,' Kate moaned. 'Complete, total, utter submission.' Her hands ran over her body. 'I submit my body, mind, and, mmm, bank account.' Her hands dipped between her legs.

Lucy crawled onto the bed and pushed Kate's hands away from her pussy. 'Why does it have to be a man? I can take your bank account.' She licked Kate's pussy, while Kate gripped the sheets.

Kate panted her response. 'It's not the man. It's, mm, it's about being a woman lead, lead by a man, submitting n-not just to a man – oh, fuck! Thank you! – submitting, subsuming my whole self to, oh! Oh! to a socio-cultural-economically delineated roooole, by the patriarchalhegeMONY!' She screamed in orgasm.

Lucy rested her chin on Kate's chest. 'You could be my housewife.'

'We... need my income,' Kate said, her eyes drifting shut. She had a big week coming up, what with a big operation scheduled and a massive story to cover. It wore her to the nub, but nothing could beat her career as a journalist-cum-neurosurgeon.

Post-script: To those wondering why the framing narrative exists, I just wanted to make clear that even in the world of the piece, the embedded narrative is a sexual fantasy, rather than an endorsement of chauvinist views.