Third Mistake a Charm? 02

Ann and Hilary share. Perhaps a trilogy? A special thanks to Aisie Lynn, my sage.

Cal and Ann spooned the next morning. Cal was bewildered...Ann blissful.

Closer review that morning, Cal found his backside was still marked with the corduroy shaped blisters from the heavy hair brush spanking Ann had so uncharacteristically delivered. On top of those welts where the unmistakable marks of the cane. Long striations crossed his flesh. The wrapping effect was evidenced with a narrow "V" welt that trailed off into remnants of the more intense touch of the cane at the edges of his bottom. The sting was still quite noticeable. Cal found himself with a strange sensation every time he sat down. As an engineer, he tried to analyze and categorize the newfound sensation that followed him constantly. Over the next few weeks, the bulking man morphed from unknowing to embarrassed acceptance.

Ann floated around the house the next morning, making coffee and serving up their traditional smoothie with toast. As she sipped her coffee, she found herself sneaking glimpses at her husband. She was struck by what felt like a different connection with Cal. Ann scoffed at the newfound meld with him. Her relationship with Cal, the engineer and now executive, had long taught her to suppress womanly emotions. Yet, something was different.

Over the next week, they continued their routines as before. But that first glass of wine each night together began with a toast and a deep, lovingly look into each other's eyes. The marks on Cal's bottom gradually faded as the pain transitioned from sting to a curious itch as the welts subsided. His acceptance of what had happened broadened. It was as if a springtime flower had just broken the ground after a long winter sleep, emerging into a new awakening, unsure how the new season would grow. Yet, it was in fact a new season...and a changed love. Cal had received what he outspokenly said he desired. Ann, blossoming into a new realm. Both were on the connecting steps of respect.

*****

Ann turned the corner to finish her walk down their street with the dog. It was a nice afternoon. The intense summer heat was gone, but the warmth of fall in the desert was ever present. Approaching their house, Ann noticed Hilary watering the geraniums that she had just planted. Their relationship was quite friendly but unconnected given Hilary's divorce and lack of a significant other.

Hilary smiled as Ann approached. Ann could not tell if her apprehension was building or if she was just tiring from the walk. In either case, she returned the smile, planning to walk home and remove her tennies as the soles were growing warm from the afternoon heat in the asphalt street.

Having spent the nights since she peered over the fence fondly recalling the familiar sound of a cane on bare flesh, Hilary seized this opportunity to pounce. "Looks like you are finishing a long walk and are in need of a glass of chardonnay?" she asked invitingly.

Ann was on a mission to get home, but the cold glass of chard was an offer she never declined. Ann stopped, broke out in a full smile and said, "Oh, damn that sounds too good an offer to turn down. That would be delightful".

Hilary turned off the hose, meeting Ann at the front door and welcoming her in. The 17 years as next door neighbors, Hilary has welcomed Ann many times into her home. But since Hilary's divorce almost two years ago, Ann was pleasantly welcomed with what she recognized as a new decor of sea foam green and Mediterranean blue hues in the couches and side chairs. Ann couldn't wait to drop into the cushy looking upholstery with that glass of Chardonnay. Hilary took two Riedel stems from her upper bar cabinet and placed them on the granite island with the unmistakable 'clink'. Ann giggled as the wine frig revealed a bottle of Rombauer, from which the foil was adeptly cut back and the cork quickly popped. She gazed upon the bright, straw yellow color in the glass, anxiously awaiting that bright, acidic nose that was so indicative of Rombauer. She was rewarded as she brought the stem to her nose, taking it all in...One of her favorite chard's was about to reveal itself.

Hilary stopped Ann as she almost took the first sip, instead proposing a toast. "Here is to strong wives", perfectly reciting the first of many 'discussion opening' comments she had been rehearsing since their encounter over the fence that night. She continued with her second rehearsed comment, pausing for a moment, "I am so proud of you...and envious", dropping her voice and her eyes to strengthen her point. Again, well rehearsed, she continued, "I used to discipline and punish Ben when we were still married. I have such fond memories", her voice oozing passion.

Ann was stunned. She did not know what to say. The silence between them provided Ann a moment to decide if she could respond. 'Yes, of course', she concluded, now 'how'. Her mind raced through the mental gymnastics she had gone through in processing Cal's desires to transform their relationship. Ann quickly reasoned she had come this far, quite successfully based on the lingering color in Cal's bottom and his distinctly reduced bravado. These realities provided Ann the satisfaction and confidence to know she was on the right track with her husband. She was in it and not about to turn back. "To strong wives", she said confidently, looking directly into Hilary's eyes.

Hilary matched Ann's first sip, moving to give her a hug that broke with a communal sister laugh. "I am so proud of you. I didn't know you had it I you", Hilary said inquiringly. Another sip of chardonnay...

"I didn't know I did either until that night", Ann said, almost with a relief. "I feel so different, and yet so comfortable...normal. What is it with us?" And another sip...

Hilary giggled, "If they only knew how sensual it is. I fought it at first when Ben brought it up. I thought he was seriously bent. Then I began to Google about wives spanking their husbands. I was surprised how much was out there. And what I read began to apply to us. He wanted it. It took me too long, but I ultimately learned he needed it, both from a mental release and intimacy standpoint. After a few clumsy starts, I got my comfort level up, which built my confidence. Then came the satisfaction rush. Our love times grew, built on a bond that nobody else knew about. We were connected in a way we thought nobody else could even fathom. And the best part, I relished those sessions we had. I was in complete control. I could change his behaviors for our mutual benefit."

As Hilary took another sip of wine, she paused, her mind wandering to a place where she yearned to be. "Oh, how I miss that intimacy we had", she sighed.

As Ann finished her glass, Hilary began to refill it before Ann could object, which she wouldn't have anyway. Ann asked, "How much did you see?"

"First I heard it", Hilary said. "Your hushed talk. Then that unmistakable sound of a cane swishing through the air. I looked over the fence to see Cal restrained from the tree, with his pants around his ankles and his shirt rolled up and tightly stuffed in his mouth. I loved that twist...what a great way to gag him a bit...especially with what you were about to dispense. I saw all 12 strokes...and the verbal lessons during the breaks. I admired that the most...your loving lesson in such a teachable moment. That's why I am so proud of you."

Their eyes again met over yet another extended sip of wine that blended into warm and connected smiles. Ann opened further and confided, "That was round three of the evening." A "Mmmm" from Hilary begged for the beginning and middle events.

"I started with my hand and Cal over my knee. Damn, that can sting your palm after a while", she laughed. Hilary's belly laugh indicated she had been there and done that. "When he rolled off my lap, I was prepared to take him to my next level. I made him bring me a new hair brush which I had bought just for this purpose, hand it to me and tell me what he deserved. I gave him the hardest spanking I could muster. I lost count but from the purplish color of his bottom and the tiny blood blisters, I must have spanked him for 10 minutes". Ann broke into a broad grin. "He should have never rolled off my lap that second time. That's what prompted me to take him to that tree after dinner at the club. If this is what he needs, and I enjoy it, I will give it to him."

Hilary chirped, "He certainly got it that night", brought smiles all around.

Their second glass was finished and met by killing the bottle of chardonnay with their third glass each.

Hilary asked, "Was this your first time?" sounding hesitant.

"It was...but it won't be our last. I really felt comfortable. And it has changed his demeanor which is something he has hinted and, from what I've have read, both of us will benefit".

"So you used your hand, a hair brush and then that cane?" Hilary asked, which brought a nod from Ann.

Hilary paused, thinking if she really wanted to reopen the door to a part of her life that was still painful. The third glass of wine helped break through that barrier and she asked Ann, "Can I show you something?" Ann's third glass helped elicit a "why not?" "Come on", Hilary said encouragingly as she bounded out of the cushy side chair that had begun to feel like a napping spot.

Hilary led Ann down a hallway back to a bedroom at the rear of her house. It was full of stuff. An ironing board, small rack of clothes readied for the next pick up, a few boxes of books, a sturdy armless chair, a sewing table and something covered with a pile of blankets. Hilary navigated her way through the stuff...collapsing the ironing board and standing it up. The boxes of books found their way under the sewing table onto which were heaped the blankets, revealing what Ann thought was an exercise bench...something between a pommel horse and a weight bench...although it was curiously tilted. She was perplexed as Hilary tugged and pulled it into the newly opened space in the middle of the room. It was covered with soft leather...almost a chamois. The leather was colored with water stains. At the four corners of the bench Ann discovered fine leather, belt like straps compete with holes in the leather and buckles. Hilary reached under the high end of the bench and slid out two extensions that snapped into place extending about 16" from the highest end of the bench. It was then that Ann connected the dots what was in front of her. Relying on the stories she had read and her research, Ann concluded this was a spanking bench. Ann paused as Hilary ran her hands across the leather...then fondled the arm and ankle restraints. Ann watched as Hilary catapulted into a different mindset and listened intently as Ann began, softly:

It was easy to conclude when Ben needed time over this bench, and we both knew it. I was happy to help him, help me. I would plan my day to complete all my errands by early afternoon, concluding with readying this room for Ben's arrival home. I made sure the shutters were opened just enough to let light in, but sufficiently private given what would take place. The lighting was key to make this room homey and inviting, not stark and scary. These floor lamps provided the intimacy and warmth necessary to set the right mood. After showering, I would go through my selection of corsets and bustiers to pick the one that looked like I felt. Blue for seductive, red for spirited and black for wicked.

With that, she opened a drawer in a chest of drawers in the corner to reveal a rainbow of undergarments. Some lacy and others appearing quite sturdy.

My selection of stockings continued my mental mantra....nude for a more vanilla session, colored for a play session, black for discipline, and surprisingly, white seamed for punishment. I loved my white sheer seamed stockings best. When paired with my open toe 4" heels, it would drive Ben crazy as those too, were his favorite.

Again, Ann was struck by the similarity to Cal's kink for seamed white stockings...she was listening ever more intently as Hilary continued.

When Ben would come home and see me in a pencil skirt, white seams and 4" heels, he would get really horny, despite the fact he knew full well before he was allowed any satisfactions, he would certainly endure a lengthy and quite severe punishment on this bench.

Ann fondled the straps at the corners of the bench.

I always bound Ben's ankles first since it gave me an extended opportunity to look him straight in the eye when I wanted to deliver my message why he was about to be punished. It also afforded me the delightful chance to run my hand up this thigh, over his bottom with increasing pressure as I continued up the small of his back, ever so delicately bending him over the bench.

As Hilary paused, the hint of a smile emerged.

I fastened his hands here. As I did, I made it a point to touch his fingers...they were always cold...it took me several months after I started disciplining Ben over this bench to learn why...he told me that the apprehension was the most difficult time in a session...more than enduring the fiery pain. I learned that getting his mind prepared for what was about to happen was our most intimate moment during a session...I learned to lower my voice...to talk to him at a much slower pace, almost whispering what I would be doing next. I would pause between words so I could listen to his breathing. When his breaths transitioned from a fast, deep breaths to a more normal pattern, I would fasten this final strap across his lower back, completing his preparation. I keep my 'friends' here...

Drawing back a sliding closet door and sliding the winter clothes to one side, Hilary revealed an array of wooden brushes and paddles, leather crops and straps and three canes. Hilary moved to the closet and reached for a 24" leather strap, removing it from a peg at the back of the closet.

This was my favorite. I made Ben make it for me. It used to be a shoulder strap from an old carryon suiter that I took on the plane before roller bags. The rubber padding became hard and cracked off. When I went to have it replaced, I accidently doubled it back on itself and "voila", it sung to me...I had Ben stitch the shoulder part together forming the business end of the strap...when I told him to stiffen the handle portion, he stitched in a piece of coaxial cable into the handle as he sewed it together. When I told him I wanted a wrist strap at the handle end, he wrapped it with this leather boot lace and finished with this wrist piece I can put my hand through and double back as I grasp the handle.

With that, Hilary slipped her hand through the loop and clamped down on the handle. Hilary looked Ann in the eye and winked.

I love this strap. I could use over the course of 30 minutes and deliver 50 to 200 strokes, varying from light slaps to smart strokes that would wrap midway around his hips, which he told me were quite painful, to welt inducing blows that he would have for a week. As part of my dominance of Ben, I would have him oil all my leather friends, telling him to provide extra oil and care to this strap. While it was not the most intense of my friends, it was by far the most versatile.

I am quite adept in both forehand and backhand strokes. I can lay one welt right next to another...or one after another on top of each other in order to make my point. Four to six on top of each other really drove home my point with intense severity. I really liked how I could make the business end wrap around Ben's far side of his bottom and thighs onto his hips. I could tell he was getting to the breaking point when he would whimper as I landed a wrapping stroke...and I delighted in repeating that wrap, over and over, late in our session when I knew his skin was on fire...I used to pause after 10 or 12 wrapping blows to listen to him gasp to catch his breath...he learned over the years it was key to control his breathing during a session...he learned he needed to slow his breathing and work to keep it deep and measured. Likewise, I learned to measure my strokes to time with his breathing, always keeping a little bit ahead of him to intensify the discipline and heighten the effect.

I would always end every session with one of my canes. I would use the heavier cane to add a deep and intense message. But I really liked the thin, delrin cane. It was super easy to wield, I can aim it right where it needs to go and the welt it leaves is unmistakable...that's what I recognized that night I saw you and Cal...the sound of the cane swishing through the air and landing on hot, puffy male bottom.

With that, Hilary popped out of her trance-like dream. Hilary's shrug, raised eyebrow and tilt of her head signaled Ann that she had revealed her most intimate and personal secret.

A pause lingered, broken by Hilary's offer, "would you like to see if this strap is as enjoyable for you as it was for me?"

Ann was deeply touched by Hilary's mesmerizing recount of how she would discipline and punish her former husband. The story strengthened the confidence Ann had built leading her to extend a hug to Hilary, topped off by accepting the strap with gratitude and pride.

"I will put it to good use. And come to think of it, tonight since Cal has been quite moody and uppity recently. Thank you." Ann glanced at her watch and noticed an hour had gone by consuming the Rombauer and the trek with Hilary down memory lane. "I really need to scoot since I have some prep work to do before Cal gets home, and its not on dinner", Ann beamed.

Hilary took her last, mentally rehearsed opportunity bolding asking Ann, "if ever...", but she could not finish the question.

Ann got the message loud and clear. Despite her newfound strength, talent and the wine, she couldn't quite take the bait. "Perhaps...Yes, perhaps", she quipped.

Hilary and Ann walked back down the hallway and to the front door. Another long hug concluded with a deep eye to eye connection and warm smiles. As Ann turned to leave, she again thanked Hilary for the wine and loaning her the strap. "I'll let you know how this goes". Hilary wantonly nodded, chirping "I'll expect it, sister".

*****

Cal looked at Ann's stocking clad toes in her 4" heels as he lay across his wife's lap, soaking in the hair brush as it rained down on his bottom. Ann applied it smartly, if not delicately. Cal's mood and demeanor was, by his own judgement, deserving of this discipline. As his discomfort grew, so did Ann's awareness of the pain she was inflicting. She continued wielding the hair brush slowing ever so slightly allowing Cal to accept the fiery result. As Cal's threshold neared, Ann's pace transformed from steady to measured but with significantly more strength. "These spanks.....are meant to ensure.....you know without a doubt.....your attitude....is not acceptable.....and I won't tolerate.....that behavior.....in the future." With the last of the 8, arm wrenching strokes, Ann stopped the spanking. "Get off my lap and stand with your nose in the corner. You deserve more and your discipline will continue in a different manner".

Cal was quite surprised. His bottom burned and he was ready to be finished. Given his trip outside under the tree last time, fear arose in his mind. "Clearly she would not take me out to that tree in the twilight, would she?" He could hear her high heels walking to their closet and opening a drawer. The heels returned and seemed to settle in an arm chair in their bedroom.

Silence...

It was deafening...

And interminable...

After what seemed like an hour, Ann spoke. "What will happen now is but the next step in your transformation into a more caring and responsible husband...While this implement is not new, it is new to you", pausing. "I got it from a friend of mine".