Story from Phoenix 50.
The Bottom Line
The credit card statement dropped through the letter-box. Jane picked it up with some trepidation. When George saw it he would know that she had spent a lot of money over the limit he'd set for her. She hoped against hope that he would not notice... but he would! "An act of gross disobedience!" he'd call it. She remembered the last time he'd said that. How she remembered!
"You must learn to do as you are told! I've spoken to you before, but it doesn't seem to do any good. Now I'll have to give you something to help you remember that you don't disobey me. Go and get the cane! I won't tolerate such gross disobedience!"
She knew where the cane was kept... in his wardrobe. He'd showed it to her before they got married, and he'd said that she would feel it across her bottom, but of course she'd not believed him. Women of twenty-three didn't get caned... it was all a joke. Of course she knew that he was a 'bottom' man, a man who loved playing with women's bottoms. Just after she'd got the job in the typing pool, one of the other girls had told her that George liked bottoms, and as she'd long ago decided that she was going to marry a rich man, she'd bought that very tight skirt so that her bottom cheeks were on display. That skirt had done the trick! He'd soon had her in his office as his private secretary, and the very first day he'd come up behind her and cupped her two cheeks in his hands, and stroked and caressed them. As she'd not objected... he was very rich and very masterful, he'd gone further the next day, then further, until it was his practice to have her standing in front of him, and then sliding his hands up her skirt, and playing with her bottom! She'd worn tinier and tinier knickers until they had virtually disappeared. He'd shown his appreciation by the rises she'd received. One day he'd asked her to stay late, to do something confidential! ...and when everybody was out of the office, he beckoned her over to him, pulled her down over his knees, and slid her skirt and slip right up, so that her bottom was completely exposed! He pulled the vestigial knickers up and up until the slender gusset had disappeared into the valley between her cheeks, and he'd stroked her globes. It was really quite exciting. Then he started to pat, then spank, the lovely targets. It didn't hurt, it was so gentle. But the caning four weeks ago was anything but gentle!
She'd brought the cane to him, and he'd told her to bend over the table, holding tight to the other end. He laid the cane down beside her, and peeled back her skirt and slip. She was wearing French knickers, and impatiently, he pulled them down as far as he could. He stroked her bottom apparently in appreciation. "That cane is just a joke", she thought, but then he picked it up and swished it through the air. It gave a sinister 'hiss'... "He won't use it... he's trying to scare me!". But then there was another 'hiss', which ended abruptly in a violent 'crack', as the cane struck the creamy flesh of the bottom offered to it. Jane screamed in agony, and let go of the table to get up.
"Get back where you were told. This is your first time, so there will be only another five. But I don't want to hear all that noise. Much more noise like that, and you'll get another half dozen".
Jane collapsed on the table and the cane cut her again. It was AWFUL! She couldn't bear it. The pain was fantastic... just as if a red hot poker had been laid across her so tender bottom. Once more she tried to get up, but he held her down on the table.
"I've told you once, I don't like that noise. Any more and you will regret it. This is your last warning. Do you understand?"
Jane didn't... couldn't, reply. He slapped her bottom with his open hand.
"Well, did you understand?"
Feebly she said, "Yes, Sir".
Why she added 'Sir', she didn't know, but somehow it seemed appropriate. The cane bit hard into her fleshy bottom four times more, seeming to wrap itself right round the fleshy nates. Somehow, Jane managed to suppress her screams of pain, so that only stifled grunts could be heard. When the sixth stroke had fallen, she lay there supine, wondering if more was to come. It was not! Her punishment was over, though George stroked the scarlet-turning-purple flesh, in appreciation.
"Get up now! You may go and lie down... but you will be down here, properly dressed, in time to get our dinner. Just make sure that you do as you are told in the future. I shan't let you off so lightly again!"
All that was four weeks ago, and the marks of the cane had long faded. (She used to look at her bottom in the mirror when George had gone to the office.) Oddly enough, the memory of the terrible pain and indignity had faded too, and though she was not looking forward to another session of bending over and being caned, she thought that after all, it had not been so bad... and perhaps she did deserve it. It was a small price to pay to be married to a man as rich as George. Still, it might be a good idea to hide the tell-tale document. Where to put it? The obvious place was the file in which it would be kept, and then tell George that it had not arrived. After a few days he would forget it, and perhaps never check on it. So that was what Jane did... foolish girl!
George arrived home at his usual time, and after kissing her, he asked her if any post had arrived. "No, nothing today!" Jane said brightly. "That's odd. The credit card statement usually arrives on this date. I'll get on to the bank and give them hell tomorrow. They're trying to catch me out with late payment, and they'll charge me a devil of an interest!" Jane was in a quandary. If she kept quiet and he found out from the bank that the statement had, in fact, arrived on time, he would be furious about her trivial action, as well as furious about her spending. She decided that a confession was the best thing to do.
"Oh, the bank statement!" she said chirpily, "I didn't think you meant that. It did arrive today, but I filed it right away. I know you like things neat and tidy, and I didn't think you would want to be troubled by it!"
This silly statement caused George's eyebrows to rise in astonishment. After all, he would have to pay the demand.
"Well, just get it out and let me see it. I'll write a cheque right away, and that will be done!"
Jane handed him the file, and held her breath. She prayed that he would miss her extravagance, but it was not to be:
"What's this... you've overspent by £105. What on earth do you mean by it? You know your limit!"
"I've bought myself some new undies and a lovely shorty nighty! They're silk, and I know you'll love them. I was going to put the nighty on tonight when we go to bed, to surprise you".
"You've certainly surprised me! You have not only disobeyed me, you've tried to deceive me. There's only one thing for it. Go and get the cane!". "But..."
"Don't argue! Go and get the cane! And white you're upstairs strip off completely. I don't want to see a stitch on you when you come down! Now, be quick!"
Sullenly, Jane went up to the bedroom, undressed, and then took the cane downstairs. She handed it to George.
"Over the table!"
He swished the cane experimentally. Jane flinched, but tried to relax all her bottom muscles, to reduce the pain. She had found that, if she tensed up, the cane seemed to hurt even more. Six strokes followed one another, in a slow stately fashion. Like last time, it was agony, her arse feeling on fire. George paused. "That was all!" thought Jane, hopefully, and began to get up.
"How dare you move, 'til I tell you! Just stay there".
George balanced the cane across the burning buttocks, and left it there.
"Now, I'm just going to make a 'phone call. You will stay there, and that cane must be in the same position when I come back. If it's fallen to the floor, it will be all the worse for you!"
He went out, leaving a suffering wife, wondering if she could stay still long enough. Her poor bottom was on fire! She had to move! It was agony to stay still... but she feared the consequences. He'd probably give her another hiding. She desperately wanted to stroke her poor bum, to relieve the terrible pain, but she knew that if she did, she would almost certainly dislodge the cane, and heaven knows what George would do then. It was almost too much to bear, when her mentor returned. He picked up the cane and awarded her another six strokes. Agony piled on agony! Jane could not contain herself – she cried and shrieked:
"OW... OW... Stop... stop... please... please stop! OW... OW... I promise I'll behave... I promise... OW... OW... OW..."
But, to no avail. Her master laid into the reddened bottom harder with each stroke. Eventually, he stopped.
"Right... now I hope that has taught you a lesson which you won't forget. Upstairs, wash yourself, and calm down. Put on the new nighty, and those black high-heeled shoes I like, and come down to get dinner!"
Jane limped upstairs, rubbing her sore bottom, and then washed her face in cold water. She put on the new nighty – it was in silk, but in such fine silk, that it hid nothing. Her secret parts were clearly visible, surrounded by her full bush. It was so very low cut, that her full breasts were barely covered, her nipples being just below the frilly lace at the top. She put the shoes on with difficulty, partly because the heels were so high, but also because she did not feel she could sit down to do up the ankle straps, her bottom was too tender. The shoes made walking difficult. She looked at herself in the long mirror of her wardrobe. When she turned, the state of her rump was clearly visible... the nightdress was so short that any movement caused it to rise up and display the bright red globes, criss-crossed by the twelve weals awarded to her by the punishment which she now realised she had richly deserved.
When she got downstairs, George ordered her to turn round and bend over:
"Splendid... a lovely sight". He stroked her bottom appreciatively. "Now, walk around the room".
The abject woman did as she was told. She was in no state to be disobedient.
"Get your shoulders back! That's it. I want to see your tits".
George feasted his eyes on the delightful sight. His wife's tits stood out proudly, the nipples forcing out the thin silk. Even better, the high-heeled shoes made walking unstable, so that the globes of the bottom he had dealt with, bounced and swayed delightfully, being well displayed by the flimsy nighty, which lifted with every movement.
When George was satisfied with the feast before him, he told her to get dinner. This was easy to prepare... she had got his favourite meal virtually ready before he'd arrived home, hoping to put him in a good mood if he just happened to see the bank statement. She thought that she could eat her dinner while standing up, but George insisted that she sat down, and moreover, he had provided a hard wooden chair for her. Just before the meal was finished, he dropped a bombshell:
"Frank and Mary will be round for drinks in about a quarter of an hour!"
"Oooh. Well, I'll have to go and get properly dressed".
"Oh no! You stay just as you are! You'll open the door when they come, and you'll serve them drinks as any good hostess would!"
"Oh, please let me dress!"
"Is this more disobedience? Perhaps you should go over the table again. Another six? Another twelve?"
"Oh no, no, no, not that! I'll do just as you say!"
"Good... perhaps you are learning. Now, get the meal tidied up – put things in the dishwasher, and get ready for our guests".
It took poor Jane much longer to clear the table and get things away, than it normally would, as she had to move as gently as possible. Nevertheless, she was just ready when the doorbell rang. She looked piteously at George:
"Please, please, please will you go?''
George picked up the cane and flexed it in his hands.
"You've obviously not learned that you must do as you are told. Six more on that bottom? Is that what you want?"
"Oh no..." and Jane could not get to that door quickly enough!
The guests were old friends of George's, whom Jane had met several times. Both were older than she, probably George's age, about forty-five. Frank was a short, dapper, little man, always neat and tidy, whilst Mary was tall. Well-built, some would say statuesque. She carried with her a state of complete calm and control. Jane felt that, in that marriage, it was the wife who was the dominant partner. Neither seemed at all surprised at Jane's exiguous dress, nor the state of her rear when they sat down to the drinks which Jane distributed. However, they both looked with interest at the well-punished bottom, so amply displayed, as Jane played the perfect hostess. After some idle chit-chat about the weather, and the state of the country, Frank astonished Jane by addressing George directly:
"You've had to discipline Jane, I see. A bit severe weren't you? What did you give her? A dozen strokes?"
"Exactly right. She was not only disobedient, she tried to deceive me as well".
"Oh well, that'll never do! I take a very strict line about lying. These women will do it! Only the other day I found Mary out in a silly lie, so of course she had to bend over for six of the best on the bare".
Jane could hardly believe her ears. Mary caned! The two men discussing it as if it were a quite usual thing! Perhaps it was! Certainly, Mary offered no contribution to the discussion. Indeed, the men chatted as if the two women were not there – or at best, as if they were of no consequence.
"She'd bought that nighty without my permission..." George was saying, when Jane brought her thoughts back to the conversation. "...mark you, I quite like it. When she walks, it swings quite beautifully. Jane, walk round so that our guests get a good view of your bottom!"
It was a thoroughly obedient Jane who paraded around the room, her nighty swinging freely to display her beaten rump. Frank and George discussed her bottom like sportsmen discussing a particularly interesting golf shot:
"I see you've not gone for the parallel scheme..."
"No... well, it's difficult when you give more than six. Anyway, I think it has more effect if you overlay strokes..."
Jane switched off, not wanting to listen to this conversation. Mary sat mute and calm, though when she caught Jane's eye, she smiled a little smile at her. Drifts of the conversation caught Jane's ear:
"...Prefer a tawse..."
"...Never used one myself. I've always found a good whippy cane very satisfactory".
This last was from George. "Always"... who else had he caned?
The evening wore on, and eventually the guests departed. Jane put the used glasses in the kitchen, and they went up to bed, her behind aching dreadfully. She took off her shoes, and was about to get into bed, when she received another command:
"Bend over at the end of the bed... I want to see that bottom".
"Oh no..." Jane thought, "Not another hiding''. But she did as she was told, standing at the end of the bed, bending over with her hands on the bed itself. To her astonishment, she found that George wanted to stroke her poor bottom, something which he did very gently and soothingly. Of course, the pain did not go, but the feeling was comforting. Jane relaxed, and when pressure from the hands indicated that she should open her legs, she did so very willingly. Skillful hands slid between the cheeks, and a finger reached her love button. She moaned with pleasure at the massage. There was a pause, then she felt him enter her! Surely, he was bigger than ever before! And longer! And the strokes were more powerful, going deeper and deeper! She soon came to a series of shuddering orgasms, the last being reinforced by George's powerful thrusts and stream of ejaculate.
Jane collapsed into bed, tired but unable to sleep, for the thoughts of the events of the day (and the pain in her bottom!) kept her mind active. Should she stay with George and risk frequent punishment, or should she leave him? What were the pros and cons? The benefits were great. A rich husband, a good house, plenty of food, help around the house whenever she wanted it... in essence, security and comfort! The costs were only an occasional caning! There seemed no problem. She would stay. To use a favourite expression of her husband's, she would take the course where the benefits outweighed the costs. That was the bottom line! Exhausted but pleased, she drifted off into sleep.