A traditional marriage with old-fashioned ideals is what both Matthew and I desired, but I soon learned that it was harder than I anticipated. Those little spankings over the seat of my jeans that Matthew gave me before we married, soon turned into full-fledged spankings on the bare once our vows were spoken! I learned that cursing would not be tolerated, nor would disrespect. Bouncing checks and getting traffic tickets were also taken quite seriously by Matthew.

The real problems occurred in our marriage when the thrice-divorced Sierra moved next door, and told me what I was missing ......

Chapter One

The first time Matthew spanked me I realized he was the man I would marry.  It wasn’t much of a spanking, only three hard swats over the seat of my jeans, but those three swats were enough to tell me that Matthew would be able to deal with my rotten temper and the trouble it seemed to get me into all the time.  More importantly, Matthew believed in traditional values, and so did I.  I was raised Catholic, and I still attended Mass on Sunday mornings with my parents.  Matthew was Catholic, too, even though he belonged to another Parish.  He’d teased me about my name, joking that I had to be a good Catholic girl with a name like Mary Frances.  Not really, I’d explained.  I was named for my two Grandmothers, and promptly nicknamed Frannie.

I’ll admit that I was very young, too young to be thinking of getting married by most people’s standards, but I knew myself pretty darn well.  I wanted a husband to love, a house with a kitchen to call my own, and hopefully lots of children.  While other girls in my high school senior class were talking of which college they wanted to attend, I was already working part time at the bakery for Mr. Samuels.  He promised me a full time position after graduation, and after going on a two week ‘graduation present’ vacation to Europe with my favorite Aunt, Sister Mary Katherine Patterson, I settled in to my job with satisfaction.   I continued to live at home, and while it was true I paid my own way, I still followed the house rules set by my parents.  They didn’t want me to move out and get my own apartment until I was at least twenty-one, and since I was able to put away most of my paycheck by living at home, and could afford a nice, brand new car, I accepted their rules, and did my very best to live by them.  Not very modern by today’s standards, but I was happy.  I was smart enough to know that I had a wonderful childhood, and that my parents loved me.  I didn’t feel a need to rebel against them.

I met Matthew at the bakery.  He came in every morning on his way to the office across the street where he worked as an Optician.  He had a bright smile for me each and every day, and he would always make polite conversation… Not like most folks do, mind you… But the kind of conversation that grows out of getting to know someone better and becoming friends.  I kind of thought and hoped he would ask me out on a date, but four months passed without so much as a hint that he thought of me as anything other than the girl at the bakery who waited on him every morning.  I was a bit discouraged, especially since the telephone wasn’t exactly ringing off the hook with offers to go anywhere or do anything.  Most of my friends were off to college by then, and I was spending entirely too many Friday and Saturday nights sitting in front of the television with my parents.

Matthew was a good looking guy.  Not overly tall compared to most men, but since I was barely five feet tall in the heels I wore on Sunday mornings, he was plenty tall enough for me.  His hair was dark, and so were his eyes… and he was simply my idea of ‘handsome’.  He was intelligent, too, and had a wonderful sense of humor, which my Dad assured me was necessary in order to deal with my volatile moods.  I really liked Matthew, but I wasn’t the kind of girl who felt comfortable asking a man for a date.  Call me old-fashioned, but I just couldn’t do that.  I wanted the guy to do the asking.

Mr. Samuels didn’t care what I wore to work every day, just as long as I was clean and comfortable, and presentable.  I always wore a large white apron over my clothing, but since it was hot in the bakery, I kept my clothing simple… jeans and a tee shirt… and comfortable shoes, since I was on my feet all day long.   I kept my long hair pinned up in back, and Mr. Samuels always nodded in approval.  Nothing was out of the ordinary that Tuesday.  It was a normal day, and I kept glancing at the clock, as I always did, looking forward to seeing Matthew. 

He was right on time, and I greeted him with a big smile, for I was truly happy to see him.

“’Morning, Frannie,” he smiled.  “Did you finish your project last evening?” he wanted to know.  I was refinishing a coffee table for my Mother.  One of my little nephews put some scratches on the finish by running a little car that lost its wheels over the surface, and my sister was threatening to replace the table, which she couldn’t afford to do.  I asked her to wait and see if I could make it nice again first, and Becky was crossing her fingers that I would be successful.  I was impressed that Matthew expected day by day reports on the sanding, and staining.

“No… My Aunt Mary Katherine was visiting, and I didn’t want to be out in the garage while she was there,” I explained.  “I’ll get it done tonight.  Did you finish your model?”  Matthew built model ships as a hobby.

“No, I had company, too.  Luke and his girlfriend had a spat, and he needed to talk.”

“They are always spatting,” I commented.  Luke was Matthew’s brother, and was younger than him by five years.  Matthew was twenty-five, compared to my nearly nineteen.

“He’s unhappy with Ceil,” Matthew said with a worried frown.  “They don’t have a lot in common, and she’s constantly flirting with other men when she’s out with him.  I don’t hold with that.”

“Perhaps he should break up with her?  If she’s flirting in front of him, it doesn’t sound to me like she’s committed to their relationship.”  I spoke with the ease of a friend, even as I was filling his daily order.  Matthew always bought a variety of donuts… one dozen… and he let me select them. 

“I think he’s coming to that conclusion, Frannie.”

I was listening intently to Matthew talk about Luke, and managed to catch my finger in the door of the display case when it snapped shut.  It hurt like heck, and the words that came out of my mouth were not sweet.  I immediately was embarrassed.  Matthew did not approve of swearing, and the once or twice I’d let something slip in front of him, he’d frowned at me and told me I was too sweet to use those words.  However, I had a very bad habit of swearing like a sailor when I injured myself in any way, and the words were out of my mouth before I remembered Matthew was standing right there.  I shook my hand and tried to hide my embarrassment, not daring to look up and meet the disapproval I knew would be in his eyes.

However, before I realized what he was about, Matthew rounded the display case, and took my hand in his and looked at my finger.  The skin was reddened, but after it stopped throbbing, it would be just fine.  He gently kissed the hurt, and then cupped my chin in his hand and turned my face up so that he could look at me.

“Frannie, using that kind of language is not acceptable.” 

Before I could say one word in my defense, he moved the donut box to one side of the counter beside the cash register, and then gently pushed me down over the polished wooden surface.  I was shocked and stunned when I felt the first spank land on the seat of my jeans.  I tried to get up, but Matthew put his hand on my back, and held me right there, and gave me two more stinging spanks!  I was so embarrassed, and yet, strangely pleased.

“I do not want to hear that kind of language from your sweet lips again, Mary Frances.  Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” I automatically replied, responding to the firmness in his tone of voice.  I’d never addressed any man besides my Dad as ‘sir’, but it just seemed the right thing to do. 

Matthew let me stand up, and it was all I could do to keep from reaching back to rub my smarting bottom.  I was completely flabbergasted, and didn’t know what to say. 

Matthew’s eyes were full of kindness, and he tipped my chin up once more to look at me.  “I care for you, Frannie, and I’ve wanted to ask you out on a date for some time now.  Would you consider going to a movie with me Saturday night?”  His eyes were full of hope, and my heart was his.  Right then.  Right there.  I was in love with Matthew Albert Newsome. 

“I’d love to go to a movie with you, Matthew,” I whispered emotionally.

Matt smiled, gave me a peck on the cheek, paid for his donuts and left.  From that moment on, I made a point of watching my language.

Matthew and I became a couple.  He started meeting us at Church on Sunday mornings and going out to breakfast with us afterwards.  My parents liked him, and when Dad realized that all Matthew had to do was say ‘Mary Frances’ in a certain tone of voice to calm me down before I lost my famous temper, he was impressed.  Of course, what Dad didn’t know was that Matthew would suggest that we go for a ride if I didn’t calm down immediately, and that ride usually took us to a secluded park near town, where Matthew would turn me over his knee and give me two or three firm swats, and a good scolding.

Part of me found those mini spankings embarrassing, and another part of me was frustrated that Matthew seemed to think that two or three swats equaled a spanking.  Once in a while I wondered what Matt would do if I threw a bonafide tantrum, or did something really wrong.  Would he still think that a few spanks were enough?  Would he take down my jeans and panties and spank me on the bare?

I wasn’t brave enough to push the issue.  I know how it sounds in this day and age, but Matthew and I were waiting until our wedding night to make love.  Matthew insisted that one of the reasons he fell in love with me was because I was a bit old-fashioned in my views.  He liked that.  He liked that I didn’t feel I had to follow the crowd.  He liked that I wanted a husband and kids, and that a career outside the home wasn’t at all what I longed for.  He said he was happy to find a woman who wanted to raise his children and wouldn’t be embarrassed to be a full time wife and mother.  Matthew treated me with respect, and earned my respect in turn.

I was the first person from our class to get married all those years ago.  Our wedding was perfect in every way, and our honeymoon was very romantic.  I couldn’t imagine that Matthew and I would ever have a problem in the world, or that we would disagree over anything.  I can’t help but laugh at how young and naïve I was.  Our first major disagreement occurred when we’d been married for five weeks.

Matthew came home from work, and sniffed the air appreciatively.  We were living in a small apartment, saving money to buy our own home, but I had my own kitchen, and I was making the most of it.  “Something smells wonderful,” he enthused.  Matthew loved my cooking.

“Stuffed pork chops in the oven,” I told him, walking over to kiss him hello.  “How was your day?”

“Good.  Yours?”

“Fine.  I finished wallpapering the bathroom,” I told him proudly.  He went and inspected the job, and nodded in approval. 

“Looks real nice, Frannie,” he told me.  “You’re right, too; the pattern makes the bathroom look a lot bigger.”  I was happy, until his next words were uttered.  “Did you get the thank you notes done today like I asked you to?”

Writing the thank you notes for all the wedding gifts was a sore subject with me.  I hated writing notes.  I didn’t have the first clue what to say, and the idea of addressing all those envelopes was depressing.  I told Matthew that I wasn’t good at that sort of thing, and he said that being polite was not an option.  He wanted the notes done, and he was getting very upset with me because they weren’t.  I didn’t want to discuss the thank you notes.

“I need to check on the pork chops,” I announced, hurrying back to the kitchen, and making a pretense of checking the oven.  The pork chops needed at least thirty more minutes.  I had potatoes baking in the oven, too, and a broccoli salad was all prepared.  There was nothing else to do but set the small table, and that would take perhaps thirty seconds.  I was just avoiding the question.  I knew it, and worst of all, Matthew knew it, too.

“Did you do the thank you notes, Frannie?” he asked again.

“No, I did not do the thank you notes, Matthew, and what’s more, I wish you would stop asking me about them!  I’ll do them when I get #### good and ready to do them!”  As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I was in trouble.  Cursing was not permitted in our home.  Matthew didn’t curse, and he didn’t want his wife cursing.  I’d been trying hard to stop since that first spanking in the bakery, but at times, especially when my temper was involved, that word, and a few others, would slip out.

“Is that oven timer correct, Mary Frances?” he asked quietly.  I nodded yes.  When he called me ‘Mary Frances’, I knew I was going to get a couple of smacks on my bottom.

“I’m sorry I swore, Matthew,” I apologized.

“I’m sorry you swore, too,” he replied.  “I’m sorry that you were disrespectful, and I’m sorry that you didn’t do those thank you notes like I specifically asked you to.  You had all day to get them done, Frannie.”

“I hung wallpaper in the bathroom, Matthew.  I cleaned the apartment, and did our laundry, and cooked dinner.  I was busy all day.”

“But, you didn’t do the one thing I specifically asked you to do, and you were disrespectful when I asked you about it, and you used a word that isn’t to be used in our home.  I think it is time for your first spanking as a married woman, Mary Frances.”

I just wanted him to get it over with.  Waiting for those three swats was difficult.  I knew from experience that they would sting a bit, but once they were over, Matthew and I would be fine with each other again.  I would get the stupid notes sent, even if it killed me, and that would be the end of it.

Matthew pulled a chair from the table and out into the middle of the floor.  He sat down, and then motioned for me to come to him.  I didn’t like this at all.  Always before, he’d just taken me over his lap.  Of course, we were usually in the car… but this was a bit different, and it was very difficult to walk over to him for a spanking.  However, I wanted to get it over with, so I approached him on rubbery legs.

“Take down your jeans and panties, Mary Frances,” Matthew ordered in a firm voice.

“What?” I heard myself squeak.

“You heard me, young lady.”

“But, you never spank me on the bare!” I reminded him.

“We are married now, and that changes things.  From now on, when I need to spank you, wife, it will be on a completely bared bottom.  Take down your clothing, please.”

This was not going well! I told myself as my fingers fumbled with the button and zipper on my Wranglers.  This was also embarrassing.  We were in the middle of the kitchen, and what if my parents, or his brothers, came by unexpectedly?  I thought that might dissuade him from spanking me.  “Matthew, what if my parents or one of your brothers come barging in?”

He nodded in understanding, and got to his feet.  To my dismay, he walked around the breakfast bar and through the carpeted living room, and made sure the door was locked.  Then he locked the doors to the patio, and pulled the drapes… and then he made sure the kitchen door was also locked.  “Now they’ll have to knock.  Take down your clothing, Frannie, and don’t make this any worse for yourself.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.  What was he talking about?  Worse how?  I was so busy trying to figure out what Matthew meant by his words, that I had my jeans and panties pushed down within seconds.  Matthew simply patted his right thigh, and I closed my eyes in embarrassment as I realized he wanted me to put myself in position.  “I can’t do this, Matthew,” I hesitated.  “Can’t you just do it like you always do?” I whined a bit.

“We are married now, Mary Frances, and when you do something wrong, I expect you to show me that you are willing to accept the consequences of your actions. 

“Okay, honey,” I tried another approach.  “I am very sorry I didn’t do the thank you notes.  Right after dinner, I will sit down and get them done before we go to bed tonight.  It isn’t necessary for you to spank me.  I am sorry I lost my temper and was disrespectful.  I won’t do that again, either.  I promise.  It isn’t necessary for you to spank me when I know I was in the wrong.”

Matthew just looked at me, clearly disappointed.  “Frannie, we agreed that we wanted a traditional marriage.  You promised to ‘obey’ during our marriage ceremony, and yet, the very first time I give you a specific request, you break your promise to ‘obey’.  And right now, all I am seeing is a little girl trying to talk her way out of a deserved punishment.  You have added ten extras to your spanking, and each time I have to repeat myself, there will be another ten tacked on.  Extras will be harder than the original spanking, so I would strongly advise you not to earn too many of them, or you will not enjoy sitting on your chair to eat your dinner and write out those thank you notes tonight.”

Copyright © 2007 by Christian DD Group.