Tardy

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My husband, Ed, is a wonderful man. Better than most by most standards. He is loving and caring, and faithful. There is little about him not to like. Yet he does have his problems.

"Ed," you better get up. You'll be late again if you don't." I growled. Ed is not a morning person. On the weekends, he sleeps in until 9 or 10 and doesn't get going until at least noon. On workdays it's even worse. Trying to peel him out of bed is a daily chore.

"If you don't get in that shower now, I'm going to get in. You're not going to make me late." Getting Ed to work in the morning was worse than getting a second grader off to school.

Well, he did take his shower, and I got mine, and he was still getting dressed as I got out. I thought women were the "high maintenance" sex. He didn't have that much to put on, he didn't have to do his hair (other than drag a comb through it), he didn't have to put on makeup, and he didn't have to worry about jewelry beyond the wedding ring and watch he wore. Yet he could take close to a half hour getting these few items on.

We made breakfast about the same time. I was through with mine while he was still dawdling over the newspaper. "Slothman," I warned him, using my pet name for him, "you better get a move on, or you will be late." I left as he was just folding his paper. His breakfast was still half eaten. I shook my head in exasperation.

I put these thoughts out of my head as I concentrated on the commute and my job. Things were OK until just before lunch. My cell phone rang, and I answered it. It was Ed's sister Eileen. She works at the same company as Ed in another department and was partially responsible for Ed getting his job there. At least she picked him up and got him to the interview on time.

"Marge," she said, "I got something I need to talk to you about. Do you have time to talk?" I closed the door to my office. Eileen seldom calls me at work unless there is something worth talking about.

"OK Eileen, what is it?"

"It's Ed. I've heard some people talking in the break room. Ed is in trouble here at work. It seems that he was called into his boss' office this morning when he finally got here. Ed's known for his attendance problems. Rumor is, one more late morning, and he's fired."

I sat there in silence.

"Marge, are you there?"

"Yes I am." I had to collect my thoughts. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, I do. You better straighten up that husband of yours or he'll be standing in the unemployment line next week."

"Easier said than done. I've been on his case ever since we've been married. It just doesn't seem to get better."

Eileen laughed, "My brother is a wonderful person. He'll give you the shirt off his back, when he gets around to it. But he does have some very annoying habits. Mom had a way to deal with them."

I sat again in silence for a while until my patience got the better of me. "Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess." I was probably more cross than I should have been, but the thought of trying to carry the house and everything else on just my salary made me a little sharp.

"Whenever Ed refused to toe the line, mom spanked him."

"Well that works well for little boys, but Ed's a grown man. He's too old to spank now."

"You think so?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Mom spanked Ed for as long as I've lived there. It wasn't until he moved out which was about a year before he married you that mom stopped spanking him."

I nearly dropped the phone. My mouth flapped, but somehow a sentence marched out of it in spite of my shock. "He … he … was like 23 years old. He was a grown man even then."

I could feel Eileen's evil grin even over the phone, "Well, some boys never grow up. They never outgrow their need for a good spanking when they deserve it."

"Wait a minute, are you suggesting I spank Ed?"

"Well, it's either you make him stand with a sore butt or he stands without one on the unemployment line. That's the way I see it."

"Thanks," I said somewhat shakily, "I'll call you." I hung up. The latter part of that exchange was mere temporizing. What would I call her about? What would I report?

I did call her back. "Eileen, what do you know about spanking men. I mean, how do I go about it? Have you ever done it?" I was shocked that I was able to ask such a forward question. I was even more shocked by the answer.

"It's not all that hard. I've been spanking Tom since our fourth or fifth date." I always wondered why my brother-in-law was so well-behaved. "It started out as play. It was something that turned him on. I didn't understand it at first, but there was no arguing with the erection he had every time he got off my lap. After a while, I got to enjoy it too, and my panties would be soaked after paddling his butt."

"It also had a practical side. I remember laying into him one time when he was late picking me up. I don't think that he liked having his favorite activity turned into something serious. I was just angry enough not to care. What I did like was how nice he was to me after the spanking."

"Don't tell Tom this, but I rarely ever get angry with him. I just make something up and pretend to be angry so I can give him this kind of spanking. Now I do it just to make him be extra nice to me. I tell you, it's a very effective method of behavior modification."

I had a lot to think of driving home after work. I was surprised at the relationship between Eileen and Tom. I would have never guessed that my ultra-masculine (not "macho" just manly and very sexy) brother-in-law spends a fair amount of his time naked and draped over Eileen's lap. I never considered myself to be a voyeur, but I would like to see that scene.

However, I had more immediate problems: Ed. I knew what I had to do, I just couldn't figure out how to do it. I got home about an hour before Ed. I rushed to my computer, booted it up and Googled "spanking." I got millions of hits. Well, it certainly seemed to be a very popular topic. I narrowed down my topic based on some things Eileen said in our conversations, and even then it was way too much to read in an hour.

I found a few articles and a couple of stories to bolster my confidence. That was the key: confidence! If I could feel good about doing this -- if I could be absolutely certain that this was the right thing to do, then I could do it.

Ed got home at his usual time. Like a general planning a counter attack against an amphibious landing, I decided I needed to meet him head on as he waded ashore rather than let him establish a beachhead.

"Hi honey," he said.

"Don't honey me." I replied. "What time did you get to work this morning?"

"Wh-what difference does that make?" he asked defensively.

"A lot of difference." I said, planting my feet apart and putting my fisted hands on my hips. I had just enough anger to overpower my fear. "Answer my question!" I demanded.

"Oh, I don't know 9, maybe 9:30."

"For a job that's supposed to start at 8:30?" It was a question I didn't expect an answer to.

I continued my attack, "You're going to get your ass canned!" I let a small smile escape to my lips as I thought of the inadvertent pun. "What are you intending to do about your tardiness?" I said wading in to engage him toe-to-toe. I hadn't noticed, but I was literally in his face. It didn't concern me at the moment that I was looking *up* at him.

"I'll try harder to get to work on time," he said meekly.

"Trying isn't good enough. Work's not the only place where you're late. How many times have we lost a reservation at a restaurant because we showed up late? Just once I'd like to see the *beginning* of a movie. I have to lie to you and tell you that our friends invited us over for dinner at 6 when it's really 7 because it's the only way we can show up nearly on time."

I could feel the heat rising in my face. In the back of my mind was a frightened little girl telling me, "What are you doing?" I couldn't let that doubt dwell. I told that girl to shut up.

I filled my lungs with a fresh charge of air and continued, "There are going to be some changes around here. You demonstrate all the responsibility of a little boy when you are late. You want to know the difference between a boy and a man?" I only waited a half second before answering my own question, "DISCIPLINE. Men are disciplined; boys are not. If you can't discipline yourself then I will do it for you."

"Come with me!" I grabbed his arm, and led him to the living room. He had barely gotten his jacket off and didn't even have time to put it on a chair. It slipped from his grip and landed on the floor. I sat down with him standing beside me. I managed to undo his belt and unbutton his pants faster than I ever did while preparing him for sex. The speed took us both by surprise, and Ed didn't even have a chance to object.

I could feel my heart pounding. Adrenaline replaced blood in my veins. I don't know whether it was a combination of anger, and now that I got down to it, plain sexual excitement. I've never been bossy with Ed, and now I've gone from zero to a hundred and twenty in the few steps it took to get him from the front door to the chair.

With the strength and speed of Wonder Woman (although I felt more like a PowerPuff Girl) I simultaneously pulled him over my lap while lowering his trousers.

I let him rest there for a moment. I could feel him tremble. I never realized how much power I had at my command waiting to be unleashed. This was a defining moment for the two of us. I could retreat and become the frightened little girl again. He could resist. I knew that in spite of my adrenaline surge, he was stronger than me physically.

"Ed, I love you." I said. It seemed so incongruous a statement at the moment. But I really did love this man. The thought of hurting him physically or even wounding his pride was something I really didn't want to do. But the mark of civilized people is to do things for their common good that is not in their immediate best interest. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. You know I have to."

I brought my hand up. It was like I had a 20 pound weight attached to it. I brought it back down and my palm met his upturned ass. I had feared this moment from the minute I decided to do it. I was afraid that I would feel silly and giggle, and that would ruin the entire event. I didn't. I felt that this was right. My arm swung back up more easily.

I don't know how many times I spanked him the first time. I didn't keep count. It wasn't at all like in the spanking stories I later read. I didn't make him count the spanks out loud. I didn't think to lecture him while spanking him, although we had a very frank conversation over dinner later.

Frank's attendance improved immediately.

Several weeks later, Eileen called me. "Ed's really tearing up the organization. I'm hearing rumors about promotion. What did you do to him?" My response was simple, "Thank you."

I still have to spank Ed from time to time to remind him of his responsibilities. I've also found other things to spank him over. Both of us are happier now that we've placed his discipline in my hands.

end of female domination, femdom story