James Sondance is one of my favorite authors in the genre of F/M spanking. He mostly writes about couples in loving domestic relationships in which the woman spanks and her partner accepts her discipline. His stories thus deal with domestic discipline between adults, a lifestyle arrangement. You could almost call these F/M romances, which are actually pretty rare. Anne Rice once wrote one, “Exit to Eden,” (which was mauled beyond recognition in the movie version). An author named Grant Antrews who no longer seems active, also used to write them. I write them in short story form. The Jeff and Margaret saga is an example. See: Strict Ladies and Naughty Boys, Vol. 3
So enjoy this one, and I’ll see if I can pull more James Sondance from the dusty archives.
Love Me, Love my Spankings
By James Sondance
When I unhitched the trailer and set up housekeeping, it did not take the grapevine long to announce that a bachelor had arrived in the park. Wives, with no other thought than to be hospitable, brought me things to eat, and then started steering unmarried girlfriends in my direction. But, I met Kathy in the jacuzzi with no help from anyone.
I was basking in the turbulent water when along came a plump lady with a big smile and a big bottom. The only unoccupied jet was next to mine and we fell to talking. She was having trouble with the plug on her iron, didn’t know if it was safe to use it or not?
Putting a new plug on a cord is about as far as my electrical skills go, so I offered to come and do that in the afternoon. No sign of any man in her large motor home and Kathy assured me she did drive it everywhere herself. I was quite taken by this brave, happy lady, and gladly stayed for dinner after the big repair job was completed. Afterwards, we watched “Terms of Endearment” on her VCR, got misty eyed together. When it was time to go home, Kathy made a fuss about thanking me. “What can I do for you”, she asked? “Anything at all.”
I’d been watching ample breasts bounce all afternoon and replied with unwonted boldness. “Kathy, I’d like to touch your breasts.” She rose at once, said, “come with me”, led the way to the back bedroom. I waited in breathless excitement while she closed the windows, drew the shades, Generous Kathy was going to more than reward me!
But . . . she picked up her hairbrush, sat on the bed and said “take your pants down and lie across my knees!”
It could have been part of eroticism to come? I fumbled with belt and zipper while she sat impassively waiting. There was no change of expression as trousers and shorts hit the floor. She tapped her thigh with the brush for all the world as if spanking a bare-bottomed man was an accustomed routine. I lay over the waiting lap. Had time to reflect that upholstered thighs made a comfortable perch, when she began to smack my buttocks with that damn hairbrush! It landed on the off cheek and burned like fire; then the inside one. Every single crack scorched my poor bottom. I saluted her efforts with plenty of “ow!” at first, and they seemed to get louder as she paddled away. When that had no discernible effect, I started apologizing and promising never, NEVER to say anything like that again. The minute she released her grip I hastily got up, pulled clothes back on, took off for home.
A still smarting bottom woke me the next morning. It was a reminder of Kathy’s way of saying thank you. There was a note under my door. ‘If you can behave, you are invited to supper. K’.
I started to tear it up, then stopped, scribbled a purposely curt, ‘Sry, prvs engmnt’, waited till her little car was gone before tucking it under her door. I hoped the damn bitch was shopping for delicacies and that they choked her when she had to eat them alone.
There was another note when I returned from the afternoon swim. All it said was, ‘When? K’.
Might as well put a stop to the nonsense. I wrote, ‘Never’ on it, dropped the billet doux off at her motor home.
Another note the next morning. ‘If you’re waiting for me to say I’m sorry, you’ll have a long wait!’
I did not respond to that one. Kathy and I exchanged formal nods in passing for several days and that was all. She had fascinated me, but so had others before her. It would be easy to go on to the next. Skinny Viola Anderson for instance, also a widow and not as prim as you know who.
A week later there was another note from Kathy. More of a letter: ‘I badly need a fourth when my sister and her husband have dinner with me on the 24th. It would help out if you could come? There will be NO spankings – and no more notes’.
That was my chance to wash my hands of the fat lady. All it would take would be another, Prvs engmnt’. But, I knew they wanted to play bridge and bridge is my weakness. Besides my evenings were not all that exciting. I wrote, Delighted. What time?’
Kathy came into the jacuzzi the next day. “Thanks, Jim”, she said. “Six too
“Fine.” End of conversation.
Shined and shaved, I knocked on Kathy’s door at one minute before six. She did look lovely all dressed up and the sister and husband made a handsome couple. “Clarissa, this is Jim . . . Clarissa and Dave, Jim.”
As I was shaking hands with Dave, Clarissa said, “is this the gentleman you spanked, Kathy?”. “Yes and it made him mad.”
“My goodness. If Dave got mad every time I reprimanded him, we’d never be on speaking terms.
I found that introduction embarrassing but none of the other three were one bit flustered and soon friendly conversation cleared the air.
After a good dinner, the girls cleared the table and we sat down for bridge. I held heavy hands and enjoyed it. Kathy could not win for losing. When she rotated to a new partner, bad cards pursued her. Stakes were 1/10 of a cent and she would up paying everybody.
The other two guests rose to leave and I jumped up with them. From what I knew of my hostess, she probably would want to take out her bad cards on my bottom. “Stay a minute, Jim.” “Thanks, Kathy, I’ll run along.” “I thought I made you a promise? And I would like to talk to you.”
Kathy knew why I was reluctant to be alone with her, but she had promised, so I bid sister and husband goodnight, sat back to hear the urgent talk.
“Jimmie”, Kathy started, “a woman does not spank a man she has no regard for”.
“Odd way to show it.”
“What do you mean? What did your mother do when you said something naughty?” “You’re not my mother, Kathy.”
“I’m a woman though. Women correct those they are fond of.”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“You guess so? Did you think your mother did not love you when she chastised you?” “Sometimes I didn’t love her after it was over . . . that only lasted an hour though.”
“It lasted more than a week when I did it.” Kathy sounded wistful, looked vulnerable and sweet.
“I’m over my mad right now Kathy, only . . . ”
“If you have to show how fond of me you are again, could you do it with your hand?”
Kathy laughed at that. Then she got serious. “I don’t know if you want to see any more of me or not, but if you do, I’ll spank you again someday.”
“You must like to spank?”
“What should I do when you make an indecent suggestion? Punch you? I doubt if that would be safe.”
“Some women slap.”
“I slapped a different place is all. You can’t hit back when you’re across my knees.”
I had to smile at that; she was right. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Do I like to spank?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Well . . . it’s a way to assert myself in a man’s world.”
“Right. Do you LIKE to do it?”
Her face got red. “Yes I do.”
“How about the nudity?”
“That’s part of it. You’re bare; I’m not.”
“And you’re telling me ‘love, love my spankings?'”
She folded her arms. “You’d have enjoyed Mama’ comforting afterwards if you hadn’t run off so fast.”
Kathy’s face was deep red. She looked directly at me with what could have been a challenge. She’d made it plain enough. I felt a tingle in my lower parts which was by no means all apprehension. “Does Mama always do it with the hairbrush – never her hand?”
“It’s always my hand. So I can feel it too. Don’t know what got into me that night. I must have been trying to make an impression.”
“You did . . . but I still want the same thing, Kathy. In a strange way I guess I can accept physical discipline — from the right woman.”
“You ARE naughty. Just because I promised . . . I didn’t promise anything for tomorrow though. Come for breakfast – if you want to.” There was a pause . . .
“If you’re not here by 8, I’ll know you’re not coming.”
There it was. The second chance to escape the web. But she was so exciting. I set my alarm for 7, showered, shaved, and knocked on her door a few minutes before 8.
“I’m so happy you came”, she greeted me, feasted us both on eggs, bacon, toast and coffee. As she moved about, I took approving note of Kathy’s breakfast costume. She was wearing a housecoat. Heels and dark nylons flashed when she walked. The garment was opaque, but clinging, and I was sure there was nothing underneath but Kathy.
We were sipping coffee and making idle talk, when Kathy casually put her cup down and in the same conversational tone said, “You were naughty again last night. You need another spanking and I’m going to give it to you. Go to the bedroom and take your pants down.”
With a mixture of apprehension and excitement, I went back to her bedroom, quickly dropped trousers and shorts. Kathy followed me, sat on the bed. She bunched the housecoat up to white thighs above stocking tops. Long legs were in full view. Small ankles, full calves, sturdy enough to support a wiggling, kicking culprit. I thought I was deliberately allowed time for inspection before she said, “Over my knees, naughty boy.”
There was nothing pretend about the spanking. A big woman spanks hard. A determined hand landed on one buttock then the other. There was plenty of stinging but not the breath-taking bruise of the hairbrush and at least this time I felt I deserved it. She’d already spanked me once for a bold remark. When would I learn? “I won’t say it again, Kathy”, I promised over and over, and this time really meant it.
As the spanking continued, there were more “ouches!” and a lot of pleading, but interspersed with the appeals was a surprising realization that there was something erotic about being naked and over her lap. Nevertheless, the urgent promises I made into the rug were sincere.
As if unwilling for this spanking to be too severe, Kathy desisted, said, “You may get up”. But when I started to pull my trousers back on, she stopped me. “Don’t do that yet. Sit on my lap. Let Mama comfort you.”
Wondering if that was to be an interlude to more discipline, I turned and sat upon her lap. She held my head against soft breasts. Her free hand dropped to my middle as if by accident and there was a questioning touch to private parts. She could not have missed the instant response. I buried my head deeper into her breasts, moaned, “Kathy!”. A hand which was still hot from spanking, began to gently massage my stiff penis, and I soon exploded into her palm.
“Let me do you now, Honey.” I could pleasure her too.
“No, Jimmy. This is the way I want it to be.”
Over coffee later, Kathy gave me a quizzical smile. “How do you like my mothering? I undress you; I spank you; I make you come. You are in Mother’s hands, little boy.” She was right . . . I was. I’d have moved in with her if invited. As it was, I began to spend more time at Kathy’s than at home.
Our acquaintances in the park probably thought Kathy was a little bossy. I soon learned she was VERY bossy. And strict! Kathy expected me to mind her like a 5-year old minds his Mama, and her reprimands were the same. I had to listen to scoldings in an attentive and respectful manner. Spankings were to be accepted as for my own good and proof of her love. A surly reaction was reason enough to do it again. Kathy never hesitated to apply her palm more than once in the same day.
At first I was put out at the all-encompassing custody of my life. After Kathy had ‘warmed my toddyside’, sitting would be uncomfortable for the rest of the day. Then I was surprised to find the close supervision pleasant. After a lifetime of decision making, it was relaxing to have them made for me. Kathy cared what I did, made me feel cherished. Of course she also took care of sexual tension. In a dispassionate way. As if tending to my need. She was both Disciplinarian and Lover and I could always avoid the spankings by following her rules.
But one day I got a severe licking, during which I naturally promised never to do it again, without being at all sure what I had done! We’d been sitting around the pool with some friends. One of the girls complimented my flat stomach. Kathy immediately got up as a signal we were leaving, and as we departed, planted a smack on my wet bathing trunks which made the sun bathers lift their heads. “You’re going to get it at my trailer”, she said in my ear.
I was not aware of any transgression, but it was too public for debate. As soon as we stepped in her door, I asked “What did I do?”.
“You . . you . . you contradicted me when I said Flagstaff was 140 miles. Pull your trunks down.”
I couldn’t remember doing it. We’d had a general discussion and someone had corrected her. Not me. I tried to point that out. Her reply was, “Are you going to mind me? Get that bottom bare!”
There was a dangerous glint in her eye. I obeyed while she stood and watched. “I’m still wet, Kathy”, I protested when lying over bare thighs. The only reply was a dozen stinging smacks. “Stay right there on your flat stomach. I’m not finished with you yet.”
“Yes Mam. OW! OW! OW!” Her indignant hand paddled my bottom until I was sure it was steaming. My protests went unheard. There was no loving afterwards and nothing I could say or do seemed to please her.
She was still irascible the next day. We went to the grocery store together. She always liked doing that. Some friends from the Park were standing at the candy counter and I made some foolish remark about buying candy for Kathy, “to fill her out”. She didn’t like it. On the way to the car she said, “Thanks for embarrassing me in front of your friends. When we get home go directly to the bedroom and get your toddyside bare. I am planning to find out if my hairbrush will improve your sense of humor.”
She was driving as always. I tried to placate. “I didn’t mean anything, Kathy.” Stony silence. Blast of the horn at someone ahead. “Can’t you do it with your hand, Mama?” “Be still. Not another word.”
She was mad enough to leave the groceries in the car, take me inside by the ear, right in front of everyone. As it was she said, “Take one of the sacks in, then go back and do as you were told.”
Opening the door, I found Clarissa and a strange lady sitting there. Reprieve! At least until they left. She’d cool down by then. Kathy was right behind me, greeted the stranger with old-friend delight, introduced me as if the grocery store was forgotten. But as I stood listening to excited female chatter, she turned to me. “What did I tell you to do? Go to the bedroom and DO it.”
I made an ungraceful exit, went back to her room and carefully closed the door before stripping down to the part Kathy seemed to consider her property. Even with the door closed, I could plainly hear everything in the next room. Clarissa and her friend would be able to hear the sounds of punishment almost as well as if Kathy had done it where they were sitting. Maybe she would wait until they left? Or at least not use the hairbrush? No matter. They weren’t going to hear one peep out of me.
I heard Kathy say, “Excuse me a minute, girls.” She came in, closed the door behind her, gave me a baleful look. “You are going to get a good spanking”, she announced unforgivingly. “You are lucky I didn’t do it right in front of my guests.”
“They’ll hear through these thin walls, Honey”, I pleaded.
“Maybe they’ll laugh at you like your friends did at me. Come here and bring the hairbrush.”
I abandoned argument, surrendered to the inevitable, but repeated the promise to myself that they would not hear a sound out of me. Kathy sat on the bed, tapped a nylon thigh. I resignedly assumed the familiar position.
Kathy immediately began to smack alternate cheeks with noisy slaps. She was angry and the brush came down hard. The oath of silence lasted for about 5 terrible smacks and then I began to howl and plead, with no regard for who heard what. If it amused the guests to hear a grown man begging Mama to stop spanking him, they should have been holding their sides. I was crying hard before very many spanks, but Kathy just kept smacking the weeping, wailing little boy I had become at that moment.
“Get undressed and in this bed”, Kathy said. “I am going out to dinner with the girls. You stay here.” She watched while I shucked the rest of my clothes, tucked the covers under my chin, seemed about to say something, then departed. I listened for them to leave so I could escape, But the hum of partially-heard conversation was soporific and I dozed off.
It was dark when the bedroom door awakened me. Clarissa came in, switched on a light. I could smell her perfume when she sat on the bed. “You got a real licking, Jim.”
“I sure did, Clarissa.” Her sympathetic voice made my eyes water again.
“Turn over. Let me see.” Gentle fingers touched the sore skin. I heard a jar being opened and felt something cold. “Are you going to walk out on my sister forever?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re still in her bed. Nothing stopped you from leaving.”
“I wasn’t sure I could walk.”
“Of course you can. Our Mama whipped us a lot harder than that.”
“With what for God’s sake?”
“A yardstick. She bent us over the foot of the bed and spanked our fannies red with that stick. The marks lasted a week. She never put us over her knee.”
“No wonder Kathy thinks a spanking has to be murderous.”
“Kathy and I think over the knees is more game than punishment.”
“It didn’t feel like any game, Clarissa.”
“She feels she has the right.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Jim, Kathy was a bear at supper. Hardly spoke to anyone. Hurried us back here before we could finish coffee. You know why?”
“She desperately hoped you’d still be here. When she saw your sweater on the chair, she lighted up like a Christmas tree.”
“Wants to do it some more?”
“Stop sounding like a surly child. Kathy’s in love.”
“Are you blind? Haven’t you noticed the slacks disappear, the new skirts?”
“I thought that was because I like to look at her legs?”
“She likes you to like to. That’s something new for my sister. She always thought love was only for feather brains like me.”
“You are a lovely, smart girl, Clarissa.”
“Thank you sir. I wasn’t fishing . . . .let’s talk about Kathy . . . no sex for my ice queen sister either? She might oblige you . . .?”
“But no touchee me?”
She pondered this for a moment, then ventured a thought.
“But now she wants to be touched. It scares her, makes her mad. What did you do to set her off?”
“Made a remark about fat.”
“She’s lost 15 pounds since meeting you. Have you noticed that?”
She shook her head from side to side slowly and grimaced. “You deserve to be spanked.”
“So that’s why she’s so irritable? And that time at the pool I liked her the way she was.”
“As you say, I’m still in her bed.”
“Be good to her, Jim.” Clarissa bent swiftly kissed the area she had cold creamed, then was out the door.
After the two girls had left, there was a timid knock on the door. Kathy knocking at her own bedroom! “Come in, Kathy.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” The voice was very small. “Are you going to leave?”
“Not without supper.”
“I’ll make you eggs, bacon, a steak, anything you want.” “I want you Kathy. Right here in this bed.”
The amazing woman broke into a flood of tears. “Darling, darling, darling, how can you stand me? I get jealous; I spank you for no good reason; I’m crazy in love. Just let me get this dress off. . . . . ”
A passionate, enthusiastic bed partner wore me out that night. Every suggestion of mine was seized eagerly; and she had a few of her own. It was an exhausting, fatiguing, perfectly delightful night, with dinner at quite a late hour.
A dewy-eyed lady sat across the table at breakfast the next morning. “I love you, Kathy” I declared. “Will you marry me?”
“Of course I will. I’ll never let you get away.” But she added teasingly, “I suppose you think I won’t spank you any more?”
“No I don’t think that, Kathy.”
“I’ll use the hairbrush on you too.” Then she added anxiously, “Can you stand that? Not too often. Only when you deserve it.”
“I can’t live without you, Kathy. I’ll have to stand anything you see fit to do.”
So that’s the story of how a carefree bachelor became a red-bottomed husband. My wife and I don’t squabble like other married couples. Any time that begins, Kathy ends it with, “Drop your trousers and come.” After the spanking I’m always able to see her side of the argument.