He looked back at me, timid, thinking, until he slowly took his hands off mine and I knew control was passing to me. I pulled his zip down and pulled down his trousers to his ankles. His pants followed and he stepped out of both. “Right, Dave, get across my lap.” I was still livid. Dave eased himself over my knees. He was now timid as he bent across my lap and just lay there, not moving, putting his hands on the floor in front of him. I decided just to lay straight in to him. Scolding will come later. So I gave him spank after spank on his bare bottom, turning his bare bouncing bottom cheeks first pink and then a deeper red. I just spanked him as hard as I could, almost blind with rage, but after about 5 minutes I had calmed down. I was even thinking I should not be doing this. I am his wife and not his mother. I rubbed my hand around his bottom while I was thinking; giving the occasional few smacks just to make sure he did not try to get up. Then I decided what the heck? He deserved. My wife and I both have blood relatives who have exhibited emotional/mental instabilities. We became aware of this when our son, George, started to go to public school. We had brought George up to be (what used to be called) a gentleman. That is, he was taught that it is never right to hit a girl/woman. He also knew that men were to open doors for them. They are to be protected as much as we can arrange it. Cussing was not allowed in our house. Essentially any adult born before 1950 would understand exactly what we were trying for. Along about this time it became clear that George had inherited my tendency to depression. He received excellent care from a psychiatrist who put him on an antidepressant that had a good track record for young people. George was not a well coordinated young man. He took after his father, me. Because of the lack of coordination George was never good at sports. Because of that and the fact that he didn’t curse he was picked on unmercifully from about fifth.
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