Because You Asked for It - Chapter 19 (Patreon)

Chapter 19. Kate

I followed Jordy into the guest bedroom, where he went straight into the corner. “Shoes,” I said, and he took the off.. I reached around and undid his pants for the second time in an hour, then whisked them down his legs. “Step out.” And he did. I left him like that, in just his T-shirt and diaper, with instructions to stay in the corner until I came back, and I didn’t tell him when that would be. He was quiet the whole time. He didn’t drag his feet, but he didn’t rush, either. I wish I knew what was going through his head.

I went back to the kitchen and made myself a glass of iced tea. I’d laid out a few things in writing at the start of all this: he would enthusiastically participate in the new health regimen, and he wouldn’t lie. “The basics,” I’d called not lying. It was pro forma. I didn’t think I’d ever need to punish him for lying. He’s a grown man. But he was acting like a little boy who wasn’t getting his way. 

For sure there would be some changes. For one, he was going to use a food tracker from then on so he could see how much one treat or one meal could sabotage an entire day. But the idea that I considered and then dismissed was taking away his debit and credit cards, putting him on a cash allowance. I didn’t think we were there yet.

I don’t like spanking with belts. It seems too much like a whipping to me, not a spanking. But the spoon didn’t seem like it was enough for his offense. What else did I have in the house? Kiley has a nice collection of paddles, but I didn’t want to bring her into this. I’d be making some online purchases soon, though. That plastic hairbrush would have to do since neither of us has the right kind for this particular use. 

And the thing is, this was not sexually exciting for me. I didn’t want to have to spank my husband for lying to me. But I had to. I took the cheap soap we’d bought from the store, along with the hairbrush, and went to collect Jordy.

I took him to the bathroom, instructing him to sit on the lid of the toilet. “When we’re done,” I started, “we can talk, and I want to hear what you have to say. But right now, you’re going to listen and not say a single word until I tell you to, understand?” He nodded glumly. “Look at me, not your feet.” He looked up. His face was red. 

“We’re adults, which means we’re mature enough to understand that sometimes lies are necessary or even the kind thing to do. You and I are telling a massive lie about your diapers. We lied to my family. We lied to Wendy. We lied to that woman at the store. We’re probably gonna lie to a lot more people, and I’m okay with that because it’s something we’re doing together for your sake. But when you lie to me,” I said, and my voice caught and broke, not what I meant to do. I swallowed that down and resolved to keep my composure. 

“... your wife ... I don’t understand, Jordy. You’ve been telling these ridiculous lies. You’ve lied about using rash cream. You’ve lied about your diet. You lied to me three times in 60 seconds today. Stupid lies! Pathetic lies over childish, stupid things. And getting caught in those lies so easily, like you’re not even thinking ahead. I don’t understand! I don’t understand why you’re resisting this so much and why you’re behaving like a little kid with this stuff. I mean, lying about food? Six-year-olds do that! Like I could literally catch you with your hand in the cookie jar and you’d deny it. I swear, it’s like you’re testing boundaries like a toddler.”

I was on a roll, and I wasn’t looking at him. It was like I was talking to an audience that wasn’t there, reciting a soliloquy of hurt feelings and mistrust. 

“And you’re telling those lies to me. To your wife. I don’t know if you think they’re just little white lies or that they don’t matter because you just want to do whatever you want to do, but they do matter, Jordan. They do matter to me. And not just because of what you’re lying about but just because they’re lies. We’re husband and wife, and every lie between us matters, every single one is a big deal. I have never lied to you, ever. Not once. And they just rolled off your tongue like being honest with me in the most trivial things isn’t important to you. Any other wife would wonder what other things you weren’t being honest about. I’m not worried about that, but I will be if this continues.

You are done lying. You are done having a bad attitude about these changes. You are done treating your health like it doesn’t matter. You are done, in general, sneaking around, keeping things from me, and doing things you know I don’t want you doing. I won’t have it. That’s all there is to it.”

I stopped, and I finally looked back at Jordan. He wasn’t looking at his feet, but he wasn’t looking up at me either. There was water in his eyes. His breath seemed to catch. I wanted it to be done. I wanted to just stop at the lecture, let it go, wrap my arms around him and let him tell me how sorry he was. I wanted to, and for almost a full minute, I grappled with it. I know Jordy like I know no one else in the world. I know how much he loves me, and I know how horrible he was feeling right then. But ... I don’t know, I felt I had to punish him. He knows better. I mean, he knew what he did was wrong, even if he managed to justify it in his own mind, he knew, and he did it anyway. No one is perfect; I didn’t imagine one spanking would forever cure him of this misbehavior. But I needed to make sure he understood that there would be consequences and that it wasn’t okay, nut just as misbehavior but because we made a vow to each other.

“I really don’t want to have to do this,” I told him, and for once I meant it. “I’m going to wash the lies out of your mouth with soap, and then I’m putting you over my knee for a long, hard spanking. Then you’re going to spend some time in the corner and think about how you’re going to behave better from here on out.” 

He was trying to hide it, that he was crying. So that answered my question on how to make him cry. Make him feel really guilty. 

I opened up a box of that cheap soap and worked it into a lather in the sink. I’d never even had this done to me, let alone done it to someone else. I stood in front of him and said, “Look up,” and when he did I took hold of a handful of his hair behind his head so he couldn’t get away. My god, he looked ... I felt sorry for him. “Open wide. Wider. And don’t try to get away. It will only get worse if you resist.” 

I tightened my grip, but not so hard as to pull his hair, and pushed the soap past his teeth, pushing it back and forth in his mouth while he squinched his eyes tight and kept his mouth open, working to keep the insides of his cheeks away from the bar. Across his tongue, against the roof of his mouth, on his gums and cheeks, over his teeth so some got in his molars where it was would stay until I let him brush his teeth. He was spilling drool all down his shirt front; his nose was running. It was a thorough lather, and I stopped with the bar still in his mouth. “Bite down.” Cautiously, he did so. I let him stay like that, saliva running down his chin, for a full minute.

“Open.” I took the soap out and wrapped it in a tissue. “I’m saving this in case we ever need it again. Will we ever need it again?” He shook his head no; he looked like a sorry, wet rat. “I’m glad to hear that.” I filled the cup at the sink with enough water for one rinse. He could do the rest after his spanking. “Rinse and spit,” I said as I handed him the cup and stepped out of his way. He did. I was impressed by the fact that he had at least followed my instruction and not said a word since I started lecturing.

“Let’s go get your spanking over with,” I said and gestured to the guest room. I followed him with that brush in hand. I sat down down on the bed. “You know the position.” He got over my lap.

“Jordy,” I said and then sighed. “I love you so much.” I reached over with my left hand and turned his chin so we was looking at me. “Do you know that? So much.” He nodded, his lips quivering. “Don’t you ever do anything to make me mistrust you again.” I felt him sob before I saw it. A heave of his chest, a cramp of his diaphragm, the bob of his head. I let go of his chin, and he faced away from me, and I started spanking him over his diaper with my hand.

I did that on purpose. I wanted to make the spanking last. I wanted him to feel those heavy, almost painless thuds pushing his body forward before it settled back and then got pushed forward again. I wanted him to hear the loud thwump of each spank. I wanted him to think about it, and as he was crying into the comforter, I knew he was.

I reached under his hips and got his diaper open, pulling it open in back. My heart wasn’t in it. I’d been so angry in the store and exasperated while I was telling him off, and now, with him crying over my knee, I just felt like getting this over with. I think Jordy had learned his lesson, and I just wanted to drive the point home in a way that left a lasting physical impression for a few days. I spanked him with my hand to get him warmed up just a little more, switched to that brush and gave him methodical, solid, heavy spanks, leaving the brush on his butt before picking it back up and doing it again. He buried his face in the bed, but I could hear he was crying and crying out. His butt wasn’t as red as I knew I could make it, but with the heavy swats, I knew I’d left a bruise that would linger a couple days.

I stopped. I let him lay there and cry. I rubbed his back and cooed, “Shhh. It’s all over,” and petted him until he’d calmed down.

“Up you go,” I said and helped him stand. His eyes were puffy, and he sniffed back what sounded like a nose full. I brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Go brush your teeth and come right back, please.” He pulled the diaper out from between his thighs, and I watched him walk away with a hand on his butt.

When he was out of the room, I sat back down on the bed and put my face in my hands. For the first time, I understood what it meant to be a disciplinarian. Not a fetish, but a responsibility. Following through on the rules and punishments you set forth even when you don’t want to. I wiped away a tear of my own, took some deep and eve breaths, and waited for him.

“Lie down on the bed, baby.” He looked confused. “It’s okay,” I promised. “On your back,” I said as he got onto the bed.

I opened up what used to be his underwear drawer. “I’m gonna change you into a fresh diaper, then you’re going to stand in your naughty spot for 30 minutes.” I opened a diaper and closed the drawer. “I want you to use that time to calm down and think about everything I told you, and then you can tell me whatever it is you need to. Hips up ...”

It felt good taking care of Jordy that way.