It was ten minutes to eight when Olivia threw a final glance at the freshly cleaned kitchen before heading to the bathroom to get ready. She looked in the mirror with a critical eye, slightly surprised to see a woman nearing forty. Why does the body age, but the mind stays so young? Sweet mystery of life, she supposed. Without ample time to fully freshen her face, she pinched her cheeks and traced her lips with the deep raspberry shade of her favorite lipstick. Olivia still possessed the gorgeous mouth of her youth. Her full, pouting lips showed off a defined cupid’s bow. One last look in the mirror, she was satisfied. At least she’d made an effort.

At two minutes to eight, Olivia took a deep breath as she prepared to knock on the study door. She wore one of Charlie’s light t-shirts that fell just above the tattered ends of her denim shorts. Her bare legs felt like jelly as she lifted her hand and knocked.

There was no response. She knocked again, harder.

“Yeah?” Charlie was a man of few words.

“It’s eight o’clock.” She paused, her heart pounding. “It’s time for my spanking.”

“Right. Come on in. I just need to finish this one thing.” Charlie sat behind a gigantic desk, hunched over his laptop. He waved Olivia into the center of the room where she stood and waited in silence. Finally, he turned his full attention toward his wife. “Remind me, Liv. Remind me why you are being punished every night this week.”

She responded weakly. “Because I got too drunk at your boss’s party on Saturday.” She tried desperately to keep her legs from quivering.

“And…?” From his desk drawer, Charlie withdrew a heavy hairbrush with a broad rounded head.

“I passed out in their bathroom.”

“You passed out in their bathroom. Is that the way you are expected to behave?”

“No.” It was barely a whisper. She was certain he could hear the flutters in the pit of her stomach.

“No.”

In one swift motion, Charlie positioned a ladderback chair beside his desk, sat down, and began rolling up his sleeves revealing perfectly muscled forearms.

“Pull down your pants, Liv, and bend over my knee.”

Olivia’s fingers struggled to unbutton her shorts, but they soon slipped past her hips where she held them tightly, refusing to let them fall. She placed her full weight across Charlie’s lap, feeling the familiar pressure of his thigh against her aching stomach. She was already whimpering as Charlie rubbed her trembling bottom. How could hands so gentle…? She barely had time to finish her wondered.

She gasped as Charlie’s hand hit her bottom with tremendous force; there would be no warm up. Blow after blow rained down on the tender underside of her cheeks until they glowed bright red. She was determined to remain silent, but cried out in protest when her panties were lowered without so much as a pause.

Smack. Smack. SMACK. Each thudding blow was harder than the one before, eliciting a tortured grunt from Olivia as she sobbed miserably.

He stopped.

Sweet God, she wondered, as he caressed her hot, swollen bottom.

“Liv, I want you to bring me the hairbrush and get back across my knee.”

Still sobbing, Olivia’s body collapsed at the very wondered.

“Now.”

Charlie helped her rise and watched her red bottom as she followed his orders. The shorts that she had clutched in her tight fingers were gone. She had kicked them off during the hand spanking.

As Olivia settled her body across Charlie’s knee for the second time, she felt a strange sense of bravado. She knew she was in the home stretch; it would soon be over.

Crack!

Oh, my God, the sting!!

Crack! Crack! Crack! Over and over, Charlie brought the wicked brush across her bouncing, blood red bottom as she wept and cried out for mercy.

“I’m sorry!” Through her sobs, she begged him to stop. “I promise I will never do it again. Please, Charlie!” She was writhing in pain now.

He stopped. His large hands slid across her bottom, calming the heat.

“I don’t like it when I have to punish you, Liv. You have two more spankings coming this week, and after that, I hope we never have to go through this again.”

“We won’t,” she said, melting into his lap and savoring his gentle touch against her heated skin. “I promise.”

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.