Chapter 16
Chris
I made my way down the front hall to Mark and Megan’s living room and entered to find exactly what Mark had described on the phone. Seeing it in person hit differently, though.
Megan was bent over the arm of the couch, her skirt folded up over her back, her white cotton panties pulled down to her knees.
Her bare bottom was pale and vulnerable, already tensed in anticipation of what was coming.
And there, on the couch, sat my wife—my beautiful, wayward Valerie—her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with horror.
“Thank you for calling me, Mark,” I said, keeping my voice level despite the anger simmering in my chest. “I’ve been looking for her for two hours.”
“Found her here about half an hour ago,” Mark replied, the paddle hanging loosely in his hand. “Megan knew better than to harbor her without calling you.”
I nodded, then pulled out my phone. “I need to make a quick call before we get started.” I dialed Mrs. Chen’s number, watching Valerie’s face go even paler as she realized who I must be calling.
“Mrs. Chen? It’s Chris Pelletier.”
The woman’s calm voice replied, as clear and reassuring as ever.
“Chris, hello. You found Valerie?”
“Yes, I found her. She’s at her friend Megan’s house, just like you thought. Megan’s husband Mark called me.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Chen replied. “Tutorials can sometimes have this sort of effect. You remember what I said about her reaction to the new panties?”
“Sure,” I replied, my eyes fixed on Valerie’s reddening face and panicked eyes. “Valerie’s response to that kind of training is definitely really strong. What do you recommend for the situation now? Mark’s getting ready to paddle Megan in front of us. Is that a good approach?”
Valerie’s eyes were locked on me, her whole body trembling as I listened to Mrs. Chen’s response.
My eyes wandered over to where Mark stood over the softly whimpering Megan.
The rightness of the scene as a model for traditional marriage strengthened my resolve to bring the same kind of understanding to my own home.
“I see,” I said into the phone. “That makes sense. Thank you, Mrs. Chen.” I hung up and looked back at my wife.
“Mrs. Chen thinks it’s very appropriate for you to watch Megan’s punishment,” I said quietly. “And she thinks you should watch it wearing nothing but those special panties she had you put on today.”
A sob tore from Valerie’s throat. “Chris, please—”
“After that,” I continued, my voice hardening, “I’m going to punish you right here as well. Mark and Megan are going to watch, just as you’re watching now. Mrs. Chen believes you need to understand the consequences of running away from your husband.”
I turned to Mark. “If you don’t mind waiting a moment while Valerie prepares herself?”
“Not at all,” Mark said. “Take your time.”
I looked at my wife, who sat frozen on the couch, her face a mask of shame and terror. “Stand up, Valerie. Take off everything except those panties Mrs. Chen gave you.”
“Here?” The word came out as barely a whisper. “In front of Mark?”
“You should have thought about the consequences before you ran away,” I said. “Now stand up and do as you’re told.”
Her hands shook as she rose to her feet. Tears streamed down her face as her fingers went to the buttons of her blouse. I watched her fumble with them, each one seeming to take an eternity. The blouse fell away, revealing her modest white bra.
“Everything,” I reminded her. “Except the panties.”
She unhooked her bra with trembling fingers, her face burning crimson as it fell away. Her small breasts were exposed, nipples hard from fear or arousal—probably both. Then her skirt, her slip, until she stood in just those naughty backless panties Mrs. Chen had described to me on the phone.
The front was delicate white lace, almost innocent. But when she turned slightly, I could see how the back was completely open, with just thin strips around her thighs, leaving her bottom absolutely bare. The welts from the switch were still faintly visible across her pale cheeks.
“Sit back down,” I commanded. “Keep your hands in your lap. Watch what happens when wives make poor choices.”
Valerie sank onto the couch, her arms instinctively moving to cover her breasts before my look made her lower them. She sat there nearly naked, her bottom pressed against the leather cushion, her face a study in mortification.
I turned to Mark and nodded. “Please go ahead.”
* * *
Valerie
I sat there nearly naked, my body trembling with shame and fear as Mark raised the paddle. I almost cried out just at the sight of the terrible wooden blade with the air holes that I knew were there to make it go faster, hit harder, hurt Megan’s poor little bottom more.
For a moment I thought time might stop, or Mark might just lower the horrid thing slowly to his side.
Then I had to bite my lip to keep from sobbing as the paddle started downward, moving fast—too fast to see, almost, I thought.
It came down. The first swat landed with a sharp crack that made me flinch violently.
Megan cried out, her body jerking forward against the couch.
“One, sir,” she gasped.
The realization hit me with a flare of heat that seemed to come all the way from my toes: she was counting without being told. My stomach dropped as I understood what that meant—this wasn’t even close to the first time. Megan got paddled often enough that she knew the routine by heart.
More heat flooded between my legs at the thought. My practically sister, my modest, proper friend, bent over regularly for her husband’s discipline.
“A wife’s duty,” Mark said calmly, lifting the paddle, then tapping it against his free hand with what seemed deliberate slowness, “is to support her husband’s authority.”
“Yes, sir,” Megan sobbed.
Mark raised the horrid wooden blade again and brought it down hard. The gunshot crack echoed in the corners of the living room.
“Two, sir,” Megan gasped.
I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t close my eyes. My hands gripped my thighs as I watched the paddle connect again.
“Three, sir.”
“She must never undermine him,” Mark continued. Another swat. “Even when she thinks she’s helping.”
“Four, sir.” Megan’s voice was breaking now. Her little bottom already wore a bright pink hue.
My pussy throbbed against the leather couch. The shameful wetness was spreading, and I knew—God help me, I knew—that if anyone looked, they would see the evidence darkening the lace of my obscene panties.
Five more swats fell, each one punctuated by Megan’s counting. Her bottom was turning deep red, the paddle leaving distinct marks across both cheeks.
“You should know,” Mark said conversationally to Chris, pausing with the paddle raised, “Megan gets very aroused when she’s punished. It’s the sign of a wife who knows her place, deep down inside.”
“No!” Megan wailed, her whole body shaking with mortification. “Please don’t—”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Mark continued, ignoring her protests. “It’s how submissive girls are built. Their bodies respond to discipline.”
Chris’s voice came from beside me, quiet but firm. “Valerie gets aroused too. I’ve felt how wet she gets.”
I wanted to die. Wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole. My face burned so hot I thought I might actually faint. He was telling them—telling Mark and Megan—about my body’s shameful responses.
“Interesting,” Mark said. “Have you taken her after a punishment?”
My breath stopped in my chest.
“I haven’t yet,” Chris replied. “But I plan to.”
“I recommend it,” Mark said. “Usually right after works well. Sometimes I don’t even take Megan to the bedroom—just keep her bent over the arm of this couch and have her right here.”
A small, desperate sound escaped Megan’s throat.
“If she’s behaved particularly badly,” Mark continued, and I heard something darker enter his voice, “I take this cute ass of hers that way. Helps her understand that her husband has access to every part of her body. I don’t know how you feel about anal, but there’s not much that conveys the truth of traditional marriage as well as a man’s cock in his wife’s backside. ”
Megan sobbed openly now, her humiliation complete. And I—God forgive me—felt my pussy clench hard at his words. The image filled my mind unbidden: bent over this same couch arm, Chris behind me, his cock pushing into my—
“Ten, sir,” Megan gasped as another swat landed.
The paddling continued for what felt like an eternity. By the time Mark finally stopped at twenty, Megan’s bottom was crimson and covered in overlapping paddle marks. She lay limp over the couch arm, crying softly.
“Corner time,” Mark said. “Hands on your head. Panties down and skirt up so Valerie can see what happens to disobedient wives.”
I watched Megan straighten up, her eyes fixed on the floor. She shuffled to the corner, her movements stiff and painful. She faced the wall, placed her hands on her head, and stood there with her punished bottom on display.
Then Chris’s voice cut through the silence. “Mark, may I borrow your paddle?”
“Of course,” Mark said, handing it over.
“No!” The word burst from my throat. “Please, Chris, please don’t… not with that… not with the paddle… sir… please?”
“You ran away from me,” Chris said, his voice hard. “You hid at your friend’s house instead of coming home like you were supposed to. You need to learn what happens when wives disobey, just like Megan did. And Megan got paddled because of you, too—you’ve earned an even harder lesson.”
“I’ll be good,” I sobbed. “I promise, I’ll go home right now, I’ll do whatever you want…”
“Stand up,” he commanded. “Bend over the arm of the couch where Megan just was.”
My legs barely held me as I stood. I moved to the couch on trembling legs, the place Megan had just vacated on the upholstery still warm. As I bent forward, I felt the obscene panties shift, felt how completely exposed my bottom was.
“I’m going to leave these panties on,” Chris said. “I want to see how they frame your ass while I punish you.”
“They’re adorable,” Mark commented. “I think Megan needs a pair. Just looking at Valerie’s ass in them makes me want to fuck my wife’s bottom tonight.”
“Mark!” Megan wailed from the corner. I raised my head to see that she had turned her face over her shoulder, her eyes bright with tears. “Sir… please… it hurts so much…”
“You know you come like a freight train when I have my cock in your ass, Meg. Don’t give me this false modesty. And you’ve been a very bad girl today, too. Now turn that nose back to the wall. You’ll hear Valerie getting it, but you’re not allowed to watch.”
Megan had a woeful pout on her face at her husband’s harsh words, but I thought, to my mingled distress and confusion, that I could see need in her eyes, too—the same kind of wayward need that afflicted me so severely.
For a moment, her eyes met mine. Megan’s mouth twitched to the side and her forehead creased.
My tummy did a flip, because I knew what my friend’s look said.
She was getting aroused at the thought of being present for my punishment.
Maybe her pussy had just clenched at the sight of my bottom in the awful backless panties—or the thought of my husband fucking my anus the way her husband did hers.
Then Megan turned back to the wall. I gripped the couch cushions, my whole body shaking. Behind me, I heard Chris testing the paddle, the whistle of it cutting through the air.
“Start with firm swats,” Mark’s voice came. “Not too fast. Let her feel each one.”
The first impact knocked the breath from my lungs. Pain exploded across my bottom, so much worse than the switch had been. I screamed.
“Count,” Chris said.
“O-one,” I gasped. “One, sir.”
“Make sure you’re covering both cheeks evenly,” Mark instructed. “And don’t forget the sit spots—that’s where it really teaches a lesson.”
Another swat landed, lower this time. “Two, sir!”
“Good,” Mark said. “You’re a natural at this.”