The Dowry of Anna Berlitz By
Kristin York
The Dowry of Anna Berlitz By
Kristin York A Newsite Web Services Book Published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved. Copyright 2008 © by Kristin York This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission of the author or Newsite Web Services, LLC Published by Newsite Web Services, LLC P.O. Box 1286, Loganville, Georgia 30052 USA
[email protected] disciplineanddesire.com
Chapter One Union Co., Ohio Present Day "There—in the far corner." Michelle Zook stood by the front door of her newlywed’s apartment, pointing and waving like an air-traffic controller. "That’s right, guys. Over there by the floor lamp. Great!" Two burley men, whose uniforms declared them employees of the Mayflower Moving Company, slid a heavy blanket chest off a two-wheeled dolly and began to remove the industrial-strength padding which had protected it from nicks and bumps during it’s recent move. As it was divested of the heavy blankets, Michelle could barely contain her excitement at having a genuine antique in her living room. It truly was beautiful—and far bigger than she had expected. At two-and-a-half feet tall and over four feet wide, it would undoubtedly hold quite a bit more than the cedar chest she had begged Paul to buy her for a wedding gift. As she saw the moving men to the door, Michelle couldn’t help but experience a twinge of guilt over the way she’d "punished" her new husband for not coming through with the longed-for gift. Her behavior had certainly been less than ladylike in those first few days after they’d returned from their honeymoon. Of course, Paul could have said something then about the gorgeous piece of furniture he was to inherit, but he’d been far too
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stubborn to give away his big secret. Instead he’d allowed Michelle her sulk, telling her nothing until a month later, after he’d scheduled the movers to bring the chest from his parent’s home to the apartment he and Michelle were renting. Michelle shut the front door and bounded across the living room to study the blanket chest. It was truly amazing! She ran her fingers over the weathered American Pine and studied the pattern that had been varnished in circles all over the chest. How lovely it was. She’d have to ask Paul what he knew about the family heirloom, and the significance of the year 1835, carefully engraved on the front, just below the lock. Michelle was a bit concerned at first about that lock, but her worries appeared unfounded when a gentle tug on the lid revealed a deep storage area. Inhaling, the young woman savored the sweet smell of Cedar chips, undoubtedly placed inside the chest to keep linens smelling fresh. Eager to put the family heirloom to good use, she hurried to the over-stuffed hall closet and came back loaded down with an armful of blankets and sheets. Plopping the linens onto the couch, she began to carefully refold the items before putting them in the chest. She was leaning over putting the blankets away, her derriere a tempting target when Paul crept up behind her. Smack! "Ouch!" Michelle jumped, turning to her husband with a grin. "What was that for?" Paul wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Just because," he grinned as he lowered his lips to hers. After a long, hi-honey-I’m-home-from-work-kiss, perfected as only newlywed’s know how, he lifted his head and regarded his wife with smiling eyes. "So, what do you think of it?"
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"Oh, Paul," Michelle enthused, "It’s stunning. When you said you had something special coming from home, I had no idea—I never expected—" "—for it to be something like this?" he teased. "I guess you didn’t think a country boy like me had any clue about antiques. Right?" Michelle pushed her husband away in mock disapproval, giving him a playful slap to the arm. "You just hush! You know what I meant." "All right, little missy," he laughed goodnaturedly, "You best behave now and watch that mouth of yours, or you might find yourself in trouble." "Oh, Paul," Michelle rolled her eyes at the comment. "Where are you coming up with this cave-man routine?" Paul waggled his eyebrows at his wife. "A caveman, am I? Well now, I guess I’ve neglected to tell you the story of this fine piece of early American craftsmanship." "No you haven’t, silly! You’ve told me all about the way it’s been handed down from generation to generation. For heaven’s sake," Michelle added flippantly, "you’ve told me the story at least a hundred times in the last week." "Ah—but have I told you what comes with the chest?" Paul asked in his best Sean Connery imitation. "There’s something else?" Michelle’s eyes were twinkling with the thought. "What is it, honey? Come on—don’t keep me in suspense." Instead of a direct answer, Paul crouched down to open the wide drawer near the bottom of the chest. "Here it is," he murmured as he rose from his position. In his hand, he held a long wooden stick, one end bent into a u—shaped handle. "Do you know what this is?" Michelle took the cane and looked at her husband questioningly. "Well, it looks like an old
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walking stick, but it’s so flimsy, I don’t see how it would hold anyone up. Look how it bends," she said, wiggling the long stick back and forth to illustrate the point. "Be careful with that!" Paul exclaimed, taking the cane reverently from his wife’s hands. "And it’s not the kind of cane you walk with, ‘Chelle. It’s a schoolmaster’s cane. And it’s as old as the chest." Michelle’s eyes grew wide as she realized she could have broken something that had lasted for more than 160 years. "I’m sorry, honey. But," she continued with wide-eyed innocence, "What do you mean its a schoolmaster’s cane? Like some kind of blackboard pointer or something?" "Well," Paul looked up at his wife with a knowing smile, as he began to flex the long rod ever so gently, "I’m sure it may have been used for that, babe, but that wasn’t its intended function." The look on Michelle’s face was one of utter confusion when she asked, "Well, what then? What would some old time school teacher have used this stick for, if not as a pointer?" Paul couldn’t help but be amused by his wife’s naivete. Good lord, had she never been spanked? Maybe, he mused, that was why she was such a brat at times. Well, no time like the present to introduce her to the real world. "It was used, my sweet little wife, to maintain classroom discipline." Michelle’s eyes grew even wider, and she tossed auburn curls over her shoulder with a disdainful sniff. "Are you telling me they used to beat children with this stick? Why, Paul, that’s awful. It’s positively barbaric! What kind of ancestors did you have?" Paul was quite surprised by his wife’s sudden vehemence, and at the fact that her words left him feeling defensive. "Well, I expect my ancestor’s were pretty normal people, Michelle. After all, we’re talking about the 1800’s here. There were strict
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rules for children back then, and equally strict punishments. And," he continued as he tipped her chin up and looked deeply into his wife’s green eyes, "it wasn’t just children who had to watch their step. A wife was expected to abide by the rules of the home as well. If she didn’t, she would find herself face down over her husband’s knee." Michelle felt her heart pounding in her chest as she stood staring up into the brown depths of Paul’s eyes. She’d never seen him like this—so calm, so in control. Suddenly she was wiping damp palms on her jeans, and hoping that her husband couldn’t read what was in her mind. For, while she wanted to be outraged at his words, she simply could not seem to stop the way her stomach was flip-flopping. Something about that thought—the thought of being taken over the knee of her husband—made liquid heat pool in the most embarrassing of places. Her face aflame, she pulled away from her husband’s grasp. Surely it couldn’t be normal to feel like this. "Well, I guess that makes sense," she said as she piled more in the chest. "I mean, that was before people understood about abuse issues." Rather than responding verbally, Paul gave his wife a playful swat with the cane. It only took a flick of the wrist, and she squealed adorably. "So, baby," he said in a voice gravelly with desire, "does that feel like abuse to you?" Michelle stood facing her husband, her hands clutching protectively at the seat of her jeans. "Mmmm—"she said as a new thought dawned on her. Was it possible Paul had experienced the same response to the thought of a man taking his wife over his knee? "I don’t know, honey. Maybe you ought to show me that again," she said as she sidled closer to him and slid her arms around his neck.
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"I’ll show you a thing or two," Paul laughed as he flicked the cane ever so gently against the back of her denim-covered leg. Then, dropping the implement, the young man swung his wife up into strong arms and carried her into their bedroom. More than an hour later, Michelle tiptoed out to the living room and reached for the phone and a menu from the pizza place down the block. She put in an order for two subs and a salad to split, then hung up the phone. But on her way back to the bedroom, the cane caught her eye. It was lying on the floor, and she was concerned one of them might step on it in the dark, so she picked it up and started to place it in the drawer Paul had taken it from earlier. It was then that the writing caught her eye, for deep in the back of the drawer a wood-burning tool had been used to inscribe something. Fascinated, Michelle stood up and clicked on a near-by lamp. Then she plopped back down on the floor and, sitting cross-legged, pulled the drawer completely out in order to more clearly study the wording. "This chest presented to Anna Berlitz on the occasion of her wedding, in the year of our Lord 1835. May it always reside in a household filled with love and peace." "Hmmm—how lovely," mused Michelle. That inscription—obviously the initial one—was near the back edge of the drawer, and underneath it was a list of names. "Joseph and Anna Zook; October 12, 1835 Johannes and Elizabeth Zook; August 23, 1858 Stephen and Virginia Zook; May 3, 1880 Joseph and Susannah Zook; December 25, 1911 Karl and Maria Zook: June 7, 1937 Jay and Claudia Zook; September 9, 1960" "Jay and Claudia—that’s Paul’s folks." For some reason, Michelle found herself whispering. Reverence just seemed to fit the moment, she
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decided with a smile. This was history, brought right into her home. She ran her fingers over the names of the original couple once again. "I wonder what it was like for her—for Anna. I wonder if Joseph ever used that cane on her." ______________ Lancaster County, Pennsylvania October 12, 1835 Anna Berlitz stood at the entrance to the oneroom church, her fingers picking nervously at her bouquet. She could hardly believe that her wedding day had finally come. Any minute her grandfather would begin to play his fiddle, and the sweet, woodsy tones would beckon her down the aisle to the tall, powerfully built man with sandy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Then her father would place her hand in his, they would repeat their vows, and her new life as Mrs. Joseph Eli Zook would begin. Though they’d not known each other long, Anna was quite smitten with the young man who waited at the minister’s side. He was rather handsome, and so much more than she had expected. She couldn’t help but think of her friend, Martha Yoder, and the man Martha had said "I do" to not more than a month before. Though Martha had kept a smile on her face, Anna had known how hard it was for her to maintain the charade, for the man she had been promised to had been so very old and severe looking. On the day of her friend’s wedding, Anna had nearly been tempted to run away from her own future, for an arranged marriage had awaited her, too. Now, looking at Joseph Zook, she was glad she hadn’t followed her impulse. The marriage ceremony itself was short, with Joseph Zook promising to "love and cherish" and Anna promising to "honor and obey." A ring and a chaste kiss sealed the vows, and they returned to
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the Berlitz’s family home for the wedding dinner. Then, as the final bit of ceremony in what had grown to be a long day, Joseph and Anna were taken in her Grandfather’s carriage to the town hotel. Family and friends followed in their own wagons, ringing cow bells and banging spoons on pots and pans until the couple had been shown safely to their room. Anna took her nightrail behind the dressing screen and took her time changing into her bedclothes. There were so many thoughts swimming about in her head. She did not really know Joseph Zook, as their grandfathers had arranged the marriage years ago, and she couldn’t help but wonder what this night would be like. Anytime she’d asked her mother about her wifely duties, the answer had been a standard, "Obey your husband, Anna. Do as he bids you, and he will teach you what is proper between a husband and wife." Proper? Now what did that mean? Anna’s stomach was churning by the time she belted her wrapper and returned to her husband’s side. Joseph had obviously sensed his young wife’s discomfort, for instead of taking her to their bed, he led her to a chair before the dressing table. His voice held a quiet strength when he bid her sit down before the mirror, and then he produced a carefully wrapped box from behind his back and handed it to her. Anna looked up at her husband, surprise clearly written across her face. "A gift? Why, Joseph," she stammered, face flaming. "I—I haven’t anything for you." Crouching down beside her, Joseph brushed a strand of deep chestnut hair away from her face and smiled. "Anna, you are my gift. The most wonderful gift I could ever receive. And I want you to know that I will always love and care for you. We are family now, Mrs. Zook. We are everything to
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one another." Joseph’s words were warm and soothing, and Anna felt some of her tension bleed away. "Besides," he continued, "I could never give you a gift that would equal what you’ve given me by becoming my wife. This is just a little token of my affection. Now, open it—please." With trembling fingers, Anna slipped the golden cord off of the box and carefully loosened the corner of the muted floral wrapping paper. Then, removing the lid, she gasped at the beautiful dresser set that was nestled in fluffy white tissue paper inside the box. "Oh, Joseph," she exclaimed breathlessly, "It’s beautiful." Setting the box before her on the dresser, Anna’s green eyes sparkled as she pulled a heavy, mahogany-backed mirror from the package. A comb soon followed, and finally a beautiful boarbristled brush with an oval head. "Here, let me have that," Joseph said, easing the brush from her hand. "Now then, Anna, take down your hair." Anna loosened the long chestnut braid from its decorative combs, and then removed the clasp that had kept it plaited throughout the day. But as her hands fumbled to loosen the waist length curls, Joseph took over. His hands were incredibly gentle as he unbraided her luxuriously thick hair, and then he began to work the brush through it. Anna’s tresses shown with every long stroke of the brush, and behind her, she could hear Joseph’s breathing grow ragged. Bending down to bring his lips near her ear, Joseph whispered, "You are so beautiful, Anna. Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to our bed?" Suddenly, the young woman found herself eager to learn of her wifely duties, and when her husband held out his hand, she took it willingly. He led her to the large, four poster bed and spent the night
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teaching her about the pleasures a man and wife could find in one another. After that night, Anna knew she would never be the same. As she drifted off to sleep in Joseph’s arms, however, Anna could not help but remember her father’s last words to her and the item that lay on top of the assorted linens stowed away in her dowry chest. When they arrived at their home tomorrow, she was to give the piece of leather to Joseph and explain its purpose in their home. She had promised her father that she would do so, and she knew she must obey this one last command. But oh, how she dreaded the task. The next day was a flurry of activity as, after a four-hour ride in Joseph’s best wagon, the newly married couple arrived at the home he had built for his bride. The house—or more appropriately, cabin—was located several miles from the nearest settlement, so Anna was not expecting the rather large group of friends and neighbors who awaited the Zook’s arrival. Much to her surprise, tables laden with an assortment of home-baked dishes were set up in the side yard. Amongst the tables, at least two dozen of Joseph’s neighbors—both adults and children—milled about. The handsome young man helped his new bride down from the wagon, and she found herself immediately surrounded by a flock of women offering their congratulations on her recent nuptials. Meanwhile, the men in attendance lifted the heavy dowry chest down from the buckboard and carried it into the house. Several of the ladies graciously offered to help Anna unpack her things, but she politely refused, stating she would have plenty of time to attend to the matter in the week to follow. She breathed a sigh of relief when the subject was changed to one of bread and cake recipes, thankful that she would not have to explain the presence of the "item" located in the very top of her chest.
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Although her mother had assured her that it was a perfectly normal custom for the father of the bride to pass down an implement of correction to the groom, Anna couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about the worn piece of shoe leather she had yet to present to her husband that day. The afternoon and evening passed as if in a whirlwind, with Joseph’s closest friends and neighbors offering gifts to the newlyweds. Although her husband was often surrounded by the men of the community—as was Anna by the local women— she was thrilled by the secret glances that Joseph sent her way throughout the party. His eyes promised more of the passion that the young woman had been introduced to just the night before, and Anna felt her body answering in ways she had not expected. As the tingling warmth spread, her dread of the upcoming task was forgotten. By the time the tables were cleared and the neighbors had dispersed for the evening, Anna had completely forgotten her promise to her father. Several hours later, she was drifting off to sleep in her husband’s arms, when she once again remembered her promise. When she started, Joseph’s arms tightened about her protectively. "What is it, Anna?" he asked with concern in his voice. "A nightmare, perhaps?" "Oh, no, Joseph," Anna replied nervously. "’Tis just—just that I’ve forgotten something I was instructed to do, and I fear you’ll be wroth with me for shirking my duty." Hearing the dread in his young wife’s voice, Joseph pushed himself to an upright position and lit the lamp near his side of the bed. Light flared about the room, and he turned and caught Anna’s face between his hands. "Anna, I hope you know you can trust me. Whatever it is that you’ve not done, I promise to listen and treat you fairly. I would not have you afraid of me, Mrs. Zook."
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Gazing up into Joseph’s blue eyes, Anna realized anew how lucky she was to have made such a good match. Swallowing her fears, she offered her husband a shaky smile and forced the words to come. "Joseph, my father entrusted something to me on the morning of our wedding, and instructed me to present it to you once we had arrived at our own home. I realize now that I disobeyed that command by not turning this over to you as soon as the chest had been brought into the house." As she spoke, Anna climbed out of the large bed and walked around to the wall opposite the headboard. Opening the dowry chest, she retrieved the item in question. Then, returning to the bed, she solemnly handed her husband the piece of well-worn shoe leather. "If you feel it best to punish me for this indiscretion," Anna continued humbly, "I will, of course, submit to your authority." Joseph looked from his wife’s anxious face to the leather he held in his hand. Nearly a foot in length, it was clearly made from the soles of a pair of boots, which had been cut away from the no-longer useful shoes and stitched together. Clearly, the implement had been reinforced with something solid yet flexible in between, and the narrow heel end was slightly curled, indicating it had been used as a handle. "Anna," Joseph said gently, "I am pleased you entrusted this to me, for in truth, your father told me of his instructions to you and what I could expect to receive this day. Had you not given me this paddle, I would have been forced to discipline you myself. However, you did follow his instructions, making me grateful to know I have such an honest and trustworthy wife." Setting the paddle down on the bedside stand, Joseph pulled Anna into strong arms. "Thank you, Mrs. Zook, for your trust in me. I promise you, I will never use this
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implement in anger or with the intent to truly hurt you, but only when ‘tis necessary for your instruction and guidance. That is my solemn vow as your husband." Anna’s eyes were filled with tears of gratitude as Joseph blew out the candle and rolled over towards her, aching to love her for the second time that night. ______________ In the next few weeks, young Anna gradually grew accustomed to her new life. After rising before the sun to prepare a hearty breakfast for her hard working husband, the young woman would set to work cleaning or sewing until the sun was up. Then she would gather the eggs and walk into town to sell them to Jacob Smythe, proprietor of Steitztown’s general store. Of course, Anna was expected to be back home in time to have Joseph’s lunch on the table when he hurried in from the fields. Afternoons were spent doing laundry and maintaining the garden, and the newly married woman was always sure to have a hot supper waiting for her husband when he walked in the door at night. Six days a week the young couple followed this schedule, and on the seventh day, they rested just as the good Lord had intended. It was on one of those Sundays that the trouble first presented itself. Following Sunday morning services, the congregation was enjoying a potluck dinner at the local Mennonite church. Joseph was standing with a group of fellow farmers, deep in discussion about the Farmer’s Almanac’s prediction for an early winter, when he noticed his wife speaking animatedly with the widow Carter. His eyes narrowing in distaste, Joseph Zook excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to his wife’s side. "Excuse me, ladies,"
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he said in an even tone. "May I have a word with you, Anna?" "Why, of course, Joseph," Anna said, puzzled by the cool look in her husband's eye. In the weeks they’d known one another, the young woman had not seen her husband look quite so cool, and she sensed he was upset over something. "Won’t you excuse me, Mrs. Carter?" "Of course, dear," the older woman said, a shrewd glitter of amusement in her eyes. Joseph led his young wife around the side of the church building, where he’d parked their buggy. As soon as he was sure they were out of earshot of any of their fellow church members, he asked her in a low tone, "Anna, how well do you know Lucille Carter?" Anna looked up at her husband with more than a little concern in her eyes. She had no idea why Joseph seemed so upset, but she knew it must have something to do with 33-year-old neighbor she’d just been talking to. "Well, I do pass by her house every day, Joseph—when I’m taking the eggs into town. I’ve stopped to chat a few times, but that’s the extent of our friendship. Why?" Joseph was tight-lipped, his expression one of obvious displeasure. "We should be going, Mrs. Zook. Gather up your dishes, and I’ll tell you about Mrs. Carter on the way home." Anna obediently complied, and the Zooks were bumping along the dirt road towards home in a matter of minutes. The young woman was surprised to find herself being lectured about her choice of friends. "Lucille Carter is a gossip, Anna—plain and simple. Her words have hurt more than a few people around here, and I’ll not have my wife developing a friendship with that busybody. We both know that an idle tongue is the devil’s plaything, do we not, Mrs. Zook?"
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Anna looked at the hands that twisted nervously in her lap. "Yes, sir," she whispered quietly. "I am sorry, Joseph. I did not know ‘twould upset you for me to associate with Mrs. Carter." They were nearing the house, and Anna looked up at her husband, her eyes brimming with tears as she formed the question she was loath to ask. "Are—are you going to punish me, Joseph?" Bringing the horses to a stop before the front door, Joseph Zook looked at the young woman who sat beside him on the buggy seat. She did, indeed, appear to be surprised by what she’d just heard and sorry to have disappointed him. Perhaps it was just her naivete that had led her to begin a friendship with Mrs. Carter, and he could hardly see punishing her for a simple mistake. "No, Anna," Joseph said gently as he brushed a tear away from her cheek. "I’m not going to chastise you at this time. I simply ask that you no longer associate yourself with the Widow Carter." "Oh, thank you, Joseph," Anna cried as she impulsively threw her arms around her husband’s neck. "I won’t stop to speak with her again, Sir—I promise!" "See that you don’t, Mrs. Zook," Joseph said firmly as held his wife close. Then grasping her shoulders gently and holding her at arm’s length, he gave her a final warning. "You may be polite, of course. But, if I should learn of your stopping there for conversation again, I will be forced to take the leather to your backside. Am I making myself clear, Anna?" Anna nodded, her eyes wide and solemn. "Yes, of course, Sir," she replied quietly. "I understand." "Good," Joseph was once again the gentle giant, smiling down at his young wife. "Come now, into the house with you. I’ll get the horses settled in and join you presently." ______________
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In the week immediately following the lecture, Anna did make an effort to avoid Mrs. Carter while walking to and from Steitztown. But as the days wore on, the young woman found herself less afraid of her husband’s wrath and more than a little indignant that Joseph would presume to choose her friends for her. Still, the thought of the leather in the top of her dowry chest kept Anna on the straight and narrow. Until, that is, the week of the storms. It had grown cold in Pennsylvania, and the local farmers were in agreement that winter would make an early appearance. It was only mid-November, and already the temperatures had dropped. A combination of rain, snow and ice had kept Joseph from the fields for three days straight, and Anna had barely been out of the cabin in all that time. With the changing temperatures and bitter winds, her husband had insisted on taking the eggs into town by wagon, so the weary Mrs. Zook had forfeited even that diversion in her normally tedious days. Finally, on Thursday of that week, the sun made an appearance. Anna was ecstatic to have things back to normal, and delighted in making her way into town that day. But coming home, the skies grew dark once again and a chill wind whipped the young woman’s cloak about her legs. When the rain started, quickly followed by near-by lightening and large pieces of hail, Anna grew frightened. She was still more than a mile from home, and unsure as to what to do. But thankfully, Lucille Carter was standing on her porch, and motioned Anna in out of the cold. Anna felt no guilt, certain that Joseph would find no fault in her taking shelter at the only house between here and their home. And indeed, Joseph would not have been angry had his wife reached home shortly after the sun
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peeked once again through the clouds. But, unfortunately for Anna, she was enjoying her longdenied visit so much that she failed to notice when the rain ceased. In fact, she was still sitting at the table sharing coffee with the Widow Carter when a wagon pulled up at the door. Anna started guiltily when she heard her husband’s deep voice call "whoa" to the horses. She was already standing, her wet bonnet in her hand, when Mrs. Carter opened her door to admit a coldly furious Joseph Zook. "Mrs. Carter," Joseph tipped his hat politely. "I’ve been quite worried about Anna, but I see that she took shelter from the storm here. Thank you much for your hospitality, but I’ll be taking my wife home now. Anna?" His voice was perfectly even, but Anna could hear the undeniable command and was at her husband’s side immediately. "Thank you, Lucille, for the coffee," she said as pleasantly as possible under the circumstances. "Of course, dear, of course. You know you’re always welcome here, Anna. Do try and stop by more often." Mrs. Carter, always a shrewd woman who delighted in reporting ill feelings between her neighbors, watched the Zooks hurry to their wagon. A smug smile played on her lips. Joseph helped his wife into the wagon and then, swinging up into the seat beside her, clicked to the horses. The wagon lurched forward, taking Anna home to the punishment she knew she would soon face. The mile that had earlier seemed such a long walk in the rain wasn’t nearly long enough, and the young woman was soon being helped down and escorted into the house. Anna was shaking when she turned to face her husband. Surely he would send her to fetch the leather and tan her good for her disobedience. But instead, he simply rubbed his eyes wearily and said in a quiet voice, "Anna, I cannot afford to miss this
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afternoon in the fields. We will deal with your defiance after supper tonight." With that, Joseph turned and stalked from the cabin, shutting the door hard as he left. If Anna had been dreading her punishment before, the afternoon was sheer torture. Four long hours she tried desperately to focus her attention on tidying their small place, feeding the animals, and all the other little chores she was accustomed to performing on a daily basis. Still, the thought of the leather leaving it’s sharp mark on her flesh would not leave her mind, and Anna was nearly in tears by the time Joseph arrived home to the extraspecial supper she had made for him. The couple ate in silence, Joseph uncommunicative and Anna quite reluctant to bring up the subject of her disobedience—or anything else, for that matter. With her stomach a-flutter with nervous energy, the young woman could do little more than pick at her food. She was glad when Joseph finished his supper and went outside to make sure that the animals were safely bedded down for the night. She finished the dishes quickly, and was sitting at the table with her needlework in her lap when he returned. "Anna," Joseph said wearily as he took a chair opposite his wife. "The time has come for us to discuss this afternoon’s difficulties. Please put your sewing down." Anna obediently placed the half-darned socks on the table and folded her hands in her lap. "Mrs. Zook, I was sore worried for you when I came in from the fields at lunch. I had taken shelter beneath the wagon during the storm, and assumed you had stopped in at one of the neighbors to get out of the cold. But by the time I made it back to the house, the sun had been shining brightly for more than an hour. Anna," Joseph said as he leaned across the table and cupped his wife’s chin in his
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hand, "I thought you’d been caught in the storm and some danger had befallen you." "Oh, Joseph," Anna said as a single tear slid down her cheek, "I am so sorry. I did not mean to stay at Mrs. Carter’s so long today. It’s just that I’ve been so lonely this week, and then it was raining and I had nowhere else to stop and—" Joseph placed his finger gently against his wife’s lips. "Anna I would not fault you for seeking shelter within the Widow Carter’s home, had it been only shelter you received. But, since you were there long after the storm subsided, I must assume that you were gossiping with the woman. It is that I take offense at, Mrs. Zook. And that you will be punished for." Anna nodded her head. "I understand, Sir. I am terribly sorry, and though I fear the punishment, I will of course submit to you." The tears were now sliding down the young woman’s cheeks, but she was willing to face the consequences of her actions bravely. "Shall I get the leather for you, Sir?" she asked in a small voice. "Yes, Anna," Joseph said firmly. "And I would have you divest yourself of your underthings as well. ‘Twill make matters easier for both of us, I think." "Yes, sir." On shaking legs, Anna went to the bedroom to do as her husband had bid her. In a few minutes, she returned to the main room of the cabin, the leather in hand and the air sending gooseflesh bubbling up the back of her legs and across her bottom now covered only by her simple skirt. The young woman was surprised to see her husband sitting in one of the chairs he had pulled out into the center of the room. Surely he did not intend—? "Come here, Mrs. Zook," Joseph said firmly, "and lay across my lap so we can have this unpleasantness over with.
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Anna stood just inside the doorway, her feet suddenly made of lead. She had not been held over a knee since she was very small, and the thought horrified her. It was so—so humiliating, so personal. She wanted to argue, to beg Joseph to allow her to bend over the table or a chair, but the words were caught in her throat. "Anna," Joseph growled out a warning, and the young woman went obediently to her husband’s side. With a deep, shuddering sigh, Anna handed the leather to her husband. "I am sorry, Joseph," she said as he guided her down and across his strong thighs. With her face mere inches from the hand-hewn floor, Anna felt keenly the humiliation of being spanked by her husband. When he guided her skirt up into the small of her back and wrapped his left arm firmly about her waist, the she felt her face flame with the shame of being forced to expose herself so fully to his gaze. She locked her legs firmly together, vowing she would exhibit as much modesty as was possible at the moment. Then the leather was resting lightly on her exposed bottom cheeks, and Joseph’s voice was firm but not unkind above her when he said, "Anna, I want you to know that I do love you. I do this not to hurt you, but to guide you towards better behavior in the future, as is my responsibility as your husband." With that the leather was raised, and then brought down with a resounding crack across quivering flesh. Anna gasped from the force of that first smack, for in truth, it had been many months since her behavior had warranted such a punishment. The first blow was followed by a second and a third, and before long the young woman had lost count as smack after bottom-
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reddening smack blazed it’s way across her unprotected flesh. "Oh! Joseph, please," Anna didn’t want to beg, but she couldn’t seem to stop the words that came out of her mouth in gasps. "I’m sorry. Please, no more. No more." "I’m sorry, Anna," Joseph said as he continued to bring the paddle down in a relentlessly unpredictable rhythm, "but I learned the hard way that a thorough spanking is the best deterrent to further disobedience. I’m sure once you’ve experienced a spanking like my own Pa gave, you’ll agree with me." The tears that had been in Anna’s eyes earlier began to roll down her cheeks in earnest when she heard her husband’s pronouncement. Her bottom was on fire, and she had no idea where to expect the next spank to fall. There was absolutely no predictability to this paddling, with Joseph landing one smack high on the crest of an uncovered cheek, and the next low across Anna’s thighs. The only sounds echoing about the room were the sharp "thwacking" of the leather, Anna’s moans and occasional pleas, and Joseph’s continuous lecture. "You will not spend any more of your time, gossiping with Lucille Carter," Joseph told his wife firmly. "Will you, Anna?" Smack! "I said, will you Anna?" "N-no sir," Anna gasped out, belatedly realizing that her husband was expecting an answer. Smack! The paddle fell again as Joseph continued his questioning. "You will not worry me by being gone over long in the mornings, will you, Mrs. Zook?" "No—no! I promise," she cried, as she felt hot burning smacks pepper her thighs. "I promise I’ll be good, Joseph. Please!" "I know you will, Anna," Joseph’s words were not unkind, despite the sharp bite of the leather.
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"We’re almost done," he reassured her as he pushed her farther across his knee. This, he knew, would open up the tender crease where buttock and thighs meet. As soon as he had concentrated the final volley of smacks to that most sensitive area, he would let his wife up. Crack! Smack! As the leather made sharp contact with the most tender of regions, Anna lost all control over her own reactions. Her legs scissored wildly in an attempt to avoid the burning punishment, but Joseph merely pinned them down with one of his own in order to have better access to her most sensitive flesh. Here, he knew, she would feel the spanking long after it was done. Hopefully, that memory would serve as a reminder to Anna, making clear his expectations to his new bride. Pinned down and helpless, Anna’s cries of pain quickly turned into body-wrenching sobs. She could no longer even beg Joseph to stop, for the ability to form coherent speech had abandoned the young woman completely. Very soon she was reduced to a limp and sobbing mess, her only thoughts concentrated on the part of her anatomy that throbbed mercilessly. The moment Joseph felt Anna grow limp, he stopped spanking and dropped the paddle to the floor. For long minutes he allowed his young wife to lie in place, quieting slowly, as he rubbed her hot, pulsing flesh. As he touched her, the newly married man felt his own body reacting to his wife’s charms. No longer clamped tightly together, her shapely thighs were now open, revealing the thatch of dark, curling hair that discreetly covered her woman’s center. Realizing he was growing tight with excitement, Joseph slowly raised his wife to her feet. This was neither the time nor the place for such activities as he found repeatedly coming to mind, and Joseph knew he needed to give his bride
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some time to think over her misdeeds before he took her to their bed for a night of passionate loving. He also needed to give his own body some time to cool down, so that he would be capable of giving her the time she would need to enjoy his touch. He only hoped she would not turn from him now, because of the punishment he’d been forced to dole out. Rising from the chair, Joseph gently brushed damp locks of chestnut hair from his wife’s forehead and left a gentle kiss in their place. "Anna," he said, taking her small hands in his own large ones. "I want you to stand in the corner for a while, and think over why you’ve been punished." As he spoke, he was leading his wife over to an empty corner of the room. "I’m going out to the barn for a few minutes, and when I come back, I want to see you right here—nose pressed to the corner, skirt held up and your bottom on display. Do you understand?" Anna nodded, her humiliation complete as she raised her skirt to reveal her scalded bottom flesh. "And no rubbing," Joseph said firmly just before he walked outside and shut the door. Anna stood in the corner for what seemed to be forever, her bottom throbbing as the cleansing tears of release coursed down her cheeks. She had defied her husband, and she had been punished. The spanking itself had been horrible, but now that she had some time to herself, the young woman found herself aching in an embarrassing way. All she wanted was for Joseph to come back to the house and lead her to their bed, where he would fill the need throbbing within her core. She only hoped he would not be so angry as to deny her that touch. When the young man did at last re-enter the house, Anna was standing just as he’d left her. She did not turn around or try to speak, but remained obediently in the corner, her nose pressed tightly to the wall. She heard him lay something on the table,
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and then he was behind her, turning her into strong arms and kissing the top of her head gently. "Have you learned your lesson, Mrs. Zook?" he asked quietly, and smiled when she nodded into his shirt. "Good," Joseph said as he took his young wife by the hand and led her to a rocker by the fire. He pulled her down into his lap, and Anna smiled secretly when she felt her husband's manhood swollen and bulging against her thigh. For several minutes, the couple’s world was reduced to their bodies pressed tightly together as the rocker creaked out its rhythm across the floorboards. Anna gladly accepted the comfort that her husband gave, gently sighing her acceptance of his authority. Finally, when her tears had ceased to flow, Joseph held his wife at arm’s length and smiled down into her eyes. "I do love you, Anna Zook. I hope you know that." "Yes, Joseph, and I love you, too. And—" she looked down, her embarrassment still great, "and I’m very sorry about today. Please forgive me, sir." Joseph pulled his wife against his chest and hugged her tight. "Of course you’re forgiven, Anna. That goes without saying. You accepted the consequences of your actions, the punishment has been meted out, and the incident is over with as far as I’m concerned. Do you understand me, wife?" Anna allowed her arms to slide up and around her husband’s neck and she gently kissed his lips. "I understand, and I thank you sir," she whispered as a pink blush spread across her pretty cheeks. "Joseph, will you—could you," Anna forced the words out, despite her embarrassment, "would you love me now, please? I do so want to feel you in that way, Mr. Zook." Joseph chuckled as he rose from his chair. His sweet, innocent little wife had taken the words right out of his mouth. He made for the bedroom door,
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and then stopped, remembering the item he had laid on the table just a few minutes prior. "Anna, I will be most pleased to love you, but there is something I wish to show you first." Striding to the table, Joseph settled the young woman on her feet and picked up the wiry cane he had brought in with him from the barn. He flexed it back and forth a few times and Anna’s eyes grew wide with recognition. "Anna, do you know what this is?" he asked presently. "It’s a—a schoolmaster’s cane," Anna said as she swallowed back her fear. Was it possible Joseph intended to punish her further yet tonight? It took a concentrated effort for Anna to maintain her ground, for she didn’t think she could withstand a caning on her already sore and aching bottom. "Joseph?" she looked up at her husband, the one word a question of his intentions. Realizing her fear, Joseph put the cane down hastily and pulled Anna against him in a fierce, protective hug. "No, no, my dear," he said gently as he stroked her long hair which had long since come loose from it’s fastenings. "I’m not going to cane you, Anna. I only brought that in to show it to you tonight. But," he said as he pulled away and tipped his wife’s chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye, "I would have you understand, that my Pa had a tradition we will carry on in our home. The first time you are spanked for something, I will use the leather your father sent with you. But, should you disobey the same rule again and make a second punishment necessary, it will be the cane you’ll feel across your bottom. Do you understand, me, Anna?" Anna nodded her understanding, silently vowing to never necessitate the use of the cane. Then, satisfied that he’d made his point clear, Joseph gathered the young woman up into his arms and carried her to their bed. There he took her mind off
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her tender bottom flesh, by skillfully loving her to the release she craved and beyond.
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Chapter Two It was just before noon on a cool Saturday in October, when Michelle Zook scrambled in the front door of her newlywed apartment, shopping bags in hand. The phone was jangling, and she hurried to the living room, managing to pick it up on the fourth ring. "Hello?" "Took you long enough, Michelle," a familiar voice greeted her. "It’s Karen. How the heck are you, Mrs. Zook?" Michelle smiled into the phone. "Karen! I was just walking in the door, but I’m sure glad I got to the phone. We never talk anymore. Where are you this time? San Francisco? Chicago?" "Actually," Karen Robards said, her voice a bit smug over the telephone line. "I’m a lot closer than that. In fact—" A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. "Shoot," Michelle said, "Somebody’s at my door, Karen. Hang on a sec." Laying down the phone, the young woman crossed the living room and rounded the corner to the breezeway, eager to be rid of whoever was at the door. "Probably just another window and siding salesman," she muttered as she wrestled with the consistently stubborn doorknob. A stream of profanity was still coming out of her mouth when the knob finally turned and the door was flung wide. "Well, criminy," a smiling blonde said as she took her cell phone away from her ear. "See if I
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show up for a surprise visit at your house again, 'Chelle! What a way to greet a guest." "Karen!" Michelle exclaimed, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?" Karen giggled, her hazel eyes lighting up as she hugged her former college roommate and best friend. "Hey, gal! Are you going to quiz me or are you going to invite me into this haven of marital bliss?" "Sorry," Michelle said through her laughter. "It’s just such a surprise to see you. Come on in and sit down." Ushering Karen into the living room, Michelle managed to hang up the phone before she plopped down on the sofa. "When did you get into town, Karen? And more importantly, why didn’t you give me some warning. I could have made dinner for us." Karen grinned as she ran her fingers through her chin-length blonde hair. Dressed in a pair of faded black denim jeans and an oversized red sweatshirt, the young woman kicked off her shoes and tucking her legs up under her, swiveled on the sofa to face her friend. "I was just supposed to have a one-hour layover at Port Columbus, but the plane to Nashville had mechanical difficulties. I was going to be stuck here over night anyway, so I decided to save the boss some money and turn this into a short visit— just to keep mom happy, of course." Michelle grinned at Karen. "So, how long did you actually spend talking with the general" she asked, "before you had to get away?" Karen looked heavenward, an exasperated smile playing about her lips. "Just long enough for us to get to the subject of husbands, and my lack thereof. I figured that was a good jumping-off point, so I asked about you and Paul. The minute she said your hubby was going to be away all weekend on a business trip—"
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"You had a legit excuse to high-tail it out of there!" Both girls laughed at the uncanny way they had always been able to finish each other’s sentences. "I try, ‘Chelle," Karen shook her head ruefully. "I really do, but she just makes me so nuts sometimes." "I know," Michelle said, her expression turning thoughtful, "and she certainly doesn’t make it any easier. You know you can hang out here as long as you like, Karen." "Thanks," Karen said as she leaned forward and caught Michelle in a friendly hug. "But, hey! That’s enough of my whining. So, tell me. How’s married life? And did you ever think you’d marry into my crazy family?" Michelle smiled and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. "Honestly, Karen, it’s a miracle I ever got up the nerve to come home with you that Thanksgiving, what with your horror stories and all. But I’m glad you did convince me to tag along, or I’d never have met Paul." Karen beamed, glad that her one and only attempt at matchmaking had been so successful. "So, how is that cousin of mine? Still as perfect after four months of marriage?" "Perfect? Well, he’s a pretty great guy, of course. But he does leave dirty clothes on the floor. And," Michelle added, almost as an afterthought, "he is kind of bossy." Karen looked at Michelle, her face a mask of incredulous surprise. "Bossy? Surely not Paul Zook! Why no Zook man has ever been bossy, Michelle." "All right, all right," Michelle conceded with a smile. "You told me so. Right? Go ahead—I know you’re dying to say it." "Well," Karen’s lop-sided grin was mischievous, as she milked the moment for all it was worth, "I do believe I may have warned you about that
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particular family trait, but back then, you thought Paul could do no wrong." Then her glance fell on the blanket chest that was proudly displayed across the room, and the young woman sobered. "But seriously, ‘Chelle, is it a problem for you? I mean— well, I grew up with Paul, and he’s a nice guy. But I also know his dad, and my Uncle Jay was never one to be pushed around. I always wondered if Paul would take on some of that stubbornness as he aged." "Oh, he’s stubborn, all right," Michelle said as her eyes followed Karen’s and came to rest on the antique chest. "But it hasn’t been a problem so far. Only—" she bit her bottom lip and contemplated her next words. Dare she ask the question? She did not want to offend Karen in any way, but perhaps Paul’s cousin would know enough of the history of the family heirloom to be able to shed some light on the cane that resided in the bottom drawer. Finally, she drew in a deep breath and asked the question that had been nagging at her for months now. "Only I have to ask you something, Karen. Something that may seem completely wacky, but I don’t mean any offense. Okay?" Karen nodded, already half expecting the question her friend was going to ask. "Sure. Ask away, Michelle. We’re friends, and nothing you ask is going to change that." "Well," Michelle began as she hesitantly left her end of the sofa and went to the blanket chest, where she crouched down and opened the bottom drawer. "It’s about this cane," she continued as she pulled out the old schoolmaster’s cane and carefully shut the drawer. "Paul said—well, I could hardly believe it, but—" "He said the Zook men used that cane to keep their wives in line?" Karen finished the thought, and Michelle turned around to find her friend smiling at her. "So, you want to know if it’s true?"
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"Well," the newest Zook bride flexed the cane ever so gently, "Yes. I guess I do. I mean, it seems so outrageous now, but those were different times. What do you know about it, Karen? Did the Zook men really spank their wives with this stick to keep them in check?" Karen held out her hand, silently requesting a chance to hold the implement in question. As Michelle sank down onto the couch, she reverently handed the 163-year-old cane to her frie nd, and waited for her explanation. "Well, ‘Chelle," Karen began, her eyes focusing on the cane. Since Grandma Marie was quite the historian, I’ve heard all the same stories as Paul. She apparently got hold of Anna Zook’s journal, and she used to read excerpts of it to us. After she died, Mom found a whole sheaf of manuscript-type pages tucked away in Grandma’s roll-top desk. It seems she had used the journals as the basis for a family history she was writing. And I’m telling you, she didn’t leave anything out! Even the spankings were in there, just like they’d been described in the journals and diaries kept by Zook women down through the years." Michelle shook her head, trying not to show Karen how just hearing about a man spanking his wife affected her. She had always found it somehow arousing, since the day long ago when she had opened one of her mother’s romance novels to a rather juicy scene. She could still remember that book, and the fact that the hero had taken the stubborn heroine over his knee for an old fashioned bottom-warming. But, as she’d moved through high school and then college, Michelle had decided that it was inappropriate for her to have such feelings over a chauvinistic – and possibly abusive – act. For a very long time, she’d denied the strange butterflies that flitted about in her stomach at just the mention of spanking.
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But ever since Paul had brought up the subject, she had been unable to shove the unwanted desires to the back of her mind. And now, here she was, sitting across from her best friend, asking to hear about the family history of Zook men taking a firm hand with their wives. Part of her was screaming, "Michelle, you’re crazy!" But the other part, the stronger part, just couldn’t resist. She simply had to know what it had been like for those Zook wives of long ago. Had it really hurt? Did they feel abused? Or did any of them like it, even just a little? Michelle simply could not keep her curiosity under control any longer so, screwing up her courage, she voiced the question that had been on her mind since the day the blanket chest had been delivered to her home. "Karen, do you suppose that Anna Zook was ever really caned by her husband?" Karen looked up at Michelle, her gaze speculative. "Yeah, I’m sure she was—more than once, in fact. But I’ll never forget hearing the story of her first experience with this wicked-looking thing." Karen flexed the cane back and forth, then risked another look at her friend. "You want to hear it?" Michelle’s grin was lopsided, and obviously embarrassed, but she couldn’t help wanting to know about that spanking. "Yeah. Tell me about it, Karen—about Anna and this cane." ______________ Pennsylvania April, 1836 Anna Zook hummed as she hung the wash on the line to dry. It was a beautiful day, and after the grueling winter, the young woman was grateful for the sunshine and gentle spring breeze. It was a Tuesday, and Joseph was out tending the wheat fields as he did every day of the week, save
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Sunday. The farm was the Zook’s livelihood, and Anna was grateful to have such a hard-working man for a husband. Although hers had been an arranged marriage, she had quickly come to admire and yes—even love—her husband. Joseph Zook was a gentleman in every sense of the word. Though their home was simple, and their luxuries few and far between, life on their Pennsylvania farm was good. "Anna!" The voice startled the young woman, and she turned quickly in search of the source. It was usually so quiet out here, for the nearest neighbor was a good mile away, and she was not expecting company. Turning toward the road, Anna shaded her eyes with her hand. "Oh my," she whispered to herself, "it’s Lucille Carter. Now, what in the world brings her here in the middle of the day?" With a dawning uneasiness, she laid down one of Joseph’s freshly washed work shirts and began to traipse in the Widow Carter’s direction. Although it had been months since Joseph had spanked her for whiling away her time gossiping with this particular neighbor, Anna could yet remember the sharp sting of leather on her backside. She had no desire to repeat her act of disobedience, for she knew Joseph had been serious when he told her a second spanking for the same crime would result in the use of the schoolmaster’s cane his father had given him. The young bride had never experienced a caning, although she had heard the whistling crack and the heartfelt cries of pain and remorse plenty of times during her years in Lancaster County’s one room schoolhouse. The schoolmarm had firmly believed that anyone who earned a whipping by acting up in class should endure that whipping in front of the class. However, since the schoolhouse had been filled with both boys and girls, and Miss Cramer believed that all chastisements should be
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applied to a bare bottom, the canings had always been heard, but not seen. Many’s the time a rowdy youngster, caught talking or passing notes once too often, had been called to the front of the class. Miss Cramer would instruct the offender to fetch the cane from its place on the wall, and then she would lead the student to the small office located just off the front of the room. The door would be left open far enough so that her firm command for the student to bare his or her bottom could be heard by all. The offender was then required to count each stroke of the cane, and thank his teacher for it, before the next could be applied. Anna could not remember a time that Miss Cramer had offered less than five strokes as punishment. Nor could she think of even one instance when the child in question had not been crying when he left the small office behind the classroom. Every time it was applied, the whistling cane had elicited tears, even from the oldest boys and girls in the class, teaching Anna by example that she wanted no part of such punishment. The fear itself had ensured her good behavior, and she had never felt even one stroke of the fearsome cane. As Lucille Carter neared the Zook’s home, Anna remembered the sound of the narrow, whippy stick as it made contact with the bottom of one student or the other, and she knew she must be careful. Joseph had already promised her a caning should he ever again need to punish her for wasting her time in the company of the church gossip. She had no desire to feel the punishment her classmates had described as a "line of fire burning across your backside", so she vowed silently to get rid of Mrs. Carter as quickly as possible. "Well, Anna, how are you?" the Widow Carter gushed as she accosted the younger woman with a
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smothering hug. "It’s been such a long time since we’ve talked." "I’m well, Lucille." Anna smiled, trying hard to walk the line between being polite and being friendly. "And you?" "Well, fine—just fine," Lucille beamed. "Why, it’s been just wonderful to get out of the house after all that dreadful snow. And so, I thought I’d come over and chat with you a while. How did you and Joseph fare this winter?" As they talked, Lucille was steering the two of them towards the front door of the house Joseph and Anna shared. Recognizing her intent, Anna deliberately stopped at the clothesline and reached into the basket for another of her husband’s work shirts. She was determined not to allow her nosey neighbor to invite herself in, where Anna would then be expected to put on a pot of coffee and sit down for a proper conversation. Perhaps if she could keep her outside and appear busy enough, Lucille would get tired of standing around and decide to go home. "Oh, we did just fine," Anna said as she returned to her chores. "But I’ve so much to get caught up on, now that the weather’s turned warm again. I imagine you’ve been busy too, Lucille. What brings you way out here on a day so good for tending wash or preparing the garden?" "Well," Lucille said with an air of injured feelings, "I just wanted to check on my newly wed friend, and make sure married life was agreeing with you. After all," she leaned closer to Anna and half-whispered, "I heard your in-laws were here a week or two ago, and I was a bit worried. Joseph’s mother does have the reputation of being somewhat hard to please, if you catch my drift." Anna looked up, too surprised to continue with her charade of pretended busyness. Indeed, her mother-in-law had been something of a thorn in her side during that visit. Was it possible Lucille Carter
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could truly understand how difficult it had been for Anna to serve an imperfect dinner to the most perfect woman who had ever walked the earth? Nothing she’d done that day had turned out right, and Joseph’s mother had been quick to offer her many helpful suggestions on how to improve her skills as a cook and housewife. As soon as his parents had left, Joseph had gone out to the barn to tend to the animals and Anna had dissolved into tears. Clearly, Caroline Zook did not think Anna was good enough for her son. Of course, it hadn’t helped a bit when Joseph had come in from the barn and, asking the reason for her tears, had laughed the entire matter off. Anna had kept her feelings to herself since then, but it hadn’t been easy. And now, as the opportunity to discuss the situation presented itself, the young bride did not even notice the way that her previous concerns about the Widow Carter dissolved. She was simply glad to have a sympathetic ear, and suddenly her damn of common sense broke. "Oh, Lucille," she said around a mouthful of wooden clothespins, "I thought it was just me she didn’t like. I’m so glad to hear that I’m not the only one who’s seen that side of her." "Heavens no!" Lucille exclaimed, her ears perking up at the promise of some juicy gossip. "I take it she gave you a difficult way to go then, my dear? Well, from what I’ve heard, you’re certainly not the only one who’s felt the sharp side of that woman’s tongue. So, tell me all about it." An hour later, Lucille Carter left Anna with a hug and a smile, promising to keep their conversation in confidence. Anna did not see the smug look on her neighbor’s face as she turned and headed back down the road. If she had, she would have realized her mistake at once. But since she did not catch the Widow Carter’s pleased-with-herself smile, she had
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no clue of the trouble that would soon come her way. ______________ The rest of the week progressed as usual for Anna and Joseph, except for the fact that the young Mrs. Zook felt a niggling finger of guilt whenever Joseph brought up anything to do with his family. Anna had seen no reason to go borrowing trouble by telling her husband about Lucille Carter’s visit, but by the next day, she had regretted confiding in the woman. Of course, she had held onto the fact that Lucille had promised to keep the conversation in confidence and had continued to tell herself that Mrs. Carter would honor her word. At least she hoped her neighbor wouldn’t repeat some of the less-than-kind things Anna had said about her mother-in-law. Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. The words could not be taken back, nor could she conjure up a legitimate excuse to pay a visit to the Widow Carter and thereby set her mind at ease about the entire episode. All she could do now was pray that her hastily spoken words did not get back to Joseph. On Saturday morning, Joseph slept later than usual, and Anna actually had to go in and wake him when his breakfast was on the table. He had worked hard all week, and fallen into bed each night as soon as the evening chores were done. There had been no time or energy for loving embraces and the labors of passion, and Anna had been feeling rather neglected. Being a wise man, Joseph had not overlooked his wife’s feelings, and he was pleased to surprise her with promises of a picnic lunch and a trip to town. "So, Anna, if you’ll put together a basket of that left-over fried chicken and some corn cakes, we’ll leave as soon as I’ve got the chores done. What do you say?"
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Anna bounded around the table and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. Joseph pulled the young woman into his lap, and they shared a deep kiss that hinted at the passion to come. "Oh, Joseph, " Anna breathed in her husband’s ear when he finally released his claim on her lips. "That would be just wonderful. How can I ever thank you?" "Hmmm, "Joseph mused with a sly grin. "I’m sure I can think of something, Mrs. Zook." Then, giving her shapely bottom a firm smack, the young man set his wife on her feet and headed towards the door. "Can you be ready in an hour, Anna?" "Certainly, Sir." "All right then, Mrs. Zook," Joseph said over his shoulder. "It’s a date. I’ll be back in an hour to get you---and that delicious fried chicken." With that, he headed to the barn, chuckling to himself on the way. The picnic was wonderful, and Anna gloried in having her husband’s undivided attention. Joseph drove the buggy to a beautiful little spot he’d discovered just at the edge of their property, and the couple ate lunch to the sounds of bird song and the chattering of squirrels. They sat along the bank of a quiet stream, talking of their home and their dreams for the future. Anna was anxious to start a family, and Joseph’s smile dazzled her when he told her he would like that as well. It was a good day to be young and in love. In town, Joseph handed his wife a bit of coin and pointed her to the home of a local woman who made bonnets. "Why don’t you go in there and take a look around," he said with an indulgent smile. "It seems to me you’re in need of a new spring bonnet, Anna. Don’t you think?" Anna’s expression was a rapturous smile, and she threw her arms about her husband’s neck right there in the middle of the town’s most traveled
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street. "Oh, Joseph! How can I ever thank you?" she whispered as she nuzzled her husband’s ear. Joseph planted a gentle kiss on the top of his wife’s head. Just meet me back at the wagon in half-an-hour. I’m sure we can think of some way for you to thank me properly, once we’re back at home." Smiling at the promise of the passion to come, Anna made her way to Mrs. Jacob’s shop with a lighthearted step. Twenty minutes later, she climbed back into the wagon, sporting a lovely new bonnet the shade of a Robin’s egg. White ribbons and lace complimented the hand-made confection, and Anna was posed prettily when Joseph came out of the store and took his place beside her. "So, what do you think of my hat?" Anna asked as Joseph settled into his seat and took the reigns in hand. "Do you like it?" "It’s fine, I guess," Joseph said, and Anna was hit with the realization that his voice and demeanor had completely changed. Looking up at her husband, the young woman was surprised to note his stony profile, and immediately blurted out, "Joseph, what’s wrong?" Joseph clicked to the horses and the buggy lurched forward, throwing Anna off balance. Taking a more-than-firm grasp on his wife’s upper arm, the young man helped her to regain her balance before replying tersely, "We’ll talk at home." They rode the rest of the way in silence, Joseph speaking only to the horses when necessary, and Anna staring down at the hands that twisted and wrinkled her skirts. Was there some problem with the seed, or the farm that had caused Joseph’s anger? Or, she wondered silently, had she done something to anger him. And if so, what? The young woman was still pondering those questions when her husband reigned in the horses before the front door of their modest cabin.
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Ever the gentleman, Joseph jumped down from the wagon and then made his way around to Anna’s side, where he offered her a hand down. His words were clipped by a tone of subdued fury when he told his wife, "Go on in and get supper started Anna. I’ve chores to attend to." By now, Anna was in torment, unable to hold her tongue any longer. "No," she said quietly. Joseph was reaching for the horses’ reigns, intending to lead them to the barn, when that one word brought him up short. His normally ice-blue eyes were flashing fire as he rounded on his wife. "What did you just say to me?" Anna flinched at his razor-sharp tone, but bravely stood her ground. "I said no, Joseph. I don’t know what’s happened, but I’m certainly not going to go skulking off to the kitchen just because you’re suddenly in a temper over heaven- knows-what." Before she could so much as predict his next move, Joseph had taken a firm grip on his wife’s arm and was practically dragging her into the house. Kicking the door shut behind him, the young man grasped Anna’s shoulders and turned her around to face him. "I suppose," he ground out through clenched teeth, "that I should not be surprised by your defiance, in light of the tale I heard coming out of the Widow Carter’s mouth this afternoon. She seemed to know quite a bit about your relationship with my mother." Joseph’s keen eyes did not miss the way his wife’s face turned scarlet, verifying her guilt. "Now how was it she described the woman that gave me life? Let’s see. I do believe she referred to her as a ‘bossy old witch’. Said she was impossible to please, and merciless in her criticism. Now, Anna," he said as he pinned his bride with a piercing gaze, "do any of those phrases ring a bell with you? Because, when I rebuked that gossipmonger for spreading untruths, she was more than
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happy to tell me she’d gotten her information straight from the horses mouth." "I—oh, Joseph," Anna began as the tears welled up in her eyes. "I didn’t mean to say those things. It’s just that Lucille came by on Tuesday, and I was still fretting over that dinner with your folks, and when she asked me about it…" "You couldn’t keep your mouth shut?" Joseph’s tone was one of derision, and Anna felt the rebuke keenly. "I’m so sorry," she said, as tears slipped down her cheeks. "Please, Joseph, I know you have every right to be angry with me, but won’t you please forgive me? I didn’t mean to hurt you." Joseph took a deep, steadying breath before he walked Anna to the corner and turned her to face the wall. "Mrs. Zook, I have need of some time alone before I can deal with your disobedience and the hurtful words that have been said. I want you to stand here with your nose in the corner while I get the animals bedded down for the night. We will discuss this when I am sufficiently calm." "But, Joseph—" Anna began to argue, but a stinging slap to her skirted bottom effectively silenced her protests. "Anna," Joseph said from behind her. "You can believe me when I tell you that you do not want me to take a cane to your backside just now, for I’m certainly not of a mind to be reasonable. Now, I suggest you close your mouth and remain in this corner until I come back, lest you force me to do something we would both surely regret." "Y-yes, sir." Joseph’s steps were heavy on the wood floor as he crossed to the door and opened it. His final comment to his wife was a warning, plain and simple. "And Anna," he said, "you’d best be right there when I get back. Because, should you defy me by leaving that corner, I can guarantee you that you’ll not enjoy the consequences."
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"Y-y-yes s-sir," Anna sobbed out as Joseph slammed the door behind him. Anna stood in the corner for what she felt sure was more than the normal hour it took Joseph to complete his evening chores. Still, she did not dare defy her husband, despite the fact that her legs and back were aching horribly, for she knew that very soon that discomfort would be eclipsed by a new and far worse sort of pain. Scenes from her school days replayed in her mind over and over again, and her stomach churned with the very thought of the way the cane would whistle as it sliced through the air. She recalled the tear-stained face of every classmate she had ever seen come out of that small office after a "discussion" with Miss Cramer and her implement of choice. How would she, Anna Zook, ever endure such a punishment? It seemed an eternity before she heard Joseph open the door, yet she feared it had not been long enough. The thought of a caning weighed so heavily on Anna’s mind that she did not believe she would be able to move from her spot, let alone lift her skirts and bare herself to her husband’s gaze. But then he was calling her to the bedroom, and the young woman found her feet moving woodenly in the direction of her husband’s voice. Once she had parted the curtains that separated their sleeping quarters from the rest of the house, Joseph motioned Anna to take a seat at the foot of the bed. His frame was tall and imposing as he leaned against the blanket chest, cane in hand. "Anna," he began solemnly, "I want you to understand first and foremost that I love you, and that I am no longer wroth with you. But I was angry to hear my mother so insulted by Mrs. Carter, and further hurt to learn that she was repeating your words. Tell me, Mrs. Zook—Do you really harbor such ill feelings towards my mother?"
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Anna swallowed hard, trying to fight the tears that wanted to overwhelm her yet again. "Oh, Joseph. I am so sorry. I was hurt by the way your mother pointed out my every failing, but it’s no excuse for the things I said. Can you ever forgive me?" Joseph quietly placed the cane behind him on the chest before he crouched down, bringing his gaze level with that of his wife. "Of course I forgive you, Anna, even though we both know I must follow through with the punishment I promised the last time we discussed your habit of gossiping with Mrs. Carter. But right now, what I want to know is what I can do to ease the hurt my mother’s words apparently caused you." Taking his wife’s cold hands in his own, Joseph looked so earnest that Anna could not help but burst into tears once again. "I- I don’t know," she stammered unhappily. "I just – well, when I burnt the chicken and the biscuits wouldn’t rise, and your mother kept pointing out everything I’d done wrong – well, I just felt so foolish. I knew she didn’t think I was good enough for you, and it just hurt so much!" At that moment, Anna broke down completely, bringing her hands up to cover her face as she sobbed. "Why, Anna?" Joseph asked quietly, his tone of voice tender and concerned. "Because I love you," Anna cried out, in between wrenching sobs. "And if I’m not good enough for you, then you can’t possibly love me back. And – and I don’t think I can stand it if you don’t love me, Joseph. I just don’t think I can stand it!" Joseph was so touched by his wife’s humble admission that he instantly sat down beside her and pulled her into a fierce embrace. For long minutes, he held her with infinite tenderness, his hand making small, soothing circles on her back. Over and over, he whispered sweet reassurances of his
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love for her while he waited for her cries to quiet. Finally, when she seemed to have regained some measure of her womanly composure, Joseph held his wife out at arm’s length and looked down into her tear-swollen green eyes. "Anna Zook," he said firmly, "I do love you. And there is nothing that anyone – not even my own mother – can say to change that fact. Do you understand that?" Anna nodded solemnly. The light in her husband’s eyes was enough to convince her of his sincerity, and she suddenly felt rather foolish for believing for one moment that he felt any differently. "I understand," she whispered. "Good," Joseph said with a smile. "And furthermore, Anna, I’m sorry that my mother made you feel ill at ease. I realize now that she must have seemed quite imposing to you that day, and that I should have been more diligent both in my praise of you, and in listening to your concerns after they’d left. Now then, Mrs. Zook, can you forgive me for not recognizing the seriousness of your feelings?" Looking up at her husband, Anna nodded quietly. "Of course, Joseph. I’m so sorry for all of this. It really was all my fault and— " Joseph placed a gentle finger against his wife’s lips, effectively silencing her. He did not wish for the young woman to berate herself, when it had been a combination of her insecurities and his lack of understanding that had led to the problem in the first place. In fact, he was loathe to punish her now, even though he knew he needed to establish the fact that gossip – for any reason – would not be tolerated in their home. The moment that Anna recognized her husband’s reluctance, she sat up straight and looked at him with a dignified calm. Her voice was quiet but steady when she said,
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"Joseph, I know that it was wrong of me to speak to Lucille Carter about my feelings, rather than bringing them to you. And though I dread it, I know that I deserve to be punished. So please," she said as she rose from the bed and, reaching up beneath her skirts, slid her bloomers to the floor, "let’s have this done with, Sir." With that, Anna stepped out of the white cotton underthings that had puddled about her feet. Then, carefully placing the cane to her right side, the young woman leaned over the blanket chest and stretched her arms out to grasp the far side of the lid. Joseph stood and took a deep breath before reaching for the cane. Slowly, he raised his wife’s skirts, baring her creamy bottom flesh to his gaze. The sight of her lovely rounded bottom, and the garters that held her stockings at mid-thigh made his manhood swell to new proportions. He ran the back of one finger across the area that would soon feel the sting of the cane and asked quietly, "Anna, have you ever been caned?" Anna’s timid voice nearly undid Joseph’s resolve when she answered his question with a whispered, "No." "Then I think," he said with a voice filled with compassion, "that half-a-dozen strokes will be plenty for your first time, Mrs. Zook. This will hurt, but if you stay in position, it will all be over with quickly." Anna felt the cane held lightly against the middle of her bottom, and her "Yes," was cle arly spoken when Joseph asked if she was ready. Then she felt her husband draw his arm back, and the fearful schoolmaster’s cane was whistling down to make contact with her naked flesh. Thwipp! It took a moment for the pain to register, and then Anna was shifting from foot to foot as she gasped in a ragged breath. Before she
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could even contemplate leaving her position, the cane cut through the air a second time, and a third. The tears that had formed in her eyes with the first cut were rolling down her cheeks by the time a fourth line of fire blazed it’s way across the lower part of her bottom cheeks. "Oh – oh!" Anna cried out, her knuckles turning white as she grasped the edge of the chest even tighter. The young woman longed to jump up, longed to beg her husband to stop inflicting the horrible pain, but she did not. Instead, she laid her head down on the chest and gave herself up to the sobs that claimed her body. Joseph’s hand was a tender caress on her shoulder as he told her lovingly, "Just two more, Anna, and then it’s done. Can you be still for just two more?" Anna nodded her ascent, and Joseph quickly finished the caning with two sharp blows to the back of his wife’s shapely thighs. Each stroke of the cane left angry red weals, the last of which was still forming when the young husband dropped the cane and pulled his crying wife up into strong arms. "I’m sorry," Anna murmured over and over again, as Joseph gently held her against his chest. "Shhhh…you’re forgiven," he told her as he carried her to the bed. Then, laying his wife down on her belly, he made short work of the buttons at the back of her dress. In moments she was naked to his gaze, and Joseph’s callused hands were tender as he rubbed Anna’s back. She was beautiful, but so exhausted that the young man did not wish to burden her with the knowledge of his overwhelming need. Instead, he sat beside her, his every touch a reassurance of his love as she cried out her remorse. No, he would not ask that of her tonight. However, Anna did not see her husband’s need as a burden. For the moment he joined her in their
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bed, the young woman turned to her husband with a desire fierce enough to match his own. As the sun slipped away and the room darkened, Joseph and Anna lost themselves in one another and found themselves again in their love.
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Chapter Three "It cost how much?" Paul Zook stood in the foyer of the apartment he had shared with his wife of nearly a year, gesturing at a small, four-legged table with a slanted top. "Michelle, tell me you didn’t say you paid two-hundred and fifty dollars for that table. Please!" "Well, I –" Michelle brushed a sweat-dampened auburn curl from her forehead and smiled placatingly at her husband. "I liked it, honey. And really, two-fifty was a bargain. This is a genuine nineteenth century…" "I don’t care what century it’s from, Michelle," Paul interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand. "It’s going back. End of story! You got me?" "Oh, I’ve got you alright, Paul Zook," Michelle’s could hear the shrill nature of her voice, but felt unable to calm herself. "You seem to be under the mistaken assumption that I take orders from you, Mr. Boss-man. But just in case you’ve forgotten, this marriage is a partnership – not a dictatorship. I work and earn money too, and I can buy something for the house if I want. How dare you order me around like I’m your little servant girl or something? How dare you?" The young woman stood in the doorway, trembling with indignation and rage. This was not the way she had pictured her husband’s homecoming after a three-night business trip across the country. She had missed him so much, damn it, and he had started yelling practically the minute he’d walked in the door. She could hardly believe
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the way he was acting. It was as if her gentle husband had been suddenly transformed into some kind of a Neanderthal from the dark ages. He actually seemed convinced he had a right to give her orders. Criminy! Michelle loved her husband, but she was going to have to put a stop to this attitude, and quick. No way was she going to let her husband push her around. "How did you pay for it?" Paul’s voice was terse as he brushed past his wife, moving into the living room where he set down his flight bag and laptop computer. "Which credit card is going to be socking us interest on that writing stand, or whatever you called it?" Michelle turned and leaned against the doorway that opened from the foyer into the room where her husband was now standing, arms folded stonily over his chest. "I didn’t charge it, honey, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just wrote a check, so you don’t need to worry about interest. Okay? It’s really no big deal." "No big deal," Paul muttered as he sank wearily down onto the recliner. "Since when is two-hundred and fifty bucks no big deal, Michelle? I thought we agreed that any single purchase over seventy -five dollars was to be approved by both of us first. Or did you forget that little rule?" "Honestly," Michelle pouted from the doorway, "I didn’t know it would bother you so much, Paul. After all, it isn’t what you’d call a personal purchase. It’s for the house, for heaven’s sake." "And that’s supposed to make it okay, babe?" Paul shook his head solemnly. "It may be for the house, but it’s certainly not anything we needed. Now come over here and sit down. I want to know exactly what possessed you to make such a purchase, and just how you plan to cover that check, considering the fact that we do not have
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two-hundred and fifty dollars in the checking account right now." Michelle moved warily to the couch and perched on the end, realizing that her husband was not going to make this easy for her. "I was just going to take it out of—" "Damn it, Michelle! If you tell me you’re going to take it out of our savings, I swear I’ll – I’ll –" "You’ll what, Paul?" The young woman rose from her seat, jabbing her hands on her hips. "You’ll scream? You’ll holler? You’ll throw a fit, Paul? Is that it?" Michelle stalked across the room and yanked open the bottom drawer of the blanket chest that had been in her husband’s family for years. "Or will you turn out to be just like one of your caveman ancestors?" Retrieving a long, flexible cane with a curved handle, she marched across the room and held out the piece of Zook family history. Her tone was icy as she spit out the angry words. "Will you beat me, Paul? Is that what you’ll do?" Paul shot to his feet, his face a taut mask of anger. Michelle took an instinctive step backwards when her husband jerked the schoolmaster’s cane from her hand. Something strange – an indefinable emotion – coiled in her stomach. Fear, excitement and dread mingled with an odd swell of desire before Michelle managed to squash the longing she deemed inappropriate. What on earth was she trying to prove? But the moment of anticipation was quickly gone when a furious Paul returned the cane to it’s usual place and, after nudging the drawer shut with his foot, stalked back through the foyer. Michelle’s tears were already beginning to flow as the front door shook on its hinges. He was gone. ______________ Several hours later, after the candles on the dinner table had burned down to nubs and the
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garbage disposal had feasted on Paul’s favorite curried chicken, Michelle sank into her favorite rocker and pulled the phone onto her lap. It didn’t matter that her tears blurred the numbers on the lighted keypad, for she had long-since memorized Karen’s phone number. The familiar combination of tones sounded, then the phone was ringing. Once, twice, three times – lord, she hoped her best friend was in tonight. "Hi," Karen’s voice was a welcome beacon of cheerfulness penetrating Michelle’s dark mood. "Karen," Michelle tried to steady the waver in her voice, but without much success. "I’m so glad you’re home." At that, the young woman lost her composure all together and began to cry in earnest. "Uh-oh," Karen’s tone turned instantly to warm sympathy. "Had another fight with Paul? Well, tell me all about it, ‘Chelle. What’s he done now?" It took several minutes for the young woman to verbalize the entire story and by the time she’d gotten it all out, she was beginning to feel rather ashamed of herself. "Oh, Karen," she whispered, "I’m afraid I’ve really blown it this time. This one was all my fault, wasn’t it?" "Well," Karen said, clearly hesitant to speak her mind, "I don’t know what to say, ‘Chelle." "It’s okay, you don’t have to say it," Michelle was nervously winding the telephone cord around her index finger as she spoke. "I know I screwed up. I just don’t know what came over me!" Karen chuckled. "Well, I’d say the same thing came over you as comes over all of us now and again. We see something, we want it, and all thoughts of saving for more important items just take flight. It’s called instant gratification, and we all crave it once in awhile." Michelle sighed. "Yeah, I suppose so. But then I just made things so much worse, Karen. Paul started throwing out those orders of his – you know
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how he can get into that Captain Commando mode – and I just got, well, I got really ugly with him. And before I knew it I was dragging that old cane out of the drawer and yelling at him about being a caveman that wanted to beat his wife." She was fighting back tears as she continued, "You should have seen his face. It was horrible! He looked so angry, so hurt. I knew I’d gone too far, but it was too late. He just left. That was three hours ago, and I’ve heard nothing from him since. Oh, Karen – what if he never comes back?" "Aw, come on," Karen replied. "Michelle, I’ve known Paul all our lives, and I have never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Sure, he’s mad right now. Remember that Zook temper I warned you about? But he won’t stay that way forever. Knowing my cousin, I’d say he’s out at his mom and dad’s helping bale hay or plow fields, or whatever they do on farms this time of year. He’s just working out his anger, and he’ll be back when he’s got himself under control. The only real question is what you’re going to do when he does get home." "Do?" Michelle had, until that moment, been too upset to consider that possibility. "I guess I don’t know what I’ll do." "How about taking the table back, for starters," Karen suggested gently. "I’d think getting that twohundred and fifty bucks back would go a long way towards soothing Paul’s ruffled feathers." "Believe me, Karen, I wish I could," Michelle sighed, "But the thing I didn’t tell Paul was that I bought the table at an estate auction that I just happened to be driving past. So, not only is it an impulse buy, but—" "All sales are final?" "Yep, you guessed it. So even now that I know I was wrong and want to take the table back, I can’t."
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"Well, if I were you, I’d definitely tell Paul that right off the bat. Make sure he knows that you’re sorry, that you know you were wrong, but that you simply can’t return the table. At least he’ll understand that you’re not just being stubborn about the whole thing." "I will," Michelle agreed. "But about the things I said – well, I just don’t know how to fix that." Karen was silent for several seconds, and when she did at last speak, Michelle could sense the tentative nature with which her friend broached the subject. "’Chelle, about what you said? Please don’t get offended, but I want to ask you something. Okay?" Michelle’s face was already beginning to flame when she said, "Sure, Karen. You know you can ask me anything." "Well," Karen began quietly, "It’s about the chest, and all the – well – the history behind it. Mom told me a while back that you had asked to borrow the diaries and stuff that she found, along with the family history that Grandma Marie was writing. And since I’ve read that stuff – well, I just wondered how you felt about it, if you’ve been reading it, that is. How do you feel about the Zook men and how they kept their wives in line?" Michelle found herself surprised by her reaction to her friend’s question. She had been reading the diaries and the family history, and to tell the truth, the stories of Paul’s forefathers and their old fashioned way of dealing with their wives had stirred more than her curiosity. Although she had claimed intellectual horror over what would today be considered abuse, there had been another reaction – a curious stirring within her – that had whispered a longing the young woman felt powerless to explain. Surely she must be crazy to feel as she did, to want what she secretly wanted.
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"’Chelle? You still there?" Karen’s voice interrupted Michelle’s silent musings, bringing her back to the present. "Oh, I’m sorry, Karen. I was just thinking." "I’m sorry," Karen said quickly. "That was way too personal. Forgive me, okay. I didn’t mean to be nosey." "No, no – that’s not it at all," Michelle told her friend. "I just – well, I just don’t know what to say. I have been reading the diaries and stuff and, to be honest, I don’t know how I feel about it." The young woman could feel the heat suffusing her face as she plowed on. After all, if she couldn’t talk to her best friend about this, whom could she talk to? Coming to a sudden decision, Michelle continued the conversation. "Look, maybe you’ll think I’m crazy, Karen," she began, "but I’ve just got to talk about this with someone. Okay," Michelle took a deep breath. "Here goes." With that, the young woman let down her guard and started talking. She told her best friend how conflicted she had been about the family history of men using corporal punishment on their wives. She explained how she had felt obligated to show some signs of outrage. After all, she had been taught from an early age to be self-sufficient, self-confident and to never allow any man to push her around. The very idea of a man disciplining his wife in such a way was unthinkable by today’s standards. Surely it must be abuse. But then there had been the other side of her, the physical side that had reacted strongly to the very idea of being spanked by her husband. It had only taken one quick flick of that cane on the back of her denim-clad leg for Michelle to become aroused. And even that night’s incredible session of lovemaking, inspired by less than a dozen love pats and a few whispered comments from her husband,
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had paled in comparison to the ones that had followed in the next few months. Once Paul had realized how powerfully Michelle reacted to a bit of spanking play, he’d been only too happy to incorporate it into some of their more intimate moments together. For a while, things had been good for the couple. But then, over the Christmas holidays, the young woman had decided to ask Paul’s aunt if she could take a look at the diaries and the family history that her friend had told her about. Looking back objectively, Michelle realized that was when she had begun to want more. Although playing at spanking was fun, reading Anna Burlitz-Zook’s diary had left the young bride with a yearning that she was loathe to discuss with her husband. Fantasizing about being taken over his knee for a measure of genuine correction was one thing. But admitting to that longing and actually asking Paul to spank her for real was something entirely different. After all, he might think she was sick or call her crazy. Wors t of all, he might not want to be with a woman who had what she feared must be "unnatural" desires. And so Michelle had decided that she simply could not take that risk, choosing to deny and ignore her longings rather than to discuss them openly. And maybe, she realized now, that was where their current difficulties were coming from. "I know you must think I’m crazy," she told her friend, "and I guess maybe I am. But darn if I know what to do about it. Maybe I’d better make an appointment with a shrink, huh?" Karen had been silent for a long time, restricting her comments to the occasional "Mmm-hmmm" or "Okay", but now she spoke up for the first time. Michelle would have been offended by the humor she heard in her friend’s voice, had she not found her comments so shocking.
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"’Chelle," Karen began, "I really don’t think it’s a shrink that’s called for here. I think what you need is just a good, old fashioned spanking." "You’re kidding!" Michelle could not have been more surprised had a wild bull charged into her living room at that very moment. "Are you telling me – do you mean that you don’t think I’m crazy? Do you really think it’s okay for me to want this?" Karen was laughing now, but Michelle did not take offense. In fact, she felt more sane and normal than she had in months when her friend asked her, "Are you forgetting what family I come from? Honey, you just now read those stories, and you know what affect they had on you. But I grew up on them! Heck, I’ve been daydreaming about being spanked for half my life. I think that’s just part of the Zook genes or something." Michelle felt relief pour through her as her friend admitted to having her own fantasies about spanking. "Good lord, " she finally managed to say. "And here I thought there must be something seriously wrong with me. I even picked up a book about co-dependency, for heaven’s sake! I was seriously beginning to contemplate my need for a therapist or something, Karen!" At that, Karen burst into fresh peals of laughter. "Oh my gosh, can you imagine going into a therapist’s office and saying: Gee, doc. I have this incredible desire to be spanked by my husband. What’s wrong with me and how can I fix it?" Michelle smiled into the phone. "Okay, now that you put it that way, I guess it does seem pretty silly. I’d probably have gotten committed in twoseconds flat." "Maybe," Karen replied thoughtfully. "Or maybe she’d have just said it was perfectly natural, and you ought to give it a go. You know, ‘Chelle, there are a lot of people like us out there." "You think?"
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"I don’t just think, Michelle. I know! And if you don’t believe me, just try looking up erotic spanking on your internet search engine. You’ll be amazed at what you can find out there." "Really?" Michelle was getting that old familiar tingling at the thought. "You’ve done it, Karen?" "Yeah, I’ve done it," Karen’s laugh sounded a bit self-deprecating. "After all, I’m a Zook woman. No ordinary guy is going to do for me. I don’t just want good-looking and intelligent and employed. I want all of the above, plus someone who won’t be afraid to take his hand – or any number of other implements – to my backside, should the need arise." The conversation stretched on for another halfhour, with Karen sharing a few web site addresses and encouraging Michelle to discuss her desires with Paul. "I know my cousin," she said at last. "And if he’s anything like the rest of us, this is something he’s just born with. Talk to him, Michelle. You may be surprised at his reaction." "But how do I ask for a spanking," Michelle queried. "After all, this would be different than just play. I’d be asking Paul to spank me hard, to really punish me both for buying that table and for the way I treated him tonight. I don’t know if I can do that." "Well now, that’s something that I think I can help you with," Karen said. "You’ve still got the diaries and stuff, right?" "Yeah, they’re in the chest. I’m through the first few months of Joseph and Anna’s marriage so far." "Okay then," Karen continued. "I remember reading about an argument that Joseph and Anna had, right around the time of Johannes’s second birthday. He had been a colicky baby, I guess, and Anna was often exhausted and short-tempered during that first year. Joseph had gotten into the habit of cutting her some slack on her attitude, but
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instead of being grateful Anna had grown discontent. She had ended up feeling – well, maybe neglected would be the right word? Anyway, if you skip around in the diary, you should find that story. I bet if you take a look at it, it might give you some ideas about how to face Paul." "Thanks Karen," Michelle said solemnly. "I will take a look at Anna’s diary. Of course, Paul has yet to come home, so this may all be a moot point. But I know I have to make this right between us, if only he’ll let me. The least I can do is give it a try." "Good," Karen said approvingly. "And just know that no matter how things turn out, that cousin of mine really loves you. I’m sure that things will look better in the morning, regardless of what you two decide tonight." "I hope so," Michelle said wistfully. "Anyway, I’d better go. It’s getting late, and I do hope my husband will come home soon. I guess I’d better get to reading." After the girls said good-bye, Michelle went to the chest and pulled out Anna Zook’s diary. Stretching out on the couch, she skimmed through the book until she located the entry that Karen had told her about. Pennsylvania May, 1839 Anna Zook stood in her front yard, hands on her hips. "Joseph Zook, you are the most pig-headed, stubborn, mulish man I’ve ever known in my life! Why, you and I both know that the house would look better with some flower beds out front, and your refusal to buy the seed I requested was about nothing more than your reluctance to have to do any more digging. But since I told you I would take care of all the planting and tending, there’s just no good reason for you to refuse me a few flowers. It’s just sheer obstinance!"
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Joseph stood within a foot of his wife, his features taut with suppressed anger. "I will thank you to keep your voice down," he told her in a low, controlled tone. "I don’t know what’s come over you, Anna, but I’ve had just about enough of this shrewish behavior. If ye continue on this course, ye’ll find yourself—" "Out in the barn?" Anna taunted angrily. "Will you take me out and whip me?" Joseph drew in a deep breath, the moment of pained silence allowing Anna to grasp the extent of the frustration that seethed just beneath his calm exterior. Finally, she was getting somewhere. Maybe this time he would do what he’d threatened so many times. Maybe this time he wouldn’t back down. However, she found herself bitterly disappointed once again. At just that moment, two-year-old Johannes – who had been playing quietly beneath the oak tree out back – began to wail. Joseph raked a hand through his thick, brown hair and let out a frustrated breath. "Go tend to the child," he told his wife curtly. Then, turning on his heel, he once again retreated to the relative solitude of his barn. Bitter tears brimmed in the young woman’s green eyes and burned the back of her throat as she heard the barn door slam shut. That was it, then. Now she knew the truth. Joseph really did not care about her anymore. Dashing the tears away, Anna hurried around to the back yard and picked up her son. One of their many barn cats had evidently scratched him, so she took him inside to clean up the small cut. Then, recognizing that the child was overdue for a nap, she sat down in the rocker and began to sing lullabies to the chubby boy with pale blue eyes and blonde curls. Brushing a kiss to the top of his head, Anna felt the hot tears threaten again. Johannes was her pride and joy, the only part of her life left
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to remind her of what she and Joseph had shared during those early years. How had things gone so wrong, she wondered. Exactly when had Joseph stopped caring for her? Everything that had once been right now seemed so horribly wrong. Her husband was always angry, and Anna found herself growing more short-tempered and shrill with each passing day. What on earth had happened to her – to them? For the life of her, she just could not find a way out of the mess that her life had become. The tension, the arguments, the silence – after two-anda-half years of marriage, Anna Zook felt more alone than she could remember feeling at any other time in her life. Joseph’s refusal to face the problems, the fact that he just walked away from her time and time again, was breaking her heart. In the past he would have had her over his knee or even feeling the sting of the cane for her spiteful words. Anna had no great fondness for the sensation of wellworn shoe leather being applied to her backside and certainly she did not find the fierce, burning sting of the dreaded schoolmaster’s cane anything less than excruciating. She had learned, however, that her husband’s silence caused her a type of pain that was far more difficult to bear. Even after the worst of the spankings she’d received at Joseph’s hand, there had always been his gentleness and his loving reassurances to comfort her. In years gone by, any time the man had been forced to punish his wife, he had never failed to be as generous with his forgiveness as he had been with hand, paddle or cane. Many times he had called her from the corner, opening his arms and inviting her into his lap so that she might find comfort in his embrace. Though her bottom had often been bruised and blistered as a result of a disciplinary session, Anna’s heart had always been better for it. "I must punish you, Anna," Joseph had
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told her a hundred times over, "because I love you, and because it is my duty as your husband to provide you with guidance." Anna dashed away more tears as a small voice inside her asked, "Where is that love now?" Anna’s initial response was to blame her husband. After all, he was the one who continued to walk away from their arguments. But as she rocked her now drowsy child, the young woman began to contemplate her own words. No wonder Joseph preferred his animals to her, she realized quite suddenly. What man wouldn’t choose the relative peace of a barn full of horses and cattle to a wife who harangued him at every turn? Anna was not sure how she had become such an unpleasant nag, but she realized at that moment that she and Joseph were missing the stability and cleansing power that a few simple rules and their corresponding consequences had always provided. As she recalled the years since their son had been born, she began to see how their current pattern of behavior had developed. Johannes had been such a colicky baby, and Anna so tired at the end of each day, that she and Joseph had become rather cautious about doing anything that might awaken their son once he was blissfully asleep. In all fairness, she had to admit that her husband had been quite lenient with her during that difficult time, often chalking up her less than desirable behavior to sheer exhaustion. Anna felt quite sure that having a baby to care for had gotten her out of many a spanking. Although the child had eventually learned to sleep through the night, he had continued to be a rather cranky baby. Little Johannes seemed to cry more often than not, and as a new mother, Anna often felt she could do nothing right. Many’s the night Joseph had come in from the field well after sunset only to find cold meat sandwiches the best
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supper his wife could offer. And though her evergrowing tendency toward a sharp tongue had caused plenty of arguments, Anna’s husband had continued to ignore her caustic remarks. Mrs. Zook had expected things to return to normal after her son’s first birthday, but had found that her worries only increased once Johannes could walk. The child was forever into things, and running after a toddler now claimed so much of Anna’s time and energy, that she found herself becoming more and more irritable with each passing day. She felt isolated by the lack of near-by neighbors or family, and longed for her husband to take a more active role in both their son’s life and hers. Although she couldn’t be sure what was going through Joseph’s mind, the young woman was beginning to believe that the combination of her exhaustion, the late nights with Johannes, and a farmer’s busy schedule had caused the couple to lose sight of one another. And now? Anna shook her head sadly. She wasn’t quite sure why Joseph had allowed her reckless behavior to continue, but she was sure that her sharp tongue and careless comments had not helped the situation any. If her husband was turning away from her, she realized now, it was at least as much her fault as his. Knowing that she was equally to blame gave the young woman a sudden and fierce desire to do everything within her power to rectify her mistakes. Anna knew what she had to do and vowed she would not lose Joseph’s love without a fight. She only hoped it wasn’t too late. Johannes had long since grown heavy in sleep, and Anna was relieved to lay the child down so that she could get started on her plan. She made short work of putting together a stew, and left it simmering on the stove. Then, with a coil of nerves making her feel slightly queasy, she let herself into the bedroom. Her hands were trembling when she
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lifted the lid of her dowry chest, and retrieved the schoolmaster’s cane. Despite the length of time it had lain hidden and unused, there was still a supple flexibility to the thin rod – a flexibility that made a shiver race up the young woman’s spine. It would hurt, of that she could be certain. But at this point, Anna Zook was ready to endure nearly anything in order to set things to right with her husband. Fortifying herself with a deep breath, she gently eased the lid of the chest down. Her every nerve alive with dreadful anticipation, she left the house and began the trek to the barn, cane in hand. A part of Anna could hardly believe what she was about to do. The very idea of presenting this cane to her husband and asking him for the punishment she deserved made her recoil with a measure of selfprotective fear, but still she forced her feet to move. She had to show Joseph how truly sorry she was, and that she was serious about making amends for her foolish behavior. In truth, she could think of no other way than to offer him the means and then submit to the punishment she most feared. At the barn door, she hesitated ever so briefly, her hand on the latch. Then, mustering every bit of courage that she owned, Anna opened the door and stepped over the threshold. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior of the barn; and in that moment, she sent up a prayer that her husband would not reject her for her boldness. She peered around the humble abode of cattle, horses and the like, her nerves taut and straining for any sign – audible or visible – of her husband. Shafts of light worked their way through small gaps in the walls and ceiling, dust motes and hay particles mocking her as they waltzed with the remnants of a late afternoon sun. Then she turned and found him in the small adjoining room.
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Joseph had evidently been chopping wood, but now he stood, axe at his side, and gazed somberly at his wife. Anna swallowed hard when her eyes met his. How could she have hurt him so, this man that she loved with all her heart? How could she have allowed her temper to run wild, her tongue to turn so bitter? Her throat burned from the weight of unshed tears as she took a hesitant step in her husband’s direction. She could only hope that it was not too late for her to regain her place in his heart. As his wife advanced toward the small room where he was working, Joseph once again returned his attention to the task before him. He began to swing the axe rhythmically. In between the ringing blows, he muttered, "What is it now, Anna?" The young woman stopped at the doorway, choosing to ignore the tears that had begun to slip down her cheeks. "Joseph, I was hoping that we might talk." "Talk about what?" he asked, his tone guarded. "Haven’t you rid yourself of your anger yet?" Anna could not have been more hurt had her husband reached out and struck her. It took a moment for her to reign in the impulse to lash out in retaliation, a moment in which she stood and studied the dusty barn floor. "I deserve that, Mr. Zook," she admitted quietly, "and so much more. That’s why I’ve come to speak with you. Please, Joseph," she whispered, the words a tearful plea. "I’ve come to apologize to you, and to – to give you this. I know I deserve to be punished, for today and so many other days as well. Please deal with me as you would have two years ago. Please give me another chance to be the woman you once loved." For the first time that day, Joseph really looked at his wife. She stood in the doorway, her expression earnest, her hand trembling as she held out the old schoolmaster’s cane. Silent tears were
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tracing paths down her cheeks, and the young man realized in that moment what it had cost her to come to him like this. He saw, for the first time in a long time, the eighteen-year-old bride he had brought home from Lancaster. She had been so gentle, so soft and womanly. It was Anna who had left her home and family, bringing light and joy into his once-lonely existence. It was Anna who had turned his house into a home, giving generously of her love and laughter during both good times and bad. And yet today, his sweet, loving Anna stood before him – offering him the one implement he knew she feared above all others and asking for chastisement. Joseph walked to the far corner of the room and rested the axe against the wall. When he made his way to the doorway where she stood, Anna had to remind herself to breathe. Would he take her up on her offer, and return to her all the scorn and fury she had showed him earlier in the day? Or worse yet, would he walk away as he had done earlier? The young woman knew a moment of agony when Joseph looked at her, his gaze intent. Her mouth went dry when he took the cane from her hand, and propped it against the wall. Then he was pulling her against him in a fierce hug and her tears began to flow in earnest. Joseph led Anna to a nearby bale of hay, sitting down to cradle her in his arms. For long minutes they sat together, the only sounds those of the animals stirring and Anna weeping brokenheartedly. Her murmured apologies and explanations were made to his shirtfront as Joseph held his wife in a tight embrace, hushing her cries with soothing words and reassurances of his love. It was not until she had regained a measure of composure that Joseph began to speak. "Anna," he said as he gently cupped her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his, "I realize now that
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I’ve been lax in my duties as your husband. I can see the right of what you’ve said about the bad habits we both fell into when Johannes was born. I allowed the nature of our relationship to change – albeit slowly – and by the time I realized the severity of our problems, I could no longer see how to fix it. I felt, after so much time had gone by, that I no longer had much of a right to discipline you." "But, sir—" Anna began. Joseph cut off her words by laying his finger gently against her lips. "Shhh," he said. "Please let me finish, Mrs. Zook." Anna nodded silently, and Joseph went on. "Anna, you’ve told me that you felt my lack of guidance denoted a lack of interest in you or in our life together, and I must tell you now that I never intended to give you such an impression. I suppose, in all honesty, I felt at a loss as to how to get a handle on the situation, and in that, I was wrong. I can see now that things would have been far better had I taken you in hand immediately, so that we could have avoided these last difficult months. Can you forgive me, Mrs. Zook, for not performing my duties as your husband?" Anna’s eyes registered her surprise. In the last few hours, as she had struggled to come to the decision that had led her here with the cane in hand, she had never once imagined her husband apologizing to her. She would have protested that he owed her no such apology, but there was a sincerity in Joseph’s eyes that reminded her of his true nature as a fair and loving husband. Rather than argue the point, she said simply, "Oh course I forgive you, Mr. Zook." "Good," Joseph went on, his tone still gentle but taking on a more authoritative air. "Now then, Anna, you have shown a great deal of wisdom in bringing the cane to me and requesting your punishment. I had begun to fear that you no longer
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loved or respected me, but I can see now that I was wrong. Before the chastisement commences, however, I feel it only fair to warn you that this will not be a light spanking. If I cane you as we both know I should, it will be a hard punishment. You may find it difficult to bear, but I will expect you to do your best to submit yourself to my authority and offer no resistance. Do you think you can do that, Anna?" Anna swallowed hard, willing the lump in her throat to go away. She had known all along that she deserved a sound whipping, but hearing her husband put it so bluntly made the dread twist in her stomach all the more. Still, she had come this far. She might as well finish what she had started. "Oh, Joseph," she whispered, "you know how much I fear the cane, but I promise I will do my best to submit to you, no matter how ye see fit to punish me. I cannot promise perfection, but I vow I will try my hardest. I know I have disobeyed and sassed you more than you could ever punish me for in just one session. But even if you see fit to cane me every day for the next month, I will try to accept your guidance graciously." Joseph smiled a bit then, leaning in to place a kiss to his wife’s brow. "Anna, I’ve no intention of going back over past hurts at this point. I can’t see that as being fair, since the neglect of my duties is as much to blame as anything you’ve done. So," he finished, rising from the hay bale and holding his hand out to his wife, "shall we have this unpleasantness over and done with?" Anna drew in a deep breath as she placed her hand willingly in Joseph’s and allowed him to draw her to her feet. "Yes, sir." Not many more words were spoken then, as Joseph led his wife into the small room where he had been chopping firewood. He left her standing just inside the door, and strode to the corner, where
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an old barrel stood. Grasping the leather handles on either side of the barrel, he maneuvered it far enough away from the wall that Anna could lean over it and he would still have plenty of room to swing the cane. He then turned back to his wife, intending to instruct her to remove her bloomers, only to find her carefully folding the white cotton underthings. "Thank you, my love, for showing me such obedience," he said kindly. "And now I would have you bring me the cane, please." Anna did not hesitate as she retrieved the cane and took the few steps to the place Joseph had prepared. Though her hands shook with fear and dread, she handed him the supple rod and then wordlessly took her place over the barrel. "You’ll notice some leather handles on the sides of this barrel, Anna," her husband said from somewhere above and behind her. "I think it would be best if you take hold of or slip your wrists through those straps, in order to help you maintain your position. I will have to give you a sound whipping, and I don’t want to risk hurting you should you move too suddenly." The young woman shuddered, but she obediently slipped her wrists through the leather loops Joseph had indicated. "Now then, Mrs. Zook," Joseph went on grimly, "We both know that your sharp tongue got the better of you today. Since this has become a habit of late, I am going to chastise you soundly in the hopes that we will never need to repeat the process. But I want you to understand first that I am not doing this out of anger or any desire to cause you pain, but because I love you, Anna, and we both know that you need this. Do you understand that, my love?" Anna nodded, her "Yes, sir," a whisper as tears began to fill her eyes once again. Her face flamed
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as Joseph’s booted toe nudged apart the legs that she had clamped tightly together. "All right, then, Mrs. Zook. Since you have had a dozen strokes of this cane in the past, I am going to give you eighteen now. I hope that will be sufficient to express my displeasure with your behavior and serve as a reminder of how a proper wife addresses her husband. Now please be as still as you can, so as to avoid any unnecessary injury." Anna had hardly come to terms with the idea that she would feel eighteen hard strokes of the horrid cane when she heard it whistle through the air and make excruciatingly firm contact with her bare skin. She gasped as the pain seared across her unprotected flesh in a way she’d never felt before. When Joseph had said this would be a difficult punishment, he had evidently meant it. Anna let out a ragged breath and twisted her hands in the leather loops, knowing if she did not, she might not be able to stop herself from leaping up. Thwipp! The second line of pure fire burned across her bum, the force of the blow driving the young woman up onto her toes. All thoughts she had of remaining silent took flight as the pain burned hot, then spread outward from the point of contact. "Ahh-arghh," she cried out, just before a third welt was raised on her upturned bottom. "I’m ssorry," she moaned as the fire penetrated deep into her body. "So, so sorry!" "I know you are," Joseph’s voice was quiet as his palm rested on her lower back for a reassuring moment. "And I’m sorry, too, Mrs. Zook. It pains me to be so harsh with you." The next six strokes of the cane were equally hard and placed with careful precision and timing. Anna was no longer striving to maintain control, but only to survive the onslaught as welt after welt was raised on her once smooth bottom cheeks. This was
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no ordinary caning, and she knew that she would not be able to walk easily – let alone sit – once her husband had finished with her. Still, she willed herself to be still and accept the chastisement. It was before the tenth stroke that Joseph instructed his wife to bring her legs together. "I do not wish to break your skin," he told her gently, "so I will finish the caning on the backs of your thighs. That way, none of the welts will be crossed over a second time." A sobbing Anna closed her legs and waited, every muscle in her body rigid with tension. She had always feared the moment when her husband would concentrate a punishment on the backs of her legs, and now was certainly no exception. Thwick! The cane whistled through the air, and the sharp pain caused the young woman to kick out frantically, much to her chagrin. "Oh, p-please," she gasped as Joseph stepped back, allowing the fire to work it’s way deep into her skin. "Joseph, I beg of you, not there. P-please!" Even through her own cries, Anna could hear the ragged note in her husband’s voice when he said, "I’m sorry, love, but I’m afraid I must." Even so, Joseph moved more to her side, and placed the side of one booted footed against the back of his wife’s heels with just enough force to prevent her from kicking out. "But if you will try hard to be still, I will finish the rest quickly. Can you do that for me, Anna?" "I’ll try." From that moment on, Joseph was true to his promise. Although the pain was sharp and Anna could not help but shriek each time the cane burned into her flesh, the rest of her chastisement was applied quickly. She did not even manage to count the remainder of the blows, so occupied was she by the raging fire that seemed to be burning through every inch of her body. It was not until she had
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flinched away from her husband’s comforting caress to her shoulders that Anna realized the caning was over. The next few minutes were a blur, as Joseph gently untwisted the leather straps that Anna had used to aid her in maintaining her position. Then she felt herself swept up into strong arms and carried to the house, where he lovingly undressed her and applied cool cloths to her bruised and welted flesh. It was not until he knelt down beside her and pressed his lips to her brow that Anna realized Joseph’s face was wet with his own tears. She offered him a tremulous smile as she touched his face, her eyes conveying the love she felt for her husband. "Thank you," she murmured sleepily, sheer exhaustion taking over, "for caring for me, Joseph. But I should get up now and get supper on the table." "You’ll do no such thing," Joseph replied as he rubbed his wife’s back. "I’ll take care of everything, my dear. You just sleep now. I imagine you’ll be sore for a long while, but a good night’s sleep should help to ease the pain a bit. Anna nodded her thanks, her eyes already beginning to close when Joseph kissed her forehead. "I love you, Anna Zook," were the last words she heard as she drifted off to sleep. ______________ Michelle came awake slowly, a growing awareness of her husband’s presence filling her senses. It took a few moments for her to grasp that she had fallen asleep on the couch, but she sat up rather quickly the moment she realized that Paul was seated on the floor beside her – and he was reading the diary. Oh, lord! What must he think of her? She reached out quickly, hoping to snatch away the book that was open to the page she had
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last read. But she wasn’t quite fast enough, and the young woman felt her husband take a firm grasp on her wrist. "Ah, ah, ah," he said as he pulled her down for a gentle kiss. Paul’s brown eyes were unreadable as he told his wife quietly, "I think we need to talk."
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Chapter Four Paul Zook stood in his father’s barn, leaning on a pitchfork. He’d come here to get away from his wife and the argument they’d been having. But after an hour of mucking out the stables, he was still stewing over Michelle’s most recent purchase. A writing desk, for heaven’s sake! Since when did they need a writing desk? He shook his head grimly. She’d spent two hundred and fifty dollars on some ancient piece of furniture that looked more like it belonged in a one-room schoolhouse than their foyer. For crying out loud, he wasn’t working overtime to buy silly, impractical things like that. He wanted a house, with a big yard where they could put up a swing set for the kids they would one day have. He’d thought Michelle wanted the same things. But at this rate, they’d be living in that stinking apartment for the rest of their lives. "Paul?" His father’s voice intruded into his dark thoughts. "Your mom said you were out here. What’s up?" "Oh, hi Dad," Paul said as he went back to pitching clean hay into the horses stalls. "I just needed to stretch a little, so I thought I’d run out here and do you a favor." "Hmmm." Jay Zook had always been a man of few words, but he knew his only son well. "Well, that’s fine by me. I’m sure you can tell I haven’t gotten around to mucking out lately. But didn’t you just get home from a business trip? I’m guessing you’ve got a wife at home who’s been missing you."
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Paul continued to throw hay. If anything, he only picked up the pace as he muttered, "I’ve already been home." "Hmph!" Jay threw down a sack of grain and went to the storeroom for a second one. "You can’t have been home for long. Where’s Michelle? She have to work late tonight?" "No. She’s home." "I see," Jay said as he ripped open the grain and carried a scoop full to the new mare in the first stall. "So, after just nine months of marriage, you’d rather be here with my horses than at home with your pretty little bride? Now that’s a fine how-doyou-do." Paul knew his father was just needling, but he felt on the defensive anyway. "Well, if my wife would stop spending money like it could be picked off the trees, maybe I wouldn’t mind being with her right now." His father’s answering laugh only fueled his anger. "What’s so funny, Dad?" "Oh, just the thought of Michelle -- or any woman, for that matter -- voluntarily curbing her spending habits." "Yeah, right," Paul muttered, choosing to take his anger out on the mound of fresh hay at his feet. "Pretty stupid thing to expect, huh?" Jay continued to work at putting feed out as he talked. "Well, it’s been my experience that women don’t come to that decision easily. They need to be encouraged, if you know what I mean. Least ways, your Mama sure did! And if Michelle’s anything like her, you’re going to have to teach that lesson more than once. I know I had to." Paul brought the pitchfork back to the floor and leaned on it once again. His eyes were keen on his father’s back. He’d never known his Dad to spare the rod when he or one of his sisters had done something wrong. But his mother? He could hardly imagine his father ever taking her over his knee.
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Then again, he could hardly imagine his mother doing something so stupid as spending $250 on a useless piece of furniture. "What do you mean, you had to teach Mom a lesson?" He felt the heat creep up his face and was grateful that his father never stopped working to look at him. "Hmmm?" Jay seemed distracted, as if he’d only half heard the question, but he managed to answer just the same. "I mean just that, son. Back when we were just married, your Mama didn’t have much experience with budgeting a household. And she sure as hell didn’t have much use for the word no. So, I sat her down and did a bit of schoolin’ about what I expected from her and just what we could and could not afford. And when I realized the headlearnin’ hadn’t sunk in, I went at it from the other end." "You spanked her?" Paul was incredulous. "Well, of course I did," Jay said as he ripped open a second sack of grain. "What else was I to do? If I’d have let her go on the way she was, she’d have run us into the ground." Paul took a deep breath and schooled his features to be as neutral as his father’s. "But what about the laws, Dad? Couldn’t that have been considered abuse?" The question earned him a sharp look from his father. "Son, you were on the receiving end of my belt plenty of times growing up. Did you consider it abuse?" "No, of course not," Paul replied sheepishly. "It hurt like hell, but I knew why you did it. And being a kid, I expected it. But spanking your wife? Isn’t that different?" With a sigh, Jay dropped his scoop into the bag of grain and took a seat on a hay bale. "Come over here, Paul, and sit down."
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Paul rested his pitchfork against the last horse stall and took a seat near his father. His embarrassment had faded even as his curiosity grew. He and Michelle had been fighting so much lately that he was willing to try just about anything to put them back on the right track. "Look, son," Jay began. "There are laws that protect women from abusive men. They’re good laws, necessary laws. Hell, I’ve walked both your sisters down the aisle, given both of them away to the men they married. I’m proud to live in a country where I know the law protects them, supports their right to be safe. And of course, if I thought either one of those boys was guilty of beating on one of my girls, the law would be the least of his worries." Paul didn’t miss the intensity in his father’s eyes when he continued, "Son, only a coward hits a woman in anger." Paul nodded in agreement. "I know Dad. And I’d never want to hurt Michelle. I love her too much for that. But," he ran his hands through thick, dark hair that was in need of a cut, "I have to admit she makes me pretty mad sometimes. That’s why I had to get out of there this evening." Jay nodded solemnly, though Paul could have sworn he noticed a hint of amusement in his father’s eyes. "So, what’d she do? Or maybe I should say, what did she buy?" "Some damn stupid little writing desk, Dad. It’s hardly bigger than an old school desk, and I don’t care what century it’s from, it sure as hell wasn’t worth $250!" Jay snorted. "Your Mama said Michelle loved the antique stores that day the gals all went shopping. Back around Christmas time, wasn’t it? Anyway, I take it she broke down and made a purchase while you were away?" "Yeah, sure did." Paul blew out a frustrated breath. "You know, Dad, it’s not so much the money
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as the fact that we agreed to save towards a house. We also agreed that neither one of us would make big purchases like that -- anything over $75 -without the other’s consent. Especially not when it was something that we didn’t need. So, I go away for a few days and the moment I walk in the door, I find this stupid thing in the foyer, and my wife just grinning ear to ear. She was actually proud of herself for finding such a bargain. Can you imagine?" "Yeah, unfortunately I can. You know, son, you’re not the only one who’s been there." Paul looked over at his Dad. There was a thoughtful look in the older man’s eyes, and he was dying to be let in on the secret Jay seemed to be mulling over. "I still find it hard to believe you and mom ever had this kind of problem. She’s always seems so -- so sensible." At that, Jay Zook laughed out loud. "Yeah, now she’s sensible. But you should have known her forty years ago." Paul watched his father slip back to a time when he’d been a newlywed. "I guess we’d been married a little more than a year when things came to a head for us." ______________ Jay Zook coasted into his driveway, his beat-up Chevy truck billowing smoke and steam. "Dang truck," he muttered as he aimed a kick at the right front tire. "So much for making it through the holidays with this old thing. Claudia! Claudia," he called out as the front door slammed behind him. "Where are you honey? I need to find --" Rounding a corner, Jay walked into the kitchen. His wife was standing over a box of dishes, carefully wiping down china with a damp cloth. "Oh, there you are," he said, offering his pretty wife a smile despite his current foul mood. "Honey, where’s the book for the saving’s account. I need to check the balance. I’m
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afraid that old truck is going to require some repairs despite the fact that I’ve been babying it along." Claudia looked momentarily flustered, but Jay simply chalked it up to her own distress over the thought of repairs. "Umm -- I’m not sure, honey. I’ll have to take a look for it." "Well, I’ll need to see it pretty quick. I’d like to get hold of John down at Peterson’s garage yet this afternoon. I’m going to have to get the truck up to him and I’ll need to know how much I can authorize in repairs. I’m hoping we can cover it out of the savings, so I don’t have to ask him for credit again. You know how I hate being beholdin’ to anyone. Anyway, wasn’t there a little over $100 in there last month?" "Uh -- I don’t know," Claudia murmured. Jay didn’t miss the way his wife’s hands flitted about or the way she tried to maneuver him out of the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed and she was chewing steadily on her lower lip. "Hold up just a second," he said, suddenly suspicious. "You haven’t been dipping into the savings again, have you? Claudia?" Claudia cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, and just that quick, Jay knew. "Where did the china come from? And why haven’t I seen it before?" Claudia froze in her tracks and turned a guiltridden face up to that of her husband’s. "It was just a little bit of the money, Jay. Murphy’s was having a great sale and --" "How much?" "Thirty-five dollars. And it was worth it, honey! That’s twelve place settings and a serving platter and what with us having the family Thanksgiving this year -- well, we needed it." "And just why," Jay said, trying hard to keep a reign on his temper, "do we need new dishes for Thanksgiving. We’ve got a whole cupboard full of dishes!"
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"But those are every day dishes," Claudia sighed. "This china is for special occasions." "And why do I get the feeling that you didn’t have enough money left from the household budget to buy this latest necessity?" Jay was feeling less and less charitable by the moment, and he knew his feelings showed in his tone of voice. "Well, it’s not like I knew ahead of time that Murphy’s was going to have that sale," Claudia said with a pout. "I was going to put the money back in the savings next month." Jay blew out a long breath, aggravated well beyond the point of breaking. He’d heard the same excuse a half dozen times in the year he and Claudia had been married and frankly, it was wearing thin. He glanced at his wife’s face, at the way her lips were pursed into an attention-getting frown. "She thinks," he said to himself, "that she can wrap me around her little finger. But not this time. Enough is enough." To his wife he said simply, "Pack it up, Claudia. The china goes back." "What?" the young woman sputtered. "You heard me, young lady. The truck repairs have to be made. The china will just have to go back." Claudia stood there, the shock she was feeling registering in her eyes. Then, in what Jay could see was a very carefully calculated move, she told him quietly, "No." "No?" Jay felt his temper rising. "And just what makes you think you have any choice in the matter?" Claudia drew herself up to her full height of 5’4". "There’s still $50 in the savings, Paul. And what that doesn’t cover, we can pay John Peterson out of your next check." With only the slightest amount of hesitation, she turned and went back to the task of wiping down the new dishes.
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"Fifty dollars!" That was even less than Jay had anticipated, and the thought put him over the edge. "There should be more than that, even taking into account the thirty-five you spent on those dishes. What on earth have you been doing with that money, woman?" Claudia turned back to her husband, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Don’t yell at me, Paul. There are things we need for the house. It’s not fair for you to hold on so tightly to the purse strings." "If we are in need," Paul hissed, "then why don’t I know about it? You know you can come to me for anything." Now she was caught, well and truly caught. "I -I would have," Claudia stammered, "but I didn’t want to bother you." Tears caught on her lashes, spilled down her cheeks. "I know how hard you work and --" Jay had seen his wife pull this trick enough times to know that when a whining tone couldn’t persuade him to see things her way she’d cry until, feeling like a louse, he gave in. It was not going to happen this time. "I’ve had enough, Claudia, so you might just as well turn off the waterworks. I’ve let you get away with this for far too long already," Squaring his shoulders, he continued, "I’m going out to the barn to do chores and when I get back I expect to see the china packed up and ready to go. I will also want," he said as he tipped his wife’s face up, giving her no choice but to meet his gaze, "a complete accounting of just what has happened to our savings since last month. Understand? "You can’t tell me what to do." Claudia’s look was mutinous, and Jay felt certain this was far from the last word on the subject. He was, however, determined, to put a stop to his wife’s careless spending.
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"That’s where you’re wrong," he said grimly. "When you married me, you promised to love, honor and obey. Remember?" "I’m not a child," she started to interrupt, but Jay placed a finger to his wife’s lips. "No, you’re not, honey. But you are acting like one. And if you continue to do so, you are going to find the results are very much like what you could have expected when you were living under your father’s roof." Her face grew pale, then bright red spots flamed on both cheeks. "You wouldn’t," she whispered. "Oh wouldn’t I?" With that, Jay turned and walked out the back door. ______________ Paul sat on his bale of hay, picking apart the long straws and trying to imagine his mother as the defiant young woman from his father’s story. "So, what did she do, Dad?" "Well, she sure as heck didn’t pack up that china. At least not right at first. That’s where I had to do some convincing." ______________ An hour after he had slammed out the back door, Jay made his way back up to the house. The fact that he was completely exhausted made giving in to his wife a pretty big temptation. But still, he reasoned, she would learn nothing that way. And wasn’t it about time her reckless misuse of their savings was curbed? With grim determination, he strode to the house. One way or the other, Claudia Zook was going to learn to mind her husband. The first thing he noticed as the back door swung shut behind him was the box of dishes, still sitting open on the kitchen table. A quick look inside told him that she’d not bothered to return so much as one plate to the carton. A muscle in the man’s
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jaw ticked as he studied the evidence of his wife’s defiance. He’d known she was headstrong when he’d married her. Heck, her own father had warned him that she was about as stubborn as a mule. But he really had hoped that, given the time, she’d see reason on this issue and not force his hand. Shaking his head, he went in search of his wife. The time for talk was long over. The time for action was at hand. He found her curled up on their bed, sobbing into a pillow. The sight of her there, when she turned her tear-stained face up to his, was nearly his undoing. With a concentrated effort, Jay steeled himself to be firm. "I believe I told you to pack up those dishes." He spoke quietly. There was no need to raise his voice. His meaning was clear enough. "Would you care to explain why you’ve not done it?" "I just -- Oh, Jay, how can you be so cruel?" Claudia choked out, more tears running down her pretty face. "I can’t possibly take those dishes back. It would be so humiliating. Do you want everyone in the county to know we can’t afford to serve our guests on real china?" Jay sat down on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. He was silent for long moments as he mulled over his wife’s words. It would be so easy to give in to her, especially now that she’d pricked his own male pride. It took every bit of strength he had to ignore that stab and go on with the course he’d decided upon. "Honey, if you had been following the budget we agreed upon, there would be no embarrassment. This was your doing, and I’m not going to feel guilty about it. Now, I’m going to tell you one more time." His tone of voice made the ultimatum clear. "Go out there and pack up those dishes, Claudia. They are going back." Her "No," was muffled by the pillow, but still distinguishable.
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"All right then," Jay said as he began to roll up the sleeves of his red plaid shirt. "You leave me no choice. Over my knee, young lady." That got her attention all right. Shoving strands of blonde hair away from her face, Claudia scrambled up and scooted toward the headboard, putting as much distance as she could between herself and her husband. "No!" Anger colored her cheeks red. "You can’t spank me, Jay Zook! I’m not a child, you know. I’m a grown woman, and I’ll not climb over your knee like some naughty little girl. And if you try to make me," she said emphatically, "I’ll leave. I’ll call my mother and have her come get me and I’ll just go back home." "Oh you will, will you?" For the first time all afternoon, Jay was beginning to see a smidgen of humor in the situation. He knew his father -in-law well enough to know that he abided by the motto, Spare the rod and spoil the child. "And just what makes you think that going home is going to get you off the hook? Don’t you think your father is going to want to know what happened? Hmmm?" He shook his head and allowed himself a small smile. "What is your Pa going to say when he hears of this behavior, Claudia? Do you suppose he’d let your ma get away with such defiance?" Claudia swallowed hard against a rising tide of panic. "Well now, why don’t you just march right on out to the phone and call your folks. Have ‘em come and pick you up, honey. You tell your father how terrible I was to make you abide by a budget, how unfair I’m being to make you return something you bought without my permission with money out of our savings. And then we’ll see what he does." Jay cast a meaningful glance over his shoulder. "What do you suppose his reaction will be? ‘Cause I’m guessing he’ll take his belt to you himself before driving you right back out here to me. In fact," he
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went on with a calm, self-assured tone, "I think I might just call him myself -- see what kind of advice he has for me concerning this little situation." He started to rise, and was stayed by his wife’s hand on his arm. "No, please don’t." Her tears were genuine this time. "Please don’t humiliate me that way, Jay. I’ll - I’ll do as you say. I’ll pack up the dishes and take them back, first thing in the morning. Only please don’t spank me. Please!" Jay turned and studied his wife, his thoughts tumbling about in his mind. The fact that she was crying made him feel like an ogre as it was; yet they’d had similar disagreements before. He suspected it was more the thought of having her parents -- especially her father -- apprised of her behavior that had brought about this change of heart, and that was a threat he knew he could not rely on. She was his wife now and she needed to know that she was obliged to treat him with the same respect she had always shown her Dad. No, he couldn’t let her worm her way out of this spanking. The time had come for his authority to be established, once and for all. "Honey," he said with more calm than he felt, "You’ve been out and out defiant today. Not only did you sneak money out of the savings -- which is the same as stealing -- but you also showed me a complete lack of respect by refusing to do what I’d instructed." His eyes were keen on hers as he moved, closing the gap between them. "Much as I hate to say it, I don’t believe I can let you off the hook this time. I want you to come and get over my lap, Claudia. Your disobedience has earned you a spanking. The only question now is how hard you want it to be." Watching her green eyes dart back and forth, Jay thought for a moment that she might just bolt. But then, with a shudder, his wife came to a
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decision. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she obediently moved to lay, face down over her husband’s thighs. "I’m sorry," she whispered just before her husband’s palm made sharp contact with her skirted behind. ______________ Jay looked up at his son, the memories fading as he faced the boy he had had raised. No, not a boy - but a man who was facing the same decision today as he’d faced all those years ago. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "Well, I expect there are some things that ought to remain just between your Mama and me. But I will tell you those dishes went back to the store the next day." Paul nodded thoughtfully as he cast a glance outside through one of the high barn windows. It had long since grown dark and Michelle was surely worried about him by now. "Thanks Dad, for the talk," he said as he stood and stretched, "but I’d best head home now. I think Michelle and I have a lot to talk about." Jay stood too, and clapped his son on the shoulder. "You do that, son. You do that." ______________ The drive home wasn’t long -- less than twenty minutes -- but Paul took that time to mull through what his father had told him. He’d grown up in a household where a spanking was simply an expected consequence for bad behavior, so even the idea of spanking his wife did not seem terribly far-fetched. However, Michelle seemed horrified by the Zook family history and that presented a very real concern. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to see him as some sort of madman who was going to abuse her. No, he loved her far too much
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to force this on her if she wasn’t willing to give it a go. Of course, Michelle had not had any problems with erotic spanking. In fact, she’d been quite receptive to the idea -- a fact evidenced by the incredible lovemaking that had followed each and every time they’d "played" that type of game. Still, discipline was no game. Paul knew that, if he were to spank his wife for real, it would have to be different. It would have to mean something. If it only culminated in great sex, would the lesson have been learned? No, he didn’t think so. By the time he pulled into their parking lot, the young husband had come up with a plan to make this spanking different from the erotic ones they’d shared before. Now the hard part -- convincing Michelle this was the best thing for their marriage. He found her curled up on the couch, fast asleep. The lamp beside her was still on, the shadows it cast accentuating the pallor of her cheeks and the deep red that rimmed her eyes. Damn, had he been that much of a monster that she’d lain here crying half the night? He was just about to pick her up, to bear her to the bedroom where he would apologize and beg her forgiveness before tucking her into bed, when he spied a wellworn leather book on the floor beside the couch. Obviously she’d been reading and it had slipped from her fingers when she’d relaxed in sleep. Picking up the book, Paul scanned the contents quickly. He was surprised to find it was not some old edition of a classic, but rather a diary of sorts. His momentary stab of guilt eased when he realized that the pages were far too yellowed and ancient looking for this to be his wife’s own journal. The script was small and cramped, as if the author had intended to squeeze every last bit of writing space out of the small book. Easing himself down onto the
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floor before the couch, Paul was able to make out the date at the top of one wrinkled page. Nineteen April, 1836 My sleep was restless last night, for the fierce weals left by Joseph’s cane plagued me sore during my sleep. Still, I would not complain, for my husband had every right to punish me as he did. And though my body aches, my heart is lighter now than it has been in many a long month. I thank God for gifting me with such a fine man and vow I will never again make such discipline necessary. Paul had wondered more than once how Michelle could feel so strongly about his family history, given the fact that he’d not told her much beyond the story of the dowry chest itself. Now, as he leafed through Anna Zook’s diary, he began to suspect there was more to their current situation than met the eye. Perhaps she was more fascinated with the idea of spanking than she had wanted to admit. What famous writer was it that had said, "Methinks thou doth protest too much"? He was musing over that question, and the implications when he felt her begin to stir. "Ah, sleeping beauty awakes," he murmured. A moment later her slim hand darted around him in a desperate attempt to grab the evidence of her silent fascination. Grasping his wife’s wrist, Paul turned to smile at the woman he had married. "Ah, ah, ah," he said as he pulled her down for a gentle kiss. "I think we need to talk." His comment hung in the air between them for a moment before he noticed the tears that were welling up in her green eyes. "Oh, Paul," she whispered, "I’m so sorry -- for buying the desk and for the things I said. Please forgive me." Her remorse stunned him, for Paul had never known his wife to capitulate so easily. When he’d left, she’d been angry and defiant. Now she wept openly, turning her face into his chest the moment
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he had maneuvered himself up onto the couch beside her. He held her tight against his side and stroked her hair, not exactly sure where to go from here. Clearly Michelle regretted her action and the ensuing fight as much as he did. They would talk, he decided, but there would be no need for a spanking now that she’d realized she was wrong. "Shhh, it’s okay ‘Chelle," he soothed as he pushed auburn curls away from her face. "Everything will be all right. I’ll go with you to take the desk back tomorrow and --" Incredibly, that comment brought on fresh sobs and he pulled away enough so that he could get a good look at her face. Was she crying because she did not want to return the desk? "You said you were sorry you bought it, honey. Surely you realize that it should go back. We really have no use for it." "I know." His finger beneath her chin forced her eyes up to his and he noticed that tears continued to slip down her cheeks. "It’s not that I don’t want to take it back. But I — "Shamefaced, she looked away. "I can’t." "Can’t, Michelle?" He forced her to meet his gaze again and studied her expression intently. "Or won’t?" "I can’t return it, Paul, because I bought it at an estate auction. I’m sorry," she said, bringing a nervous hand up to wipe her eyes. "I would take it back if I could. Honest." Paul sighed. "Honey, we agreed that we weren’t going to make big purchases like that without consulting one another. We agreed to save for a down payment on a house. You’ve just set us back two hundred and fifty dollars - all for some silly antique that we didn’t need. Lord, Michelle! What am I going to do with you?" He felt her pull away, watched as she sat up, studying her hands in her lap. That she was struggling to come to some sort of decision was
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apparent, even if just what that decision would be was not. She reached down to retrieve something from under the couch, and he sucked in a surprised breath. He watched, transfixed as she placed the decades-old cane in his hands. "Use it on me," she said, though a visible shudder passed over her with the voicing of that plea. "I have been so wrong, Paul — about this and so many other things as well. You have every right to be angry with me. I know I deserve this, so please, just do it. I just want it over with." Paul looked into his wife’s eyes, no longer filled with tears, but now with the light of a decision made. During the time they’d been married, he’d been tempted more than once to take her over his knee for a dose of real old-fashioned discipline. Now she was handing him what had to be the most fearful implement ever used to spank wayward children and wives, and asking him to use it on her. There was no way he could miss the apprehension in her eyes. That she would request such a punishment for her first experience — despite the fear he knew she must be feeling — left him awed. Solemnly, he propped the cane against the wall and pulled his wife onto his lap. "Honey, I have done a lot of thinking about this tonight, and I do think that a spanking — a real one — is called for. But," he hurried to finish, having noticed the panicked glance she cast in the direction of the flexible rattan rod. "I couldn’t possibly use that cane on you. First of all, it’s much too old; and secondly, I think a caning would be far too severe for your first experience." Michelle expelled a shaky breath even as she turned her face up to his, her expression earnest. "It won’t be the first time, Paul. My mom spanked me a few times." "Well, honey," Paul chuckled, "there’s more than one definition of spanking. From everything you’ve
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told me about your mom, it sounds to me like her version was a few swats to the seat of your jeans. Am I right?" "Mmmm-hmmm." He nodded. "That’s what I thought. But ‘Chelle, there’s a pretty big difference between my definition of a spanking and hers. Honey, when I spank you, it won’t be a few swats, and it won’t be over your clothing. I need you to understand that. Before we go through with this, I want to make sure you are aware of what’s going to happen and that you agree to it. "I have no intention of beating or abusing you and I won’t force you to accept this. But if you really believe you deserve it and are willing to submit, you have to realize up front that it’s going to hurt — a lot. This isn’t going to be foreplay, honey. This will be a real bare-bottomed spanking, just like my folks used to dish out whenever one of my sisters or I got into trouble. You will go over my knee for a good, long dose of my hand followed by at least a dozen strokes with whatever implement I choose. Afterwards, I’ll expect you to stand in the corner, showing me your bottom while you think about why you’ve been punished and how you can keep from winding up back in the same predicament again. Understand?" Michelle swallowed hard, wiping damp palms on her jeans. "I — I think so, sir." She didn’t seem to notice that she’d used the term of respect. Somehow it just seemed to fit the moment. "I know what I did was wrong, Paul, and I don’t want things to continue as they have been lately. I know it will hurt, and I have to admit I am a little scared. " She licked dry lips and forced herself to continue. "But I know I deserve this and I’ll try to accept whatever punishment you feel is fair, honey. I’m willing to have you spank me."
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"All right, then," Paul said, then took a quick look at the clock. "But it’s after midnight already. Maybe we should put this off ‘til morning? You look pretty worn out." "Oh no," Michelle exclaimed. "I know it’s late, but I’ll never be able to sleep if I have this to think about all night. Please, couldn’t we just do it now and have it over with?" Her look was enough to weaken any man’s resolve and Paul, no stranger to the fearful anticipation his wife had to be feeling at the moment, decided to honor her request. Sleep could wait. "All right, Michelle. I want you to go ahead and get ready for bed. Do you have a nightshirt you can put on?" She nodded solemnly. "Okay. Go get changed. Put the nightshirt on, but no panties. I don’t think," he added, "that you’ll want to have to pull them up anyway, once we’re done." Michelle fled to the bedroom, her heart hammering in her ears. For months, she’d wondered what Paul would be like as a disciplinarian. Would he be as strict, yet loving, as Joseph Zook had been years ago? How hard would he spank? Would she cry? Would she beg for him to stop? Her stomach was roiling as she stripped out of her clothes and pulled on the nightshirt. He’d said that he would spank both with his hand and with an implement, but the only real spanking implement they had was the cane — and he’d already said he wouldn’t use that. So what would he use? Michelle caught her reflection in the dresser-top mirror and realized she was chewing on her lower lip, a habit her mother had constantly remarked on during her childhood. It was a habit she reverted to only when she was terribly nervous about something. She was
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still worrying that lower lip when she returned to the living room to face Paul. Paul caught his breath the moment his wife stepped back into the room. Lord, she was beautiful. She’d chosen to sleep in one of his old football jerseys and the way the fabric skimmed the swell of her breasts to fall to mid-thigh served to highlight the part of her anatomy he was most concerned with at the moment. The deep red of the shirt was a stark contrast to her slim legs, still fair from a winter in hiding. Taking her hand, he led her to the dinette chair he’d moved into the middle of the living room. Seating himself, Paul tugged his wife forward to stand between his legs. The brush of her legs against his inner thighs caused a reaction he had not anticipated. He was already achingly aroused, and he’d not even bared her yet. This was going to be much harder than he’d thought. Michelle stood before her husband, her face aflame with humiliation. Nothing in her fantasies compared to the reality that she was suddenly faced with. "It will hurt — a lot," he’d said. Those words chased through her mind, making her stomach churn with nerves. How could she possibly endure this? "Michelle," Paul said, taking her cold hands in his own, "I want you to tell me why you’re about to be spanked." Although her eyes grew wide in surprise, Michelle found her voice and replied, "Because I took money from our savings for something we didn’t need and hadn’t agreed on." "And?" "And when you confronted me about it, I was nasty and hateful. And Paul," she rushed on, "I am so sorry. Please forgive me!" Paul drew his wife’s hands up to his lips and kissed each palm in turn. "Honey, I know you’re sorry, and of course I forgive you. I will always
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forgive you. But I am also going to spank you, not out of anger, but with the hope that we can prevent this type of thing from happening again. Do you understand?" Unable to force out another word, Michelle simply nodded. "All right then," he said as he maneuvered her into place. "Over my knee, young lady. It’s time for you to learn that there will be consequences for your actions." Michelle was a bit confused when her husband turned her between his legs and helped her to settle into place, her stomach resting solely on his left thigh. Then she felt him close his right leg over the backs of her knees, and the reasoning for the awkward position was made crystal clear. Bent over his knee as she was, her nose nearly touching the floor while her legs were locked firmly in place, she knew there would be no escape. He was free to spank her as long and as hard as he felt was necessary and she would be unable to protect herself. Her breath came in short gasps as she realized she was completely at her husband’s mercy. Paul felt his wife stiffen, heard the way her breath caught, and his heart went out to her. He’d been spanked enough as a kid to know that the helpless anticipation could be sheer torment. The knowledge that someone — even someone you loved and trusted — was going to purposefully inflict pain on a part of your body fully expecting you to lay still and accept that pain was unnerving. "Shhhh," he murmured as he rubbed her back briefly. "It’s going to be okay, honey. There will be pain, but I promise I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me on that?" Michelle nodded and willed herself to relax. "Yes."
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He skimmed the shirt up then, and tucked it under the arm that he wrapped firmly about her waist. His hand was a brief caress on her exposed bottom before he drew his arm back to deliver the first stinging smack. Michelle gasped as his hand made contact full on her right cheek. A second stinging smack, just below the first, made her hands clench and unclench in the carpet. Gritting her teeth, she refused to cry out. Paul had never given a spanking before, but he’d been on the receiving end enough times to know that a thorough punishment took time. With careful precision, he brought his hand down in a steady rhythm, his goal to make sure his wife’s bottom glowed a warm, rosy hue. Individual handprints quickly gave way to an overall pink color that covered the area from the top of each quivering cheek to the rounded delineation between buttocks and thighs. He did not bother to count the times he brought his slapping palm down because he knew that the real gage was in her reactions. Michelle tried hard to keep still and remain quiet but, as the fire in her backside grew, her resolution wavered. A hard smack to one previously untouched thigh did away with her silence all together and she began to cry out, a chorus of "ouches" mixed with pleas. "Ow! Not there," she cried as her husband continued his assault to the ultra-sensitive backs of her thighs, and desperately reached a hand back to try to protect the spot. Instantly, the spanking stopped. "Michelle," Paul said quietly, "Do you know what my Dad used to do if we tried to protect ourselves like that?" "What?" She wished she could be as calm as he sounded but, damn, it hurt. Somehow she hadn’t expected him to spank quite so hard.
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"He’d stand us up and make us fetch the wooden ruler out of his desk. Then we’d have to hold out each palm for a smack or two, to remind us to keep our hands out of the way. Believe me honey, after a few trips to that desk to fetch the ruler, my sisters and I all learned to keep our hands out of the way during a spanking. The pain of that ruler applied to our palms was a hell of a lot worse than anything we’d been trying to protect ourselves from." After a significant pause, he went on. "Do I need to send you to fetch a ruler, young lady?" "No." "No what?" Paul emphasized his question with a hard smack to the thigh his wife wasn’t protecting. "No, sir," she said as she hastily brought her hand back around to grasp his ankle. "I’m sorry. It won’t happen again." "Good." With that said, Paul brought his open palm back down to make stinging contact once again. Michelle did manage to keep her hands in place, though the sharp pain forced tears to her eyes. Right cheek, left cheek — he began retracing his steps to further redden already burning flesh, and the tears spilled over. Gasping, the young woman tried to wriggle away from the painful punishment, but it was no use. "That’s enough," she cried out, anger replacing the fear she’d felt earlier. "Let me up, Paul! I’ve had enough." When he continued to inflict blow after blow to her throbbing behind, she fought all the harder. "I said let me up, damn you!" "There will be," Paul said as he rained down a volley of hard smacks to the backs of his wife’s thighs, "no cursing." He watched as she wriggled and fought, confident in the knowledge that the thighs were always the most sensitive to a wellapplied spank. "Am I making myself clear, young lady?"
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"Yes! Yes," she wailed, becoming more frantic with every smack to her blazing rear. "I’m sorry. Please Paul, I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!" "Good." Paul rested his hand on his wife’s bottom. It was nearly as red as the old shirt she wore, and hot to the touch. After a final dozen spanks he set her on her feet and announced, "Almost done." Michelle, rubbing furiously at her burning skin, looked aghast. "Almost? You mean it’s not over?" Reaching around to grasp both Michelle’s wrists, Paul pulled her hands away from her bottom. "There is no rubbing allowed," he forced himself to say. "Now, I want you to march yourself right over to that desk you bought," he said, pointing to the antique he’d already moved into a corner of the living room, "and lean over the top with your hands on the seat." Michelle wanted badly to refuse, but one look at her husband’s grim expression was enough warning that she held her tongue. Instead, she made her way to the desk and took the position he’d indicated. He stood behind her, guiding with a hand on the small of her back, until her tummy was in contact with the desktop. To her horror, she found the position required her to stand with her legs spread wide open. Her face flushed as she became aware of all that Paul could see. Never had she been so humiliated, and she vowed to herself that her husband would never again have cause to punish her. "Now that I have your attention," Paul said from somewhere behind her, "I’m going to use my belt to remind you that you are never again to take money out of the savings without consulting me. You are also not to make purchases over our agreed upon limit without discussing it with me first. And you will most certainly not speak to me as you did earlier tonight. Do you understand?"
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"Y-yes, sir." "All right then," he said as he drew off his belt and doubled it over. "Now hold still and I’ll give you only a dozen this time around although," he added, "it should probably be more. If you get out of position or try to fight me, it will be." The sound of Paul’s belt drawn through his belt loops made Michelle’s stomach clench with dread. Gripping hard to the seat of the chair, she shivered as he tapped her bottom with the belt. Then she felt the leather withdrawn just before it whistled down to explode across her already sore flesh. "Oh," she gasped, "Please not so hard, Paul! Please!" Paul knew that he had already stayed his strength considerably, but her plea cut him to the core. Still, he knew he would not be doing her any favors if she thought she could control how hard he spanked. This first lesson, he determined, needed to make an impression. He brought the belt down for a second lash, the force commensurate with the first. "Ayahhh!" she moaned as she twisted and wiggled. Only Paul’s hand in the small of her back prevented her from making the mistake of rising. "I’m sorry, Michelle," he said quietly, "but neither of us will be served if I let you off now. Please, try to stay still and it will all be over with soon." Michelle’s tears were puddling on the seat of the old desk when she whispered, "I’ll try." The rest of the strokes were delivered in rapid succession; Michelle crying as the belt made sizzling contact with her bottom and thighs. Each stinging blow added to the raging fire that she feared would overcome her any moment. And then it was over, and Paul was pulling her up into his arms and shushing her with gentle kisses and equally gentle hands.
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"I’m sorry," she managed to sob out as he led her to the corner. "I’m so sorry, Paul. Please say you’ll forgive me." "Of course," he murmured against her hair. Then, turning her toward the wall, he kissed her shoulder gently. "You stand here and hold your shirt up to show me your bottom. And remember, no rubbing." His gruff voice broke as he warned her, "I don’t want to have to spank you again for that, honey. Just wait here long enough for me to get the room back in order and then I’ll get you into bed." She probably stood in the corner for less than five minutes, but it seemed an eternity until Paul came and led her to their bedroom. He tucked her gently into bed, then undressed and joined her beneath the quilt. Michelle snuggled into her husband’s embrace, surprised at the peace she felt. It was as if she wanted to crawl inside him, to be completely surrounded by his warmth. Never before had she felt quite so safe, so loved. Never once had she imagined this aftereffect of a spanking, for she was far more content than she’d dreamed possible. Still wondering over that contentment, she fell asleep in her husband’s arms.
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Chapter Five "Camping?" Michelle looked at her husband, incredulous. "Paul, you’ve got to be kidding. You know how I feel about roughing it. You can’t seriously expect me to spend a three-day weekend living out of a tent." "It’s not a tent," Paul replied as he angrily chopped lettuce. "I told you Mom and Dad said we could stay with them in the trailer. It won’t be so bad." Michelle stood at the stove, stirring spaghetti sauce. "Oh yeah. That’ll be so much better. We can sleep in that dinky little space in one end – what is it? a table by day and a bed by night? – and listen to your father at the other end, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Yep, that’s my idea of a relaxing way to spend the holiday weekend." "Michelle! For heaven’s sake, you make it sound like some kind of torture, but the Zook reunions are fun. And besides, you didn’t get to meet a lot of the Indiana family members last year, because so many of them couldn’t make it out here. But, I just know you’ll love Rick and his wife, and a lot of the other young couples. And Karen will be there, as well. You haven’t seen her for a while now." "Honey," Michelle said, trying her best to interject a note of reason into her voice. "It’s not that I don’t want to go to the reunion. It’s just that I really hate to camp. Okay? I mean, I despise those lookdown toilets. For crying out loud, anything could be lurking in those outhouses."
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"Dad said the campground has running water," Paul replied. "There’s even a shower house." "Okay. But even so, how do you get clean in a filthy shower house full of mosquitoes and spiders – not to mention the possibility of entire beehives? Remember what happened when I went in to use the bathroom at the State Park? All those hornets were swarming around and I got stung. It was just lucky that I didn’t have a horrible reaction, like I do to bees. If I had, we’d probably never have made it back to the hospital in time." "I thought you had one of those anti-whatever kits. You know…with the shot, in case you get stung." "It’s an anaphylactic shock kit and I do have one, Paul, but that’s not the point. I don’t want to have to give myself a shot and, even if I do, I’ll still be miserable all weekend, just from the sting itself." Paul sighed. Maybe his wife did have a point. After all, he wanted her to enjoy the reunion as much as he did and he knew that would never happen if she spent the entire weekend hiding out in a hot camper, terrified of every buzzing insect that happened by. "Okay, how about a compromise," he said. "How about you and I find a hotel to stay in? Would that work?" Michelle was still a bit reluctant to go to the reunion for, in truth, she’d not been getting along with her mother-in-law all that well of late. But she could hear the hope in her husband’s voice and realized that staying at a hotel – away from all the others – was a pretty big sacrifice for him. Settling a lid on the bubbling spaghetti sauce, she moved to slip her arms around his waist. "That sounds like a good compromise," she murmured against his broad back. "Now tell me again where in Indiana we’re going and I’ll get online and make the reservations tonight."
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"Goshen," Paul reminded her, as he relaxed into a smile. "And thanks, ‘Chelle. I promise, this is going to be fun." ______________ "You’re staying where?" Claudia looked from Michelle to her son for confirmation. "Why?" "We decided we’d be more comfortable at the Holiday Inn, Mom," Paul said around a forkful of his mother’s mashed potatoes. "Besides, Michelle is allergic to bee stings and there’s really no sense in risking that any more than necessary." "Oh, don’t be silly." Claudia’s tone was light, but Michelle felt the anger behind her words. "You can get stung by a bee anywhere. That’s no reason to spend the entire weekend hiding out in a hotel." Michelle, fighting the urge to offer a retort, was grateful to Paul’s father when he patted his wife’s hand and said soothingly, "Now, now dear. The kids are going, and that’s what’s important. It doesn’t matter where they sleep." "But how on earth can you cook something for the covered dish on Sunday?" the older woman continued. "It’s not like you’re going to have an oven in your room at the Holiday Inn." "We can pick up a bucket of chicken or lunchmeat and buns for sandwiches," Michelle put in quickly. "Really, it’s no big deal." Michelle noticed the stubborn set of her motherin-law’s chin and thought perhaps she meant to offer more criticism, but just then, Jay leaned over and whispered something into his wife’s ear. Claudia Zook’s face colored, but she clamped her mouth shut, just the same. Could it be that Jay had threatened to spank her? The newest of the Zook brides nearly laughed out loud at that thought until she felt her own husband reach over and squeeze her knee. Glancing up into his face, she was instantly sobered by the look. "That’s enough," his
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eyes warned and she felt her own face flame. Retrieving her fork, she put all her energy into finishing her dinner. She really had no desire to earn a spanking — especially not here. Although she doubted that Paul would punish her here, she felt it best not to take any chances. The last thing she wanted was to find out she’d been wrong. After that, the conversation turned to the farm, with Jay and Paul talking shop while Claudia and Michelle maintained an uncharacteristic silence. When supper was over and the men had left the house, Michelle automatically moved to clear the dishes, but her mother-in-law said stiffly, "Just leave them, Michelle, and I’ll get them later. I want to make sure I get everything put back in its proper place this time." "Okay," Michelle said, piqued by the insinuation that she didn’t do the dishes properly. "I guess I don’t know your kitchen as well as you seem to know mine." She referred, of course, to an incident that had occurred a few months prior. Michelle had hurt her back and, following a few days in the hospital, she’d been sent home with a portable traction unit and orders to remain in bed. Claudia had come over to help and it wasn’t until Michelle had been up and around again that she’d realized just what her mother-in-law’s idea of "help" entailed. The young woman had been angered to find that Paul’s mother had completely rearranged her kitchen, putting everything exactly where she had suggested on the day that she and Paul had moved into the place. It had taken Michelle hours to return everything to the way she’d had it before her fall – and then Claudia had had the nerve to stop by, take one look at the placement of the spice racks and cooking utensils and inquired as to why Michelle hadn’t liked her changes. Why hadn’t she liked the changes? It had
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taken all of Michelle’s willpower to avoid a confrontation then and there. Since that day, things had been strained between the two women. Now it seemed the trip to Indiana was going to be just one more bone of contention. Sighing, Michelle went out to the living room to wait for her husband, who’d offered to help his father with the chores. The sound of dishes being clattered about the kitchen was a constant distraction that kept her from fully focusing on the newspaper article before her. The moment she heard the farm truck roll into the driveway, she hurried from the house, anxious to be on her way. She met Paul and Jay halfway between house and barn and, sliding her hand into her husband’s, asked, "You ready to get home, honey? I really need to work on those files I brought home from the office." "Oh?" Paul wrapped his arm about his wife’s shoulders and proceeded to walk her back towards the house. "I thought you had your typing finished up." "Not quite," Michelle fibbed. "I still need to do the proofing and I don’t want to be up all night working on any mistakes I find. So, can we go?" "Sure," Paul replied. "But let’s at least run in and say good-bye to Mom." "Oh, I already did," Michelle lied. "I’ll just wait for you in the car." Paul proceeded into the house but, as Michelle headed for the car, her father-in-law caught up to her. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he smiled down at his daughter-in-law. "Did she give you a hard time after we left?" he asked, fatherly concern in his eyes. Stunned, Michelle didn’t know quite what to say. As irritated as she was with her mother-in-law, the young woman was hesitant to cause trouble. "I –
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um – I think she just wanted a bit of time to herself," she replied. "It’s really no big deal, Jay." Jay opened the passenger side door and ushered Michelle into the car. "I understand," he said gently. "And don’t you worry about a thing. You’re good for my boy, and that’s what counts. These little upsets between a man’s mother and his wife are bound to happen but I’m sure Claudia will be in far better spirits come next week." Michelle bobbed her head, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Okay." With that, Jay shut the car door. There had been nothing of anger in his tone or actions but it was the way he held himself as he walked back to the house that gave Michelle pause. It was the same way that Paul moved when he was determined to do something particularly unpleasant, like spank her for some genuine wrongdoing. It was exactly the way her husband looked that very moment, as he met his father going into the house. Dread coiled in the young woman’s stomach as she watched the two men stop to speak to one another. Paul looked angry and she wished she hadn’t told that little white lie about having already said good-bye to his mother. Still, how big a deal could such a little fib be? Michelle sat in the car, anxious, as she watched the exchange between father and son. Surely, even if Paul had discovered her little half-truth, he’d not tell his father that he was going to spank her. That would be beyond humiliating! Still, she began to squirm in her seat. Despite whatever Paul’s father had said to him, he still had that "you’re in big trouble, young lady" look in his eyes, even if it was tempered a bit by the time he opened his car door and swung into his seat. "Why didn’t you help Mom with the dishes?" he asked as he gunned the motor. "You know, it wasn’t very nice of you to leave them for her to do alone."
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Michelle stared at her husband, stunned. Why that old biddy! "She wouldn’t even let me dry up," she replied, eyes blazing. "She told me she wanted everything put back properly, Paul. She didn’t want my help!" That immediately took quite a bit of wind out of Paul’s sails. Visibly relaxing, he stopped the car at the top of the long drive and turned to his wife. "Okay. I’m sorry, ‘Chelle. I was ready to march you back in there to apologize, but Dad stopped me. He had an idea Mom might have been less than nice, which is why I figured we’d have this conversation on our own. So just tell me, had you really told her good-bye, like you said?" This was the perfect opportunity, and Michelle knew it. Paul already had cause to doubt his mother and would probably believe her if she lied. But glancing up into his eyes, she knew she couldn’t do that. "No," she admitted quietly. "I was hurt and angry, Paul, and I just wanted out of there. So I told you I had said good-bye so I wouldn’t have to go back and face your mom again." Paul eased the car up onto the road and, without looking at his wife, asked, "Why?" "Because she hates me, that’s why. You saw how she reacted when we told her we were going to stay at a hotel next weekend. She didn’t like it. She went on about how I wouldn’t be able to cook for the potluck, like it was some huge deal." Now that she’d started talking, the young woman’s words came fast and furious. At the first stoplight going into their small town, he interrupted her, saying, "Michelle, you’d best settle down." "And you remember how she rearranged our cupboards?" the young woman went on, oblivious. "Your mom doesn’t approve of me, Paul. She thinks just because I don’t do everything her way that I’m wrong. And I’m sick of it!"
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Michelle’s voice was growing louder as she reached the crux of her argument. At the second light, Paul’s tone was clipped and authoritative. "Young lady, I’m warning you —" Now fully geared up for a fight, Michelle ignored her husband completely. "And that’s why I don’t want to go to this stupid reunion next weekend! It’s not fair for you to expect me to spend three whole days with your mother picking at every single thing I do and say! I’m not going, Paul! I swear, you can just go without me, ‘cause I am not going." The third light was green and Paul took the corner a bit too quickly, leaving Michelle stunned and a little nauseous when he coasted into their driveway. "That’s it," he said through clenched teeth. "Upstairs, in position. Now!" "Wh-what?" she sputtered, eyes round with surprise. "You can’t be serious. I haven’t done anything!" Killing the engine, the young man jerked his keys from the ignition. "Michelle, I am going to tell you one more time. I want you to go upstairs and get into position. We will continue this discussion there." Michelle did not move from her seat, but instead, folded her arms across her chest and stared straight ahead. "No." Paul blew out a deep, frustrated breath before he opened his own car door and climbed out. Then, striding around to the passenger side, he jerked open Michelle’s door. Crouching down, he spoke to her in a low, controlled tone. "Michelle, I have asked you to do something and I expect my directions to be followed. Now, are you going to go up those stairs on your own two feet, or am I going to have to carry you up?" She turned to him, incredulous. "You wouldn’t!" The next moment, tears swam in her eyes. "Paul, you’re not being fair. I’m not the one who started
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this thing with your mother. She’s the one who ought to be getting a spanking — not me." "Sweetheart, if I know my dad — and I think I do — then that’s probably exactly what she’s getting right about now. But that has nothing to do with the way you just spoke to me, now does it?" Taking her chin gently in his hand, Paul forced his wife to turn and look at him. "I don’t intend to punish you for the crap with my mom. But I do mean to teach you that I will not tolerate being yelled at, Michelle. Now," he said as he stood and offered her a hand, "you were very rude and disrespectful to me, and I am going to address that subject. I would prefer to do that upstairs, in the privacy of our own home, but if you’d rather I put you over my knee here and now —" His gaze swept the gravel parking lot meaningfully, "Well, I guess that can be arranged." Michelle’s heart sank. She knew when she was defeated, and all she could hope for now was a graceful retreat. Taking her husband’s hand, she exited the car, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her stomach was doing flip-flops as they made their way up the stairs. This was not going to be fun. "All right," Paul said when he’d locked the front door behind them. "You know what I expect, Michelle. I want you to go get ready while I take a few minutes to cool off. Understand?" Michelle did not speak, but rather, bobbed her head obediently before hurrying to their bedroom. Once there, she removed both shorts and panties and, with stomach a-quiver, draped herself across the foot of the bed. The fact that she was short and the bed tall made this difficult and by the time she was positioned with a pillow beneath her pelvis, her legs dangled uselessly. She felt horribly exposed and vulnerable which, she knew, was exactly the point. In addition to the fact that she was barebottomed and waiting for her husband to come in
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and begin her spanking, she had left the bedroom door open as was expected. This meant that Paul, whom she could hear in the kitchen, had only to stick his head around the corner and he could see straight through the living room and into their bedroom, getting a nice view of his wife’s bare backside for his troubles. At times like this, the young woman’s every nerve was alive and jumping. Every sound seemed magnified, every breeze cooler and more invasive. When the central air kicked on, it blew down with a mighty gust, causing goose flesh to bubble up on her exposed skin. The fact that she was shivering now would, she knew, make the intense heat from the spanking even less bearable. How on earth did she manage to get herself into these messes? And what on earth would he use? That question was answered in short order, for Paul entered the room and, leaning over her, laid the wooden hairbrush down, directly in her line of vision. "This ought to help you get your mind in the right place," he said before he returned to the living room and, picking up the remote, turned the TV on. Michelle was half-tempted to get up and give her husband a piece of her mind, but thinking better of it, she decided to stay in place. Ever since she had introduced domestic discipline to him, their home life had been so much more peaceful and harmonious. And besides, Paul had never spanked her when it wasn’t warranted. Closing her eyes against the sight of the wicked-looking brush, she thought over the events that had led her to this place. She had been mouthy and disrespectful, so she supposed she did deserve this. Still, it was awfully hard to lie there, waiting, while Paul watched golf and sipped on iced tea. She was caught between hoping he would cool down soon and wishing that he would never come back to use
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that brush on her bottom. It was her first wish that was granted. "All right, Michelle," Paul said when he, at last, returned to their room. Reaching over her, he retrieved the hairbrush and held the cool wood to one tightly clenched bottom cheek. "I want you to tell me why you’re about to be spanked." Michelle hated this part and, closing her eyes briefly, she wished herself anywhere but here. Still, she had no genie tucked away in an old lamp, and she knew perfectly well that her husband was going to spank her. Sighing, she found her voice, and spoke. "I was rude to you, Paul. I yelled and acted basically like a brat over this junk with your mom and the reunion." Her voice carried a plea when she finished with, "And I’m very sorry, honey. Really, I am." "I’m sure you are," Paul said as he rubbed his wife’s lower back. "But right now, I suspect you’re more sorry that you’re going to be spanked than you are that you were rude and disrespectful. I intend to change that." He brought the flat of the hairbrush down hard, directly in the center of his wife’s bottom. "Understand?" Michelle squirmed as the pain made itself felt. "Mmm-hmm," she murmured, miserable. "Good." Paul swung the hairbrush down again and watched a dark red oval bloom on his wife’s once white skin. "Now, enough talk. It’s time for action." With that, the paddling began in earnest. Although his erotic spankings were always given slowly, with time in between each smack, punishments were different. Michelle gasped and struggled as a series of powerful smacks fell, so rapidly that she found it hard to catch her breath. "Please," she begged when she found her voice. "Oh Paul! Please, not so hard."
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Her husband paid her no mind, but simply continued to bring the brush down in an unrelenting rhythm. Each time wood met flesh, the soft skin flattened out before bouncing back into place, an oval of red marking the spot that the brush had claimed. Each time, Michelle kicked out, frantic to make the sting subside. "Knock it off, ‘Chelle," Paul warned. "You kick me, and you’re only going to get worse." "I — can’t help — it," Michelle panted, miserably. "It hurts so much!" "It’s supposed to hurt," he replied, but stopped spanking just the same. Smoothing his hand across her inflamed posterior, he considered the situation. He’d given her a dozen smacks at most — not nearly enough to call this a thorough spanking. Still, he did know it was hard for her to be still and he had no great desire to be kicked or to have to punish her all the more for making that mistake. Finally, he made up his mind. Paul helped his wife gain her footing and then seated himself on the corner of the bed. "Over my knee," he said as he patted his left thigh. "We’ll finish this the old fashioned way. Michelle wiped tears from her cheeks before gingerly lowering herself over her husband’s left leg. She shuddered when she felt him clamp his legs closed, effectively pinning her into place. "Please, honey," she begged as she brought a hand back to shield her throbbing skin. "I’ve had enough. Please don’t spank me any more." "I don’t think so," Paul said as, grasping her wrist, he pinned her arm into the small of her back. "I don’t hear any true remorse, yet, young lady. But I’m sure I will before we’re done here." After that, there was nothing but the sound of wood striking flesh as Michelle writhed and hissed over her husband’s lap. He reddened her bottom and she cried. He peppered her thighs with stinging
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smacks and she nearly howled. And finally, after a volley of hard and fast spanks directed to her sit spot, Michelle hung over her husband’s lap, limp and sobbing. Sensing that she’d had enough, Paul laid down the brush and proceeded to rub his wife’s back in soothing circles. They stayed like that, her sobs lessening to quiet sniffles as he talked to her in low, patient tones. "Have you learned your lesson, honey?" he finally asked. Michelle nodded her head as she wiped at her nose with the back of her free hand. "Yes. I’m so sorry, Paul. Can you forgive me?" "Of course, " he said as she squeezed her shoulder gently. "And Michelle — if you really feel that uncomfortable around my mom, we don’t have to go to the reunion. The last thing I want is for you to feel attacked, though I’d imagine my dad has handled that end in the customary manner." "Do you really think your dad would spank your mom?" she asked from her upside down position. Paul chuckled. "Well, he told me not so long ago that he had before. And when I met him going into the house he had that somebody’s-going-to-get-alicking look in his eye. I don’t want to think about it too hard, but my guess is, yeah, Mom got her fair share today." Michelle chewed on her lower lip as Paul helped to right her. "I hope it doesn’t just make her angrier with me." Pulling his wife down into his lap, the young man kissed her forehead tenderly. "Let’s not worry about Mom and Dad, okay? They can work out their own problems, honey. This is about us. If you don’t want to go to the reunion, just say so. I’ll cancel the reservations today." Looking up into her husband’s eyes, Michelle knew that she couldn’t ask him to miss something
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he had so looked forward to. "No, it’s okay," she replied. "We’ll go. After all, I’ve got a lot of family yet to meet." Hugging her to him, Paul smiled. "That’s my girl! And you know what, honey? I’m sure everything will be all right. You just wait and see." ______________ Meanwhile, three miles away at the Zook family farm, a defiant Claudia stood with her nose in the corner, red bottom on display. She’d not been spanked in years and, rather than feeling repentant, she was furious. Still, she knew better than to let on to her husband, lest the entire process start over, so she answered meekly when he asked if she’d had enough. "Yes, Jay. You don’t need to worry. I’ve learned my lesson," she said just before he opened his arms and drew her into his embrace. "And the lesson is that next time," she thought to herself, "I won’t get caught.
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Chapter Six Michelle Zook tossed one last armload of shorts and tank tops into the suitcase with a sigh. Paul would be home soon, which meant she had less than an hour to get her attitude under control before he walked in the door. She was not looking forward to the reunion, mostly because she did not relish the idea of her mother-in-law breathing down her neck about everything from cooking to her recent career change to what was apparently, to Claudia, a disappointing lack of grandchildren. Still, she knew her husband was excited about seeing his cousins and visiting some of the old family haunts, and she would not disappoint him at this point. No, she'd make it through somehow. She could only hope to do so without his special brand of encouragement. She'd already been paddled twice this week—due in part to the attitude she'd been sporting—and had no intention of making her backside a target again. It promised to be a long ride to the campground in Indiana and an aching bottom would only serve to make it all the more unbearable. Suitcase packed, she hurried to gather up the rest of the things she would need for the weekend. Packing up the toiletries was easy enough, but one look at the kitchen cupboard practically sent her into a panic. Where on earth was the almond extract? Surely she couldn't be out of it already. Turning about, she scanned the stovetop and counters. She couldn't possibly make her no-bake
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cookies without it and there was no time left for a grocery store run. "Damn. What on earth am I going to do now?" "Do about what?" Paul stood in the doorway, sweat glistening on his face and neck. "What's wrong, 'Chelle?" "Oh lord! You scared me," she replied with a frown. "I didn't hear you come in. And for heaven's sake, why are you sweating like that? I know it's hot outside, but it's only one flight of stairs, Paul." He grimaced. "Well, honey…it's the air conditioner in the truck. It's on the fritz again." Michelle wilted on the spot, her shoulders slumping despondently. "You have got to be kidding. We can't ride all the way out to Indiana in the dead of August with no air conditioning." Paul, looking fairly miserable himself, was clearly in no mood for an argument. "Well, there's nothing else we really can do. We promised we'd get that desk of Grandma's out to my cousin and it's not going to fit in the car." Michelle turned to the cupboards, began to rummage through them with impatient motions. "I don't see why we have to do this in the first place. Why couldn't your parents take the dumb thing out in their truck? Why can't it be their problem?" Hot, irritable and exasperated, Paul reached for Michelle's wrist and turned her around to face him. "Young lady, we have been over this already. Dad couldn’t squeeze the desk into his truck bed with everything hooked up, and the door to the trailer was too small for us to get it in there. Michelle—" His eyes narrowed and his tone held a note of warning. "I do not want to hear one more word about this. Now, what are you looking for? You promised me you'd be ready to go when I got back."
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Michelle blinked back tears of frustration and forced an even tone to her words. "I can't find the almond extract. Do you have any idea where it is?" "Sure. You asked me to pack up everything you'd need for that recipe this morning. And believe me, with all your harping, I did not miss the almond. It's already down in the truck. "I'm sorry." The young woman chewed on her bottom lip, certain she had crossed the line with her grouchy behavior. She'd be lucky if this didn't earn her a serious spanking. Paul let out an exaggerated sigh. "It's okay, honey. I know you don't look forward to the ride— especially now—and neither do I. But it won't be so bad, once we get some air moving through the truck. So, you ready to get going?" "Yeah, just let me get those diaries of Grandma Anna's that I promised to take out. I've not had a chance to read all of them, so I think I'll do that on the way." "Okay. But don't make yourself sick reading in the truck." "I won't." Michelle gathered up the timeworn journals. "And maybe it will keep my mind off the heat," she reminded herself as Paul locked the front door behind them. Half an hour later, she'd worked her way through Anna's child-rearing years, during which the first Mrs. Zook had also taken on the position of schoolmarm. Michelle was practically squirming in her seat, for Anna's accounts of punishments received and given were quite vivid. Since she'd felt her husband's strap and cane enough to remember the sting and humiliation of what she termed a "proper hiding," it appeared that Anna had been quite reluctant to dole out the same to her students. It was clear, though, that she'd performed her duty well, and Michelle noted that several names came up quite often as recipients of schoolroom discipline.
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Although most of these "regulars" were boys, there was one teen-aged girl who seemed to have quite the wicked tongue. Elizabeth Miller had quite a bit of experience with the school paddle and, at one point near the end of her school career, had been kept after class for a bare-bottom caning that had apparently been quite memorable. Her name, in fact, had not resurfaced until a year later when Anna had made a hasty and rather anxious entry in the small, leather bound book. March 17, 1858 I can hardly believe what I must write today, so horrified am I at the very thought. It seems that Miss Elizabeth Miller, that same girl who was such a thorn in my side during her school days, has somehow managed to capture the attention of half the young men in Lancaster. Of course, I would have not a care for her popularity, were it not for the fact that my own sweet boy has fallen prey to her charms and is quite smitten. You can imagine my chagrin, as Johannes is now well able to provide for a bride. I can only hope he will have better sense than to take this girl as his own. I do not believe I could tolerate having such a spoilt child as my daughter-in-law. Now I must set down my pen and tend to supper, as he intends to make her a guest here this very night. I pray that I shall be able to maintain my dignity, for Joseph has issued warning that I'm to "give the girl a chance." A chance, he says! Ha! We shall see if he remains so unperturbed following a night with Miss Miller. Michelle shook her head, much surprised by Anna's vehemence. She'd read through more than twenty years of the woman's life now, and had rarely seen such a fit of pique from her husband's ancestor. "That Elizabeth must have really been a brat to have Anna so up in arms."
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"Huh?" Paul shot his wife a glance as he turned onto the highway. "What are you talking about, 'Chelle?" "Oh, nothing." The change in direction forced sunlight through Michelle's window and she rubbed her eyes. "Geez, that's bright. I won't be able to see the page, let alone read with this glare." "Might as well lay back and close your eyes, then. After all, Friday night's always a long one what with the late arrivals and such. You might want to get rested up." "Yeah, I guess." Michelle gave in grudgingly, her attitude about the reunion kicking into high gear yet again. "Just what I need," she thought, "an extra long night during which I can spend an extra long time with my mother-in-law. I think she dislikes me every bit as much as Anna disliked Elizabeth." Eyes tightly shut, she leaned against the truck door and willed herself to relax. With one finger shut between the delicate pages of the journal, Michelle began to doze, her mind still on Anna and Elizabeth, the two most important women in Johannes Zook's life. ______________ Lancaster County, Pennsylvania March 17, 1858 Anna worked her way around her newly enlarged pantry and kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and banging pots and pans as she went. Give the girl a chance, Joseph had said. "Give the girl a chance?" Anna was fuming, although wisely enough, she did not speak aloud. "You've no idea exactly how many chances I gave the spoilt little thing, and she never failed to get herself into trouble. What's worse, her doting parents refused to see through her put on innocence and invariably complained every time I was forced to take the paddle to her backside. I was never so glad to see a girl leave for finishing school, and now she's back and coming to
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dinner in my home, and I have to give her a chance? Of all the absurd, aggravating situations—" "Mama?" Johannes poked his head around the back door, which stood open to let in a cooling breeze. "I brought ya some apples up from the cellar. Do ya think you've time to make an apple pie for dessert? Elizabeth is rather fond of apple pie, and everyone knows you make the best pie crust in the county." He was in the kitchen now, his man's frame towering over his mother while his voice took on the flattering tone that had always worked on his mother. "Please, Mama? I'll do anything I can to help ya if you'll just grant me this little boon." Anna shook her head with a grudging laugh. "Oh, all right, you sweet-mouthed thing. How could I resist when we see so little of you these days? But you do the peeling, understand?" Johannes laughed and let the apples tumble onto the worn wooden table. "Well, it's not every day I can get away from town this early. So, I guess you could say it's a special occasion." Anna rolled her eyes. "A special occasion, is it? Would that be because you've made it all the way out here for supper, or because you're about to fetch your sweetheart?" Johannes sat down and, taking up a paring knife, began to peel the apples. "Both, I guess. I only wish you saw Elizabeth like I do, Mama. I know she gave you trouble in school, but she's not the same girl now. Finishing school has changed her." Anna banged a wooden spoon on the edge of the pot she'd been stirring and turned toward her son. "There are some things that don't change, Johannes, and—" "Anna." It was Joseph's "fetch me the strap" tone and, as he walked into the kitchen, she abruptly broke off mid-sentence.
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"Hi Pa." Johannes, clearly aware of the tension between his parents, laid the knife down. "Say," he continued to direct his words to the man who stood behind him, "one of my horses seems to have a shoe loose. Could you come out and take a look at it with me? I might need someone to hold him if I have to put a nail in it. You know how skittish Donner can be." Joseph nodded and clapped his son on the back. "Of course," he said, though his eyes never left his wife's face. Why don't you go on out and secure him in the stall and I'll be along presently." "Yes sir." Johannes gave his mother a slightly apologetic glance, and then he was gone. Alone with her husband, Anna licked dry lips and turned back to the stove. Had she already managed to cross over the line her husband had laid down? The question was answered when Joseph reached around her and took the spoon from her hand. "What did I tell you about interfering in the boy's relationship?" His voice was quiet—far too quiet—and her stomach clenched with nervous anticipation. "You know how I feel about this, Anna." "I'm sorry." "Mmmph." Clearly unconvinced, Joseph took a clean wooden spoon from a hook on the side of the stove, and pulled his wife away from the bubbling pan. "Lift your skirts, Anna, and bend over a bit." Her pleas began immediately. "Oh please, Joseph. You don't need to spank me. I'll not say another word. I promise!" "I certainly hope you won't, and a taste of this spoon'll help you to remember. Now—" He turned her around and lifted her chin, forced her to meet his gaze. "Are you going to lift those skirts and bend over for a reminder, or must I take you into the bedroom and give you a proper strapping?"
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Swallowing hard, Anna turned away from her husband and lifted the back of her skirts. She had no desire to feel his strap and knew that, in the bedroom, he would most certainly bare her. With yards of fabric tucked up and out of the way, she bent over and presented her bottom to her husband, relieved that he had not ordered her to take down her pantaloons here in the kitchen. Crack! The spoon announced its purpose and Anna cringed both at the sting and the noise. "Joseph," she whispered, "please not so hard. Johannes might hear." Joseph brought the spoon down again, every bit as hard, to leave its imprint on the other cheek. "If he hears, it'll not be the first time." Several more swats made impact, most falling at the base of one cheek or the other, but Anna squirmed and danced away when Joseph swung the spoon to make contact with her thighs. "Get back here," he growled. "I'm not finished with you yet." She stood, eyes filling with tears as she rubbed furiously at the sting. "Please, husband, no more. I have learned my lesson." Out of patience, Joseph grabbed up his wife and, tucking her under his arm, began to paddle her in earnest. "We will be done," he said, "when I say we're done, young lady, and not before." The spoon cracked against one burning cheek several times for emphasis. "Clearly I've been too lenient with you, Mrs. Zook, but I intend to take care of that right now." More spanks fell against the other side, each one building the fire that had her hopping from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry, sir. Truly I am," Anna breathed out an apology through her tears. "Please forgive me. I'll behave now." Finally having heard the words he'd been waiting for, Joseph delivered a few more well placed spanks
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to his wife's bottom before releasing her so that she could stand. "I love you, Anna," he whispered as he pulled her into his embrace, "but Johannes is a grown man. It's not up to us to make his decisions now, and I'll not have you interfering in his courting of this girl. Understand?" Anna brushed tears from her cheeks and nodded unhappily. "Yes, sir. I will try, Joseph. But I do so love him and only want him to be happy." He smiled, the slightly crooked curve of his lips as enticing to Anna as it had been twenty years ago. "I want him to be happy, too, but he'll only have that if he's free to make his own choice." He brushed a lock of brown hair, now streaked with silver, away from her face. "Promise me, Anna, that you'll treat this girl as you would any other guest in our home." Anna mutely nodded her acquiescence. "Good." Joseph kissed her on the forehead and turning her back toward the stove, whispered in her ear. "And understand this, Mrs. Zook. If you fail to keep this promise, I assure you that I will march you out to the woodshed for a hiding that you will not soon forget. Do I make myself clear?" Anna chewed on her lip. Her bottom was burning and, at the moment, she could think of nothing worse than adding to that pain. "I understand, Mr. Zook. I will treat Johannes' guest as though she were my most honored friend." Joseph chuckled and hugged his wife from behind. "Good. Now, you get to cooking, and I'll help our boy with that horse of his. And Anna?" He kissed the top of her head gently. "Remember that I love you." Anna meant to keep her promise, of course; if not for her son's sake, than certainly as a matter of self-protection. An hour later, however, keeping her mouth shut in the presence of Elizabeth Miller was proving harder than even she had imagined. And
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though she had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that the girl had indeed changed, she became more and more agitated as the supper progressed. "There were several young women at the school—from families of substance, I must say," Elizabeth told her captive audience, "whose families were heavily involved in the abolitionist movement. Many of them believe that, despite the President's wishes, there will be war if the Southern states secede." "War?" Anna shook her head. "Surely we must all realize that no one will benefit from such an outcome." Though in favor herself of freeing the slaves, Anna had grown up under the teachings of a non-violent people. On a more personal level, her woman's heart looked to her husband, her son. She could not bear the thought of them marching off to war, never to return. How this snippet of a girl could claim to have any feelings for Johannes and yet speak so casually of battlefields and the loss of life was beyond her. Joseph patted his wife's hand reassuringly. "I'm sure Mr. Buchanan will do all he can to prevent such a thing. Now is the time that he needs our prayers, that God might provide him wisdom." Johannes, by now 21 and a man in his own right, surprised his parents by replying almost angrily, "Is it wisdom to straddle both sides of the fence when something so clearly wrong as slavery continues to thrive? The South has no intention of releasing its hold on free labor, and they will go to any lengths to recapture the men and women we seek to free. How can we expect to keep the peace with those who deny the sanctity of life?" Anna, shocked by her son's vehemence, began to sputter a retort, but was interrupted by Elizabeth. "I realize that your church teaches peace, Mrs. Zook, but my father says—"
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"Your father? Your father had not the sense to raise a well-bred young lady! I hardly think—" "Mrs. Zook!" It was Joseph's voice that brought her back to her senses and made her immediately sorry for her outburst. In the next instant, her face flamed a hot red as her husband pushed away from the table and took a firm grip on her arm. "If you will excuse us, children, I believe my wife could use a bit of fresh air." With this, Anna was hauled to her feet and hustled through the kitchen to the back door. "Joseph," she whispered as he took his jacket down from the pegboard, "I am sorry, but you heard the girl. She's got no sense at all, talking as she is and—" His eyes sparking fire, Joseph handed Anna her shawl. "Not one more word, wife," he said curtly. "You'll hold your tongue or I promise you'll regret it. Do I make myself clear?" Anna took one look at her husband's face, recognized the features chiseled in stone, and her stomach lurched with dread. "Oh no," she half moaned, even as he ushered her out the door and closed it firmly behind them. "Oh Joseph, please not the 'shed…not with her here. I'll go back in straightaway and apologize, but please do not humiliate me so." Joseph only tightened his grip on his wife's arm and, with long strides, made for the barn and the small woodshed beyond. "I gave you fair warning," he said through clenched teeth. "If you do not wish humiliation, than I suggest you keep your voice down." At the near corner of the barn, he took down the kerosene lantern and held it up so that she did not stumble on her way around the back of the building. Then, pushing open the woodshed door, he stopped only long enough to retrieve the razor strop before he steered her toward the path that would lead
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them to the creek. Anna did not know whether to thank Joseph for sparing her the humiliation of being punished so close to the house, or to dread even more the strapping she was certain to receive, so she only hurried along silently beside him. Every now and again, she risked a quick glance at his face, but with twilight coming on fast and the lantern swinging in his left hand, her vision was limited to his profile. The firm set of his jaw was evident, however, and she felt the tension coil within her. She could not remember a time when Joseph strode so fast, looked so determined. Nerves tumbled and jolted deep within Anna, and she bit down hard on her lower lip. This was going to be bad. It seemed to take forever to reach the creek, and yet they arrived all too soon for her anxious mind. Still, when Joseph hung the lantern on the low branch of an oak tree, she was relieved to see some of the anger had faded from his eyes. The walk, it seemed, had served to soothe his temper and his voice was quiet when he turned to her. "Mrs. Zook," he said, sounding more weary than angry, "I am disappointed in your behavior. Did you not promise me that you would treat Miss Miller as an honored guest in our home?" Standing before her husband, Anna felt more like a guilty child than the mother of a grown man. "Yes sir," she murmured to her toes. "Excuse me?" Joseph reached out, slid a finger under his wife's chin and forced her eyes to his. "I did not hear you." She met the penetrating gaze and her face grew hot with shame. "Yes, I did promise you that, and I broke my word. I'm sore ashamed of myself, sir." His touch gentling, Joseph let out a weary sigh. "You've good reason to be ashamed, Mrs. Zook. And as for the sore—well, you'll know more of that in a minute. Lift your skirts and take down your
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bloomers, Anna. I see no sense in putting off what we've come here to do." With tears shimmering on her lashes, Anna did as she was instructed. Fumbling fingers found and loosened the ties on her drawers and, thus unbound, they slid down her legs to puddle on the ground. She began to lift the back of her skirts but, unsure of what her husband intended, she looked to him for guidance. His answer to her unspoken question was clear the moment he propped one booted foot up on a fallen tree. A quiet sob escaped her throat as, gathering her skirts up about her waist, Anna obediently laid herself across her husband's knee. His arm wrapped about her middle and she closed her eyes against the momentary dizziness that struck as he lifted her completely off the ground. For a moment she was aware only of the discomfort of dangling over his muscular thigh, his solidness her only anchor. Then the strap fell and she cried out at the fire that branded her from the middle of her bottom to halfway down the back of one leg. She cried from that first lick of the strap; did not, in fact, make any attempt to stem the tears that welled up from her very soul. She'd behaved horridly and was deeply ashamed. Worst of all, the memory of her son's shocked expression imprinted its accusation on her mind. Anna knew that she deserved this punishment and she almost welcomed the pain that she hoped would relieve her conscience of the horrible guilt. Of course, welcoming the emotional cleansing and bearing the physical pain were two entirely different matters. Even though her heart told her she needed this, she found it impossible to accept the punishment with any measure of grace. Instead, she flailed and kicked with each welt that was laid down, and cried out—not for mercy—but simply with the wordless song of pain endured. The
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whipping was made worse, she knew, from her position and she almost wished they had remained in the woodshed. At least there she would have leaned over something solid and Joseph would have swung the strap to cross her bottom cheeks. Dangling over his knee, however, the strap fell in a downward motion, leaving the tip to catch low on the back of her churning thighs. She would certainly never forget this strapping, but rather would remember each fiery stroke by the burning patches of skin that peppered the backs—and even the insides—of her legs. Joseph lectured, as was his practice, but she heard only bits of what he said. Still, phrases such as, "so disappointed" and "embarrassed our son" caught her attention, causing the tears to flow until she collapsed, exhausted and sobbing, over her high perch. It was then that he eased her to the ground and, seeing how her legs threatened to collapse, took a seat on the fallen log where he rocked and soothed Anna until her tears had finally begun to quiet. "I am sorry, wife," he said at length, "that such measures were necessary. I never thought to have to strap you in such a manner." "I-I know." Anna sniffled, her heart torn by his words. "Please, will you grant me your forgiveness? I am truly sorry." Joseph smiled and gently kissed the top of his wife's head. "Of course I forgive you, but there are others to whom you must offer an apology. Are you ready to return to the house and do so?" Anna nodded into her husband's shirtfront. "Yes, sir. Let us hurry, though, lest Joseph take his sweetheart home before we get there. I do not wish to have to wait another moment to make amends to Miss Miller, as I am quite sure she will soon be our son's bride."
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Joseph's eyes twinkled as he helped his wife to her feet. "I believe you're right, Mrs. Zook. And besides, we don't want to be at odds with the mother of our future grandchildren. Do we, Granny?" As they started back to the house, Anna gave her husband a playful slap on the arm. "I'm too young to be a Granny," she said, but hope for the future shone in her eyes. ______________ Michelle awoke, jolted to consciousness by a succession of potholes, each threatening to swallow the wheels of the pick-up truck. "Oh, ouch," she mumbled, rubbing at the spot where her temple had struck the passenger side door. "What on earth?" "Sorry babe." Paul looked over at her, cheerful as ever. "But it's a good thing you woke up. We're almost there." Just then, they rounded a bend and the woods broke apart to reveal a large clearing. Michelle's eyes opened wide at the sight of almost a hundred people, all milling about trailers and tents, or relaxing in folding chairs. And there, in the center of it all like a queen bee amidst the drones, was Claudia Zook. Michelle stifled her moan, but could not so easily suppress her dread. It was going to be a very long weekend.
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Chapter Seven "You're late!" They were the first words out of Claudia Zook's mouth and, despite the fact that the comment was directed toward Paul, Michelle felt the accusation in her mother-in-law's tone. "We were starting to get worried. What took you so long?" Paul shrugged off the question. "The a.c. went out again and I stopped to have it looked at before we left town." He pulled up the hem of his tee shirt and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. "There was no quick fix, though, so it's been a heck of a drive." Jay Zook stepped forward and took his wife's elbow in a meaningful grasp. "You must be about melted." He smiled at Michelle, then turned to his son. "Did you kids check into your motel?" "Nope, not yet. I thought we'd best get this desk over here first, so Rick could take it home before it rains. It looks like it's going to storm any minute." "Good idea." Jay clapped his son on the back. "I think your cousin's in the rec building, playing euchre. Let's see if we can't get this taken care of, and then you two should probably go check in." He inclined his head toward Michelle and offered her a conspiratorial wink. "I bet your bride could use a cool shower or a dip in the pool. Somebody said it's really nice — a Holidome." "They're not going to have time for that, Jay." Claudia had pulled away from her husband's grasp and was waving to one of the family members seated in the shade beneath a tall oak tree.
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"Everybody's been asking for them…since last night, really." "Claudia." No one could miss the implication in the older man's tone, nor the way he tilted his head to shoot his wife a pointed glance over the top of his glasses. "There'll be plenty of time for the kids to talk to everybody. But they had a long, hot drive and if they want to cool off, then that's what they're going to do. Understand?" Michelle watched her mother-in-law nod and noticed the way her throat moved in a compulsive swallow. "Of course, Jay." She was saying all the right words, but her posture made it clear that she was anything but pleased with this pronouncement. "I didn't mean to sound bossy." She turned a saccharine-sweet smile on her daughter -in-law. "That pool'll probably feel good, but you know there's a water slide here…right?" Michelle nodded. She'd heard about the waterslide that led to a pond. Perhaps it had been nice at one time, but Karen had called last night to say that it was more a mud hole than a pond; and Michelle was less than thrilled about the idea of swimming in the muck. Still, she attempted to put on a cheerful face. "I did, but Jay's right. We should get over to the hotel and check in, or they'll charge our credit card, and we'd rather pay cash. Right, Paul? "Huh?" Paul looked like a little boy who longed to be set loose at Disney Land. "Oh yeah, sure. Gotta get checked in, Mom." Claudia nodded curtly. "Fine. Just give me a holler when you get back, then, and I'll introduce you around to everyone. Do you think you'll be eating supper here?" she added tartly. "Of course we will." Paul climbed behind the steering wheel of the truck. "Michelle, do you want to head to the rec building with me? You can get to
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know Rick's wife while he and I take care of this desk." She answered in the affirmative and climbed aboard the truck beside her husband, but Michelle could hardly hide her discomfort. She could see it all now, knew just how the weekend would play out. Paul would be the center of everyone's attention — and utterly distracted from her — and she'd be left alone to deal with her mother-in-law. And anyone could see that Claudia was p.o.'d already. Oh yeah. This reunion was sure to be a laugh a minute. The drive up the hill was short and she offered to stay in the truck while Paul and his dad got the dresser transferred to his cousin's pick-up. Her husband, however, would hear nothing of the sort. "Honey, it's too hot for you to sit out here in the truck for what could take half-an-hour. I know the rec building's at least got fans, so you'll be a lot more comfortable in there. And besides, I just know you'll love Rick's wife. She's from Spain…came here as an exchange student and winded up falling in love with Rick — but not before I took her to the prom. Remember I told you about her, and how we all went to school together? She's a great lady. You'll like her a lot." Feeling hot, cranky and anything but friendly, Michelle was never the less dragged into the rec building. A sea of faces turned toward the open door and the newest addition to the family felt like a specimen under a microscope. Then voices were calling out and strangers, young and old alike, were hugging both her and her husband. Something of her reserve slipped away and, though she knew she'd never remember all the names to go with the faces, she realized that Paul might be right. On a whole, the Zook family seemed to be made up of friendly people. Perhaps the only one who despised her was Claudia.
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She vaguely remembered Rick from one of their photo albums, and his easy manner set her at ease. "So this is the lady that stole my cousin's heart, eh?" He elbowed Paul in the ribs. "We all knew she'd have to be something pretty special to convince him to be anything but a bachelor for the rest of his life." Michelle blushed hotly at the compliment. She'd never thought of herself as pretty, but with her husband's arm about her waist and his cousin paying her compliments, it was easy to feel more confident. Then a young woman, tall and thin with long, black hair held out her hand. "I'm Belinda, Rick's wife." A friendly smile revealed gleaming white teeth in a strikingly beautiful face. "It's so good to finally meet you, Michelle. I'm sorry we weren't able to make the wedding." Michelle's momentary boost of self-confidence faded at the sight of Paul's former girlfriend. Belinda wasn't just beautiful. She was drop-dead gorgeous! With her dark olive skin and shining black eyes, Rick's wife exuded confidence backed up by a rare beauty. "Oh, don't worry about it," Michelle mumbled, looking down at her rumpled shorts and the little spots of Coke that had sprayed across her white blouse an hour ago. How could she ever compare to this woman? "Do you play euchre?" Belinda had somehow linked arms with her and was maneuvering her toward a long table, where groups of four concentrated on their cards. "Paul's tried to teach me." Michelle looked back over her shoulder just in time to see him leave the building with Rick. "But I'm really not very good." Belinda laughed gently. "Good. I'm not either. Maybe we can partner up and play somebody equally lousy. What do you think?"
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Michelle turned back toward the woman she'd just met. For a moment, she entertained the thought of refusing, but then she glanced at the unfamiliar faces and decided to stick with Belinda. At least she seemed friendly enough, and Michelle knew she'd be unlikely to forget the name of this particular cousin. Might just as well make the best of the situation, even if she did end up making a fool of herself at cards. ______________ "Here you are." Paul's hand on her shoulder startled a giggling Michelle. He looked from her to Belinda, and glanced at the sets of fours and sixes used to keep score in a euchre game. A slow grin spread across his face and he directed his next comment to the teenage boy sitting to his wife's right. "Andy, do you mean to tell me that you're letting these ladies beat up on you? Or are you guys just playing nice 'cause they're the prettiest girls here?" Andy shook his head and, pitching his voice to carry across the room, said, "Are you kidding me? They've beaten us almost every hand. I don't know about my partner, but I've only stuck around 'cause I'd rather be wupped up on by a couple of nice looking ladies than Uncle Mike and Bill. At least your wife…and Rick's…are easier on the eyes!" Michelle blushed as laughter rang out around the room. "Are you all done?" she asked her husband quietly. "Ready to check in?" "Yep. But go ahead and finish the hand. You've only got…what…two points to go?" "Yeah, and they're ours." Belinda grinned and placed her last two cards face up on the table. Two jacks, one of hearts and the other of diamonds, proclaimed the game at an end. "Man, you two have all the luck," Andy muttered. "Good thing you're taking this card shark
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away for a while, Paul, or I'd be feeling like a real idiot. But don't keep her too long. She's gonna be my partner next." Paul helped his wife up from her seat and Rick pulled Belinda from her chair to follow them out to the truck. "You'll think about that job, right cous'?" Rick's comment caught Michelle off guard and she gave her husband a quizzical look as he helped her into the truck. "Yeah, I will." Paul smiled at his wife. "I'll tell ya later, babe," he said as he shut her door. Hurrying around the front of the truck, he called out to Rick and Belinda, "Save us a seat at supper and we'll talk about it then. 'Kay?" "Will do." The truck bumped back down the winding gravel drive and Michelle glanced out her window to see Jay leaning over Claudia, whispering in her ear. Maybe the reunion would be fun. She'd gotten the hang of euchre and everybody seemed nice. Now, if only she could stay out of her mother-in-law's way, maybe this wouldn't be such a bad weekend after all. ______________ Jay Zook had chosen to walk down the hill, rather than ride with his son and daughter -in-law, because he needed some time to think. Ever since Paul had announced that he and Michelle would be staying the weekend in a motel, Claudia had been sullen and less than kind to their daughter-in-law. Despite the fact that he'd spanked her, her behavior today had made it clear that her attitude toward Michelle had not changed. Much as he hated the thought, he was going to have to do something to get his wife in hand before she said something that she'd regret.
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She was sitting in a circle of lawn chairs with several of the other women her age, her voice carrying in the clearing despite the fact that she had her back towards him. "Oh, she's okay, I guess," he heard his wife remark. "But she knows nothing about family, and how important these things are. Her parents were divorced, you know." Jay's jaw tightened when he heard the words. It was with a concentrated effort that he schooled his features and walked up to lay a quiet hand on his wife's shoulder. "Claudia, I'd like to take a walk. Come with me, please." She might have jumped a mile, had gravity not held her down. The guilty expression on her face condemned her more than her words had, but she managed a weak smile and shrugged away his hand. "I'm too hot to walk, honey. You go on without me." Jay squared his shoulders and squatted down by his wife's chair. The other ladies, suddenly aware of the tension between husband and wife, took up a new topic and discreetly directed their attention away from the couple. "Claudia," Jay whispered quietly, "you can either walk with me to someplace nice and private, or we can take this up in the trailer. Which is it going to be?" Claudia's face flamed but she rose from her chair. "I'll be back in a bit," she called over her shoulder. "You know how these men are. Can't do anything by themselves!" She knew, though, that her attempt to cover her apprehension had failed when several of her contemporaries gave her sympathetic glances. "Why didn't you just announce that you were taking me out to the woodshed?" she hissed to the man who was towing her quickly down the path to the woods. "How could you embarrass me like that, Jay?"
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He replied evenly, evidence of his anger obvious in his lethally quiet tone. "How could you sit around and gossip about our daughter-in-law? She's Paul's wife and the mother of our future grandchildren. Do you really want to hurt her that bad; bad enough that you'd risk alienating both of them?" His words stung and Claudia stopped in her tracks to look at her husband. "Who said I wanted to hurt Michelle? I just want her to let Paul be a part of this family; that's all! Can't you see how she's making him choose? He's always loved these reunions and yet he's staying at a hotel because of her!" Taking a firmer grip on her upper arm, Jay continued to guide his wife further into the woods. "So they're staying at a hotel. It's not a big deal, Claudia, but you insist on making it one. I promise you, though, this behavior is going to change — and I mean now!" Just that quickly, Jay took a seat on a large rock and deftly pulled his wife over his knee. She hardly had time to protest before he'd gotten his right hand down the back of her shorts and stripped them, and her panties, down to her knees. Then his hard palm made contact with the lower curve of one unprotected cheek and she began to fight, squirming and pushing up against the muscular forearm that held her pinned down in a most humiliating position. "Ouch! Jay, stop it," she pleaded as his hand took up an all-too-familiar assault against her bared bottom. "Please…someone will hear!" "Well, since it's my family that's taken over this side of the campground," Jay replied, his hand leaving angry red imprints on his wife's backside, "I imagine they'll all know exactly what's going on and to stay away for a while." He tipped her farther forward on his left knee and pinned her churning legs down between his own. "After all, this is a Zook
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family tradition. And lord knows you've been asking for it today!" "Oh! Ouch!" Claudia was still whispering, but her pleas grew more frantic with each stinging smack. How could she have forgotten how bad this hurt, how much she hated even a hand spanking from her husband? "Jay, please stop. I'll be good, I promise." "Yeah, right." He kept right on spanking, peppering her bottom with hard spanks that made her buck and moan despite her best efforts to keep quiet. "I've heard your promises before, young lady, and I'm not going to be so easily swayed this time." He wasn't going to stop! Over her husband's rock-hard thigh, her bottom high and vulnerable to his every whim, Claudia began to feel a bit frantic. She couldn't remember a time when he'd spanked her quite so hard, nor for such a long time. Desperately, she reached a hand back for protection, but she only found herself maneuvered farther forward and then his broad palm was raining down one burning spank after another on her thighs. "Please Jay…please! Not there!" "Move your hand," he growled, never letting up on the relentless rhythm, "and so will I." Finally, when she could no longer bear the sharp smacks to her upper thighs, Claudia allowed her hand to fall limply at her side. Tears worked their way free and fell into the soft, warm moss beneath her face. "I'm sorry." She was, too…sorry that she'd not done a better job of holding her tongue. "Please…please don't spank me any more." A few more smacks caught the undercurve of each cheek, and then his open palm felt cool on her burning derriere. "Are you going to behave yourself?" he asked. "Yes." She let out a shaky breath. It was almost over. "Yes, I promise."
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Predictably, his hand made rapid and repeated contact with her sore bottom. "Are you going to get over this attitude you have towards Michelle?" "Yes." Thankfully he couldn't see, from his vantage point, that she had to grit her teeth to get that promise out. "I'll be extra nice to her. You'll see." "Alright then, this is to help you to remember to keep your promise." Another dozen or so spanks had her crying out, and then Jay lifted his wife up and set her on her feet. Instinctively, she reached back to soothe the burning flesh, but he moved her hands away and quickly pulled up her shorts. "No rubbing, young lady. I want you to think about this spanking for a while." Humiliated, Claudia let her hands fall to her sides. "Yes sir. Jay stood and, pulling his wife into his arms, kissed her gently on the top of her head. "I love you, honey, but I'm not going to allow you to behave like this any more. Michelle is our daughterin-law and that means she's family. And if your family won't love you, then who will?" Claudia shrugged and pulled away from her husband's embrace. "I'll try, Jay. I promise I'll try to get along with her." "That's good," he said as he slid a finger beneath her chin. His gaze was level and unflinching as he forced her to look him in the eyes. "Because if we have to come out here again, you will find yourself cutting a switch, taking your shorts and panties off and getting the switching of your life." He paused and she swallowed hard. "Do I make myself clear, young lady?" "Yes sir." "Good." His hand was gentle in the small of her back as he guided her back the way they'd come. "Now, let's get back to the party."
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______________ "What's this about a job?" Michelle pressed her palm to the roof of the truck in order to keep from bumping her head every time they hit a pothole. "Is Rick looking for something in Ohio?" "No." Paul shrugged nonchalantly, but nothing could hide the excitement in his voice. "Actually, his company's looking for someone in marketing, and he's recommended me. He said I'd probably have a letter from them when I get home." "Oh." Michelle stared out the front window, uncertain of what to say next. "Are you interested? Would it mean moving?" "Actually yeah, I am interested." Paul stopped at the campground exit, turned to look at his wife. "It's more money, Michelle; but better than that, I wouldn't have to travel any more. I know how much you hate me being gone and I kind of figured you wouldn't mind the move so much, if it meant I could be home with you. So yeah, I'd like to look into it." He was quiet for a moment, then finished with, "What do you think, honey?" They turned onto the main road and Michelle stared out the window, lost in quiet contemplation. She did not speak again until they pulled into the hotel parking lot. "I guess it doesn't really bother me, if this is something you want, Paul. But —" She turned to her husband, laid a hand on his thigh. "Don't do it just for me, honey. I don't want you to take this job and then hate it … and resent me … because it's not the right thing for you." They both clambered out of the truck and Paul grabbed the suitcase. But as he rounded the front bumper, he let the bag slide to the ground while his pulled his wife into a tight embrace. "Thank you, honey. That makes things easier for me."
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Michelle smiled up at her husband and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Then, smiling playfully, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and gave it a gentle tug. "So, now that I know about the job, we need to have a talk about Belinda. I knew you'd dated, but why didn't you tell me she was such a knock-out?" Paul chuckled and claimed his wife's mouth with a lingering passion. His hands moved down to cup her bottom and he pulled away from the kiss just long enough to growl, "Watch it, woman. If this is going to turn into another of your put-yourselfdown sessions, you can just rethink it right this minute. Understood?" Michelle nodded and pulled her husband's face to hers again. When at last they emerged for air, she wore a playful smile on her face. "I suppose you've brought that old hairbrush, eh?" "Damn right. I'm a man with a brush and I know how to use it. And besides —" Paul kissed his wife, then bent to retrieve the suitcase. "You're the only knock-out for me." ______________ Claudia did not want to go back to the trailer, nor was she eager to rejoin her friends following the humiliating way in which her husband had summoned her on a walk. These Zooks … really her husband's relatives … were an old-fashioned family with old-fashioned values. How could she possibly go back to face her sister-in-laws and their cousins, knowing that every one of them would be speculating as to how hard she'd gotten it, and whether or not she was sitting comfortably? Paul held her hand, though, propelling her along by the sheer force of his own forward momentum, and they soon stepped out of the woods and into the circle of trailers and tents. One look at the group
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she'd gossiped with earlier, and she made up her mind to lay low for a while. "I think I'm going to lay down in the trailer for a while, Jay." Her cheeks were tinged an embarrassed pink. "I'm tired." "Tired," Jay questioned, "or just pouting? Because if that's the case I can march you right back to our little spot and help you move past that particular attitude." Stomach alive with nervous butterflies, Claudia looked away from her husband's direct gaze. "Okay, I'm sorry. But you don't have to spank me again, really. I'll stop pouting." "You'd better." Jay headed his wife in the direction of the chattering women and gave her an undisguised swat that sent her on her way. "Go on. You might as well face them now. Waiting won't make it any easier." He was right, of course, and Claudia managed to join the group despite her initial embarrassment. If there was one thing the Zook women understood, it was how it felt to be put over a knee for an oldfashioned spanking. No one said much, but she knew that these women commiserated with her plight. ______________ Two hours after they'd checked in, Paul and Michelle left the hotel, hand in hand. The youngest Mrs. Zook's bottom was comfortably warm, the result of a slow and languorous "just for fun" spanking that had brought her to the first of several climaxes. In the truck, she slid over to the center seat, buckled herself in, and laid her head on her husband's shoulder. "I'm sorry I made such a fuss about coming out here," she murmured. "I like Rick and Belinda, and everyone else's been really nice to me."
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Paul squeezed her knee, then let his hand slide up the inside of her thigh. "It's okay, babe. I'm just glad you're having a good time." She might have continued to have a good time, too, had it not been for the job offer Paul was considering. Saturday evening passed easily enough, but at lunch the next day, Claudia was walking by with a plate full of food when Paul asked, "Will they want a hard copy of my resume, Rick, or is it okay just to e-mail it?" Rick didn't get the chance to answer, because Claudia set her plate down beside his with a meaningful thump. Her mother's heart was pounding a mile a minute. Surely her only son couldn't be thinking of moving away. "What's this about resumes?" It was a simple enough question, but there was an undeniable note of tension in her voice. "Oh…Mom." Paul looked chagrined. He hadn't noticed his mother weaving her way between the large, round tables. Had he seen her nearby, he never would have spoken up, but it was too late now. The cat was out of the bag, and he knew she wouldn't be pleased. "Rick's company is looking for a marketing exec. He's recommended me." Claudia set her fork down, all pretenses gone. How could she possibly pretend to care about food when her son was thinking about moving away from home? "You're thinking of moving out here?" Paul shrugged and next to him, Michelle concentrated on her food. "Yeah, Mom, Indiana's where the job is. But it's only a few hours drive. It's no big deal." "No big deal? You'd be moving out of state! That's a huge decision, and not one you should make without consulting," she looked past her son to his wife, "your family."
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"Of course I wouldn't, Mom. But there's no harm in looking into it. I travel and awful lot now and I'd really like to be home more." "Well, I don't see how being here is going to help with that problem? And besides, who will help your dad with the horses and such?" "Aww, c'mon Mom." Paul's voice took on a wheedling tone, like that of a child told to stay away from the cookie jar. "Dad doesn't really need my help." Michelle had so far kept quiet, feeling it best to stay out of this fight and let her husband handle it. But this…this was more than she could take. Paul was her husband, yet his mother treated him like a little boy. Worse yet, she could hear him caving in already. He loved his parents and didn't want to hurt them, and that was good, but only to a certain extent. If he started letting his mother make the decisions for them, their marriage would be doomed. Under the table, she reached over to squeeze her husband's knee, all the while giving her mother-in-law a direct gaze. "We have only just begun to talk this over," she told Claudia. "We don't even know if the company will be that interested in Paul, but if they are, then he needs to make the decision that's right for him." At that moment, any meager amount of caution that Claudia might have still grappled with took flight. "You mean, he needs to make the decision that you want, don't you? Everybody knows that Paul loves his home and wouldn't even be considering a move if it weren't for you." Her voice was rising and several heads turned, but she only continued her tirade. "Well, just because your parents were divorced and you grew up bouncing from one to the other doesn't mean that you can marry my son and start him pin-balling around the country. This is all your fault!"
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For a moment, Michelle was simply too stunned to speak. Then she pushed away from the table with an angry scrape that focused the entire room's attention on their table. "Listen to me, you old biddy! Number one, this isn't my fault. Number two, moving is looking pretty damn good to me right now. And number three, you can't keep Paul tied to your apron strings forever." She threw down the fork in her hand, sent it clattering off her plate to skid across the table. "At least not if he wants to stay married to me." Then, spinning on her heel, she strode across the room and banged out through the screen door. "Mom!" Stunned, Paul watched his wife's retreating form before standing to shove back his own chair. He'd known there were problems between his mother and wife; yet somehow, he'd been unable to picture his mother as guilty of starting the arguments. Now, with a sudden clarity, he saw how wrong he'd been to lay all the blame on Michelle. "How dare you talk to my wife like that? 'Chelle didn't even know about this until yesterday, and the only thing she's said is that she'll support my decision either way. Moving…getting a job that doesn't require a bunch of travel…was my idea, not hers. Now look what you've done." "It's okay, son." Jay Zook walked up behind Paul, laid a hand on his shoulder. "You just go on and talk to your wife, and I'll take care of things here." Paul turned to look at his dad. There was something calming in the man's presence and he nodded once. "Thanks. I'll do that." A buzz of conversation was beginning to fill the dining hall again as Paul left the building. But at the table where he'd been sitting, there was no mistaking the anger in Jay's eyes as he hauled his wife to her feet.
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"Outside. Now," he hissed and Claudia's face flamed an undignified shade of red. "Unless you want to do this right here, right now." Claudia shook her head silently and all but bolted to the door. Damn, how could she have been so careless? It felt like a million eyes bored into her back as she made her way outside, an angry husband right behind her. The walk to the forest was rather unpleasant, as Jay practically dragged her down the path. Nearly a foot shorter than her husband, Claudia had always had a difficult time keeping up with him when they walked together. Today, that height difference, combined with the anger in his strides, had her running in order to keep from losing her footing on the dirt path. In no time at all, she was being unceremoniously plunked down on the same rock Jay had sat on the night before. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Swiss Army knife, which he dropped into her lap. "Cut the switch and wait for me here. I need to cool down before I deal with you." For the first time since they'd left the potluck, he looked her directly in the eyes. "And believe me, you do not want to try running off or hiding. If I have to come looking for you, it'll be that much worse and you'll get it on the spot, no matter who's around. Understand me?" Claudia nodded jerkily, tears stinging her eyes, and watched her husband walk further down the path toward the lake. The moment he was out of sight, the damn broke and hot tears trickled down her cheeks. She couldn't remember a time when she'd seen him so angry. It was that fury, and knowing how much she'd hurt both him and her son and daughter-in-law that moved her from the rock to choose a long, wicked-looking hickory switch. Tears blurred her vision as she worked the knife through the limber, green rod, then compared the diameter against that of her thumb. The flesh of her
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bottom came alive, tingling and sensitive to every movement as she sat down and began to peel away the outer layer of bark. Jay had never switched her, but her mother had…plenty of times during her growing up years…so she knew how to choose a switch of the appropriate weight. Finally, skimming the rest of the bark off, she tested the flexibility of the rod by slicing it through the air, wincing and shivering at the whining sound that it made. This was going to be bad but, worst of all, she knew she deserved it. It seemed forever that she waited, but not nearly long enough when her husband finally reappeared. The fury was gone from his eyes, replaced by a firm resolve tinged by sadness. Silently, she stood and unbuttoned her shorts. Might just as well have it over with. "Wait a minute." Jay sat on the rock and pulled his wife to stand between his legs. "I have something I need to say first." She nodded, eyes downcast. She remembered the feel of the switch in her hand, peeled down to the diameter of her index finger, and shuddered at the thought of it biting into her bottom and thighs. Oh no, her thighs! She could recall a few switchings that she'd gotten during her high school years, and how the marks had lingered for days. Back then, though, slacks weren't an option for girls, so she'd simply had to live with the humiliation of the red stripes that showed with every moment of her knee-length skirts. But today, dressed in khaki shorts and a tank top, she'd not have even that much protection from embarrassment. A tear stole down her cheek as her husband began to speak. "I'm sorry," he said, "for losing my temper with you. I've never spanked you in anger, Claudia, and I want you to know that this time is no different. Understand?" She nodded numbly. "Yes, Jay…sir. Thank you."
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"I am going to spank you, though…and spank you hard. Do you know why?" "Yes, sir." "Tell me." She swiped at the tears that had already touched her cheeks. "I behaved terribly to Michelle. I may have alienated her from us forever. I deserve to be punished." Jay nodded grimly. "Yes, you do deserve it. And believe me, I'm not going to stop until I'm sure you've paid for your behavior and learned not to repeat it. But —" He tipped up her chin and held her eyes with his. "I doubt this is irreversible. Paul…and his bride…they're good kids. They'll find a way to forgive, I'm sure." Claudia's eyes filled with tears. "I hope so," she murmured as Jay pulled her against his chest for a gentle embrace and a fleeting kiss on the head. "I know you do," he replied. "Now, I think we'd best get this over with." He let go of her, allowed her to step back, then deftly turned her and brought the switch whistling down to fall just above the hem of her shorts. This he did several times while she shifted, surprised, from foot to foot; then he lifted the hem to take a look at the red marks that she bore, despite the material that had protected her flesh. "So I know how far down to go," he explained to the confused-looking woman. "You can take them off now…and the panties…and lay them here on the rock." The memory of those few strokes burning into her skin, Claudia reluctantly removed the only thing that had come between her and the switch. Of course she was grateful that he didn't intend to leave marks that would be seen by the others, but she still dreaded what was to come. Carefully, she folded the shorts and laid them, and the panties, on the rock.
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"Okay, over there," Jay said, pointing the switch in the direction of a tall oak. "Put your palms flat against the trunk and then take two steps back, so your legs are in a good position." He watched his wife carefully then, satisfied with her position, moved to stand behind and to her left. Carefully, he measured the switch against his target and adjusted his stance. "Stay in position, please," he commanded as he drew back his arm for the first stroke. Thwipp. The limber rod shot a burning message straight to her brain and Claudia drew in a sharp breath. Damn, it hurt so bad. How would she ever survive? Thwipp. Thwipp. The sharp sting penetrated her bottom, then her upper thighs, and already she had to fight the urge to dance away from the punishing bit of wood. The moment she attempted to move, though, Jay's warm hand pressed into the small of her back. "Claudia, please," he said, and his words made her heart ache, "Please don't make this any worse than it has to be." "I'll try," she whispered through her tears. Try she did, though it was not long before Jay had to wrap his left arm around her waist and pin her, dangling, against his hip in order to keep her still. She moaned and writhed, one foot or the other kicking out with every stroke of the switch, but still he continued to apply the rod to her bottom and upper thighs. Hanging by the waist, her face even with the back of his knee, she cried out as lines of white-hot fire scored her burning flesh. "I am very disappointed in you, young lady," Jay lectured to the tune of the hickory stick. "I warned you what would happen if you kept up with this behavior toward our daughter-in-law, didn't I?"
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"Yes…yes!" Claudia reached out and took hold of her husband's leg as the switch thwicked fire into her upper thighs. "Jay, please…I'm so sorry!" "I'd imagine you are," he replied evenly. "You're going to be a heck of a lot sorrier, though, before I'm through." "No!" Her self-control was slipping, her voice rising to ring through the clearing. "Please Jay…I've had enough! I'll be good now!" He paused, traced one raised, red line with his index finger. "That's for me to decide. What I need, though, is a better look." He moved then, carried her face down, until he found a log just the right height to place his left foot on. Then, shifting her weight onto his left thigh, he eased her forward and studied his handiwork. Two dozen or more angry welts criss-crossed her bottom and thighs, red turning to purple everywhere that the lines converged or crossed over one another. "You're getting there," he announced as he raised his arm again. "Only a little bit more to go." The break had provided Claudia with just enough time to gain that hypersensitivity common after the first round of a hard spanking. This time, when the switch fell, she howled, "Noooo!" "Yes, I'm afraid so," Jay said as he began to concentrate on the ultra-sensitive crease between buttocks and thighs. "I need you to learn this lesson, honey. We all do." "I have! I will!" She kicked out wildly as the switch assaulted her sit spot and the more sensitive flesh normally protected by her tightly closed legs. "Jay, please!" Choking on sobs, she could say no more. All she could do was hurt…and weep. Feeling the fight go out of his wife, Jay threw down the switch and waited as she cried out the pain and remorse her actions had caused. Then, when he felt her quiet, he gently helped her to her feet and pulled her into a warm embrace. "I love
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you, Claudia…way too much to let you keep pushing away the people who are important to you. Do you understand that? Do you realize that's why I had to do this? Because I couldn't let you continue on in self-destruct mode?" She nodded into his shirtfront. "Yes sir…and thank you. I couldn't seem to control myself and, if you hadn't brought me out here, I probably would have gone after them and just made it worse." "I know." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "And I couldn't let you do that. But now we are going to have to find the kids. You need to apologize. You know that, right?" She nodded and reached for her clothing. It was hell pulling the panties up over welted flesh, but she managed it. At last, having put herself back together, she turned to her husband. "We'd best get going." They walked back slowly this time, talking as they did about the child they'd raised and how much they would miss him…and Michelle…if they moved. But Indy wasn't really that far, Jay assured Claudia, and there would be plenty of visits back and forth. For now, they just had to have faith in their son. The campground was busy when they got back, but a quick search failed to turn up Paul and Michelle. Finally they managed to locate Rick, who murmured something about having said good -bye to his cousin. "You mean they've gone back to the hotel?" Claudia asked, embarrassed. "No, I don't think so," Rick replied. "Actually, I think they went home." Claudia turned away, utterly defeated. She'd made an enemy of her daughter -in-law, and hurt her son in the process. The switching had been an effective punishment and had worked a change in her heart, but there would still be a lot of making up
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to do when they got home. She only hoped the kids would be willing to give her another chance.
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Chapter Eight "Paul, where are you with that box? I told you there was one in the spare room!" Michelle Zook sat in the middle of the living room floor, barely visible amongst cardboard boxes, sheets of old newspaper and a parade of porcelain figurines that she was carefully double wrapping. "Hurry up. My legs are falling asleep!" "So get up and move around a little." Looking less than patient, Paul set an empty box down on the sofa and struggled to lift the one his wife had just packed. "What the heck did you put in here? Lead?" "Of course not; it's porcelain. And be careful — I don't want any of those broken." He stopped, shifting the weight of the box in order to hold it more securely. There was nothing pacifying in his tone, however, when he said, "I'm not the only one who'd better be careful, young lady. I've had just about all I'm going to take of that attitude of yours." Michelle opened her mouth, a retort on her tongue, but the look on her husband's face made her jaw snap shut. Then, without warning, tears filled her eyes, spilled over onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry, honey. I don't know what's wrong with me today." "C'mere, babe." Paul slid the box carefully to the floor and offered his wife a hand up. Gently he maneuvered her through the maze of cardboard and packing tape to a vacant spot on the sofa, then pulled her down to sit on his lap. "My guess is
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you're stressed out about the move, not to mention hungry. When was the last time you ate something?" "I don't know," she said with a weary shrug. "I had a donut about 9:30, I think." "And?" "And that's it. Except for a diet pop when my head started hurting, I guess I haven't eaten anything." Paul's lips formed a thin line of disapproval. "Nothing, young lady? Why didn't you eat that sandwich I brought back from the Tastee Freeze. Hmmmm? When I stuck it in the microwave, you promised me you'd be right out to get it. Are you telling me you skipped lunch?" She nodded her head, belatedly realizing that she'd just admitted to breaking one of her husband's cardinal rules. "I didn't do it on purpose, honey. I just forgot." With a curt nod, Paul set his wife on her feet. "Get out there and eat," he growled, "before I forget that you're probably feeling way too lousy to be spanked…just now." His hand bounced off the seat of her thin cotton shorts with a resounding crack. "And don't go getting your hopes up, 'Chelle. We'll address this later. Am I clear?" "Yes, sir." Her stomach turning over in nervous anticipation, Michelle nodded and made her way through the mover's maze to the kitchen. Normally, she might have been tempted to argue with her husband about a forthcoming spanking, but she hadn't even the heart for that today. And besides, with everything turned topsy-turvy in their lives, there was something oddly comforting in the knowledge that the rules would still be enforced. The kitchen sported yet more disarray, but Paul had left the microwave plugged in. By moving a naked spice rack and a box of canned goods to the
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floor, Michelle carved out a bit of space in which to set down her warmed over burger and soggy french fries. The food hardly looked appetizing, but she knew better than to turn her nose up at it now. Given her history of crash dieting, Paul had long since made it clear that he expected her to eat right — and that meant skipping meals was strictly forbidden. Oh yeah, she'd be feeling the reinforcing weight of the paddle tonight, and it wasn't an experience she looked forward to. It was that thought that took her suddenly by surprise. She wasn't looking forward to this spanking — did not, in fact, desire any but the sensual bottom-warmings that had become a frequent part of their lovemaking — and that, she'd been assured, was true progress. She no longer acted out to get her husband's attention, no longer felt a need to test his resolve. The fear that he would abandon their new lifestyle had diminished over the months, and she felt a new confidence and safety in his embrace. So why was she on the warpath today? She could hardly find the answer to that question herself; expecting Paul to do so was simply ridiculous. However, looking back over the last few days, she had to admit that she'd been making them both miserable, waiting for her husband to identify and fix the problem, despite her own confusion as to the origin of her feelings. It wasn't fair to him — she knew that — and yet she felt helpless to stop herself. Was it the move, perhaps, that had set her on her ear; or was there something more? Certainly she should be happy. Paul had accepted the job in Indiana; a job that would pay him more and make business trips a thing of the past. In addition, her mother-in-law had apologized for her outburst at the reunion and was making every effort to accept the move gracefully. Michelle had heard, of course,
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about Claudia's not-so-secret trip into the woods; the look of regret on her mother-in-law's face the day she'd come to apologize was one of genuine contrition brought about by a husband's firm hand. Something between them had changed then; they knew a new camaraderie formed by mutual sympathy from one spanked wife to the other. "There's nothing to whine about," Michelle told herself fiercely. "Everything is going great." Still, something inside her remained unconvinced. It couldn't be the diaries, of course. She'd begun reading Grandma Anna's journals almost a year ago, in an effort to better understand the role of spanking in a marriage. Obviously she knew that Anna Berlitz-Zook had long since passed away. After all, were she still alive, she'd be approximately 200 years old by now. Somehow, though, the final entry in Anna's last diary had taken her by surprise. Her thoughts drawn again to Anna's life, she reached into the box containing the old family documents and pulled out the last of a lifetime's worth of recorded thoughts. Reality mingled with dreams, hope and despair warred across the binding of the smallish book, and Michelle lost herself, once again, in the final thoughts and feelings set to paper by Anna Zook. April 23, 1863 Much to my surprise, Johannes and Elizabeth arrived at our doorstep this very evening, looking quite worn and bedraggled. It had been some time since Joseph and I had heard from the children, for little correspondence can be delivered in the midst of this terrible upheaval betwixt North and South. You can imagine my shock, then, when I learned that their house had been burned to the ground during the Confederate raids in October of last year. It is only by God's grace and the kindness of neighbors that they survived the winter and now
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stood upon our doorstep, in need of food and shelter. Despite the circumstances, I must admit gladness of heart in seeing once again young Stephen, who slept upon his father's shoulder. He will turn three soon and, though shy at first, proved to be quite a personable child once settled by the fire with biscuits and warm milk to ease his hunger. For a brief hour or so, it seemed as though a time of rejoicing was upon us, for we had our children and grandchild safe within our home. In addition, it was soon quite obvious that Elizabeth carried a second child, one that she believes will arrive in August of this year. Even though the outside world is bleak with war and death, I was happy of heart to have my family about me again and pledged to help my good daughter in every possible way. It was then that Johannes admitted to a most foolhardy action, one that I vehemently protested. My son, raised to be a lover of peace, has enlisted in the Union Army! I could scarce believe it, and yet he has already made plans to join them a few short days from now. What is to become of him, of his wife and children? Can he not see the sin in taking up arms against another? Though I agree in principle that slavery must be abolished, I do not understand how the shedding of blood will accomplish this feat. And with so many already lost, how much longer can the government push ahead, hoping to bend the Southern states to the will of our politicians. I was naturally quite upset by my son's announcement, but Joseph quickly reminded me that Johannes is a grown man and must make his own decisions. Elizabeth did not look any more inclined to agree with her husband than did I, but we left the children to discuss their differences in private.
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Joseph is quite angry with me, though I believe he, too, worries for Johannes's safety. Still, my husband has promised to take the strap to me, should there be any further outbursts. I only hope I can hold my tongue, all the while praying that the good Lord will show my son the error of his ways. Michelle fingered the worn pages of the journal with care, nearly brought to tears herself at the sight of words blurred by tears of the writer. Johannes had, in fact, left his wife and son in the care of his parents and joined the Union army. An entry a short while later revealed the turbulent nature of his mother's emotions as she worried for him. May 17, 1863 Tonight, I write with a heart filled with sorrow and fear, yet the confidence of a woman reassured by her husband. I have been somewhat of a temper lately, a fact that has not gone unnoticed by my husband. This eve, I went so far as to scold young Stephen for tracking mud into the kitchen. I behaved abominably, the dear child cried as though his heart had been broken, and Joseph — having comforted the boy and sent him to his mother with a sweet and a kiss goodnight — declared that he had tolerated quite enough of my 'nonsense.' Much to my chagrin, I was then marched directly to the woodshed, where my husband wasted no time in lifting my skirts and loosening the strings on my drawers, so that they fell about my feet in a most untidy heap. I began to cry immediately, both in embarrassment and in fear of the strapping I expected to follow. I was therefore quite surprised when Joseph seated himself upon a heap of grain sacks and pulled me over his knee — setting in to spank me in the manner of an errant child rather than a disagreeable wife. And though he lectured
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concerning my duty as the older of two women in the house, and as a grandmother to young Stephen, I know that he stayed his strength considerably. Still, I cried, more from sheer exhaustion and my fear — formed in part by gruesome imaginings — than from the pain of his hand upon my bum. But even as he proceeded to punish me, he spoke in a gentle manner, his lecture turning to words of encouragement concerning our son's safety. His mention of Johannes brought about a new flood of tears and, very soon, I was sitting upright in his lap, his tears mingling with my own. Joseph did not send me to the corner, as is his custom, but instead spent a great deal of time whispering words of reassurance and love. I realize now that worry has plagued him as well, and I intend to keep a tighter rein on my own tongue, so as not to cause my husband any more undue difficulties. Now perhaps you see what is in my heart. I fear for Johannes, and am filled with sorrow at the great losses which incur daily due to the war between the states, yet I thank God for the comfort of my gentle husband. Michelle laid the book down and brushed away tears of sympathy and of need. There was something in Anna's words that left her hungry for a measure of that same comfort, though she could claim no great war as the reason for her own inner turmoil. Just as Grandma Anna had been out of sorts until taken in hand by her husband, the latest Mrs. Zook feared that she would be unable to gain control of her own muddled emotions. If only Paul would realize what she needed. Tears blurred the pages of the journal and she was crying freely by the time she had read through the journal to the next-to -last entry. June 21, 1863
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I write this with hurried hand, having learned just hours ago that Johannes has been injured. A representative of the Union Army states that nursing care is badly needed, and Joseph has agreed that we should travel west to meet up with the encampment of injured men. Elizabeth wishes to go, but it is far too close to her time of confinement for her to risk the trip, so she will stay with the minister and his wife until we return. We can only pray that we will arrive in time to be of help to our son. It was there, quite abruptly, that Anna's journal entries stopped. There was one more record though, written in a different hand, and much smeared by teardrops. July 7, 1863 It is with great sorrow that I make note of the death of Anna Berlitz-Zook on the sixth day of July, in the year of our Lord 1863. While attempting to escape the chaos of Gettysburg, she was thrown from the wagon in which we carried Johannes home. She did not appear badly hurt, complaining only of a headache from her fall, but shortly after we arrived home, she suffered a sudden apoplexy from which she never awakened. She drew her last breath in the night, and I awoke this morning to find that she had passed from this world into the presence of our Lord. I take comfort in the fact that my wife saw our son safely home and went in peace, knowing that Johannes would recover from his wounds. Since our arrival, word has spread that nearly 50,000 men were killed on the very day that my wife suffered her injury. 50,000 dead, but they were soldiers, not innocent women. I am much grieved by the loss of my wife, a woman of great strength and beauty. I pray that God will ease her soul into heaven and keep her there safe, until that day in which I shall join her.
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Her loving husband, Joseph Zook Hands shaking, Michelle laid the last journal carefully aside. This was ridiculous, of course — this intense mourning for a woman she'd never met and had always known was dead — yet she could not help the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Why did it feel like everything in her life was falling apart? "Michelle? Babe, what's wrong?" She started at the sound of Paul's voice, vainly attempted to dry her tears before turning to him. "I…I'm fine. I just was reading and —" Her effort to hide her emotions dissolved like sugar in hot tea. "Just don't worry about it, okay," she snapped. "It's silly. I just need to be alone for a while." With that she pushed away from the table and focused her attention on taping up the boxes that sat, open, on the floor. She could feel her husband's presence, knew he watched her, but felt completely incapable of explaining her actions to him. Damn it, if he couldn't see what she needed, she sure wasn't going to beg him for it! Angrily she stretched packing tape across the lid of the cardboard box, cursing when it twisted into an unmanageable lump. She felt his hand on her arm, firm and unyielding, but by then it was too late to recall the words that had so easily rolled off her tongue. Stumbling through the living room behind Paul, she belatedly realized just how much trouble she'd gotten herself into. As if skipping a meal and snapping at him hadn't been enough, she'd just used several of the words that he'd threatened to wash out her mouth for. More tears stung her eyes, pooled on her lashes before running in rivulets down her cheeks, as she followed her husband into the bedroom where he shut and locked the door. Where she'd expected fury, however, there was a patience that she'd not guessed he could show. Instead of
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bending her over the footboard for a dose of his belt, Paul sat on the cedar chest and pulled his wife down into his lap. "Okay, 'Chelle," he murmured as he rubbed her back. "You want to tell me what this is all about?" He slid a finger beneath her chin and lifted her tearstained face to his. "Honey, are you upset that we're moving? You know, I never would have taken the job if I'd thought you didn't want this, too." She shook her head, knuckled tears away from her eyes. "No. I'm happy about the move Paul. Really." He couldn't help but chuckle at that comment, for she was currently the very picture of misery incarnate. "Then what's the problem? I don't get why you're so upset with me." "With you? Oh no, Paul, I'm not upset with you." "Then what's going on? 'Chelle, I can't help you if you won't talk to me." She shrugged, allowed her head to rest briefly against his shoulder. "I don't know. That is, I'm not sure that I can put a word to this feeling. I just … I just hurt. I'm pissed at the world, and I know that's not fair to you, but its just how I feel. I can't change it." "Hmmm." Paul held his wife at arm's length, taking time to look over her disheveled appearance. Dark circles lurked beneath her eyes and she sat, shoulders slumped, in his lap. "Honey, you're exhausted," he said at length. "I think the best thing right now is to get you into bed before you fall asleep right where you are." He'd expected gratitude, or at the very least compliance. What he got instead had him gritting his teeth to keep from losing his temper. "Paul, I can't go to sleep. Damn it, there are a million things to do and nobody but me to do them!" She elbowed her way off his lap, nearly had the door unlocked before he could wrap a
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restraining arm around her waist. "Let me go. I've got work to do!" "Oh no you don't." The sharp nails that raked his arm became the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Out of patience, he hauled his wife back to the cedar chest, maneuvered her over his knee, and set himself to the task of blistering her bottom. Lucky for him, she'd tossed her hairbrush on the bed and conveniently within reach. The moment his hand tired, he reached for what doubled as an especially effective implement of correction, barely missing a beat in the switch from flesh to hard wood. "Ow!" Already fighting like a cornered animal, Michelle howled the moment the brush began to inflict it's tormenting ovals of red-hot pain on her bottom. "Damn it, Paul, you let me up! This isn't fair." "Fair?" He mulled over the word, all the while snapping the brush down hard on her shortscovered bottom. "Is it fair for you to cuss me out for trying to help you? Is it fair for you to claw at me like one of Dad's barn cats just because I suggest you rest?" He tipped her farther forward and applied the brush to soft, untouched thighs. "There's nothing fair at all in the way you've been acting today, young lady … and now you're going to pay for your behavior." Slowly, methodically, Paul continued to apply the brush to Michelle's burning tush, stopping only long enough to yank down her shorts and panties before pinning her legs down between his own. She struggled angrily, but when he tipped her farther forward over his left knee and set to work on the sensitive skin between thighs and bottom, something in her gave way. Suddenly, instead of shrieks of anger, she was crying real tears — tears of pain, both emotional and physical. She hardly knew it when he stopped spanking, but continued to
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sob long after the last stroke of the brush had fallen across her throbbing backside. He rubbed her back in gentle, soothing circles until she'd gained some semblance of reason, then asked the question he'd posed earlier. "Honey, what's wrong?" Hanging face down, her nose practically buried in the carpet, Michelle was not certain she'd be able to explain her feelings. Still, fearing further correction, she mustered her thoughts and blurted out, "It's the diaries, Paul! I know it's stupid, but I just can't believe she's dead." His hand stilled and, for long moments, he sat in silence. What diaries? Who was dead? Then her meaning occurred to him and he had to bite his tongue from responding too quickly. She'd finally given him the information he needed. It wouldn't do to make light of it now. Quietly, he lifted her into his lap and held her close while she cried into his shirt. Only when she'd quieted did he address the subject. "Honey," he said quietly, "I'm not sure I understand why this has you so upset. You knew Grandma Anna died a long time ago, right?" Michelle nodded, shamefaced. "I know. It's just … well, I didn't really expect it to be so sudden. I thought she'd maybe died of sickness or old age, Paul. I never would have imagined her to die because of the civil war." Paul rested his chin atop his wife's head thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose it was a shock for you, since I didn't think to tell you how she died. But honey? Surely that can't be the only thing that's troubling you." She shrugged, and he could feel her exhaustion in the way she struggled to sit up in his lap. "No, I guess not. It's just … Paul, I don't know how to explain it, but I just feel all torn up inside. The moving … having to put our stuff in storage until we
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can find something besides the furnished apartment … it all happened so fast and part of me doesn't want to leave this little town. This place is the first real home I ever knew. Heck, I may even miss your mother!" He did smile at that, but hid his amusement by kissing her hair. "Wow, you will be homesick," he teased. She laughed a little as well, but grew serious once more as she said, "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I guess finding out how Anna died made me feel like I'd lost someone very special to me. And what with the move, and all the changes in our life —" She got no further, for Paul tipped her face up and brushed his lips to hers. "It's okay, babe. No apology's necessary. This is a big change for both of us, and I'm a little uncertain myself." He kissed her again, then drew far enough away to look her in the eyes. "And as for Grandma Anna? Well, just look what she's given us, by way of that dowry chest and her journals. She'll never really be dead, you know, so long as this family lives on." Michelle nodded thoughtfully. "I guess you're right about that. After all, who knows where we might have ended up if I hadn't read that first part of her diary a year ago? We really are better off for having known her, even in the limited way we could." "That's right." "And speaking of keeping the family alive…" Paul sat back, a look of speculation on his face. "Michelle, you don't think you're —?" "Not yet," she answered, snuggling in. "But your new job does offer great benefits and I won't have to work outside the home. Maybe … in a few months? What do you think?" He took her mouth deeply this time, tasted the salt of her tears as he rained kisses down her jaw.
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"I think it would be wonderful, honey. You'll make a great mom, I just know it!" ______________ They got no more packing done that night, but finished it up bright and early the next morning. Shortly after lunch, when the moving party had done its job, they stood on the front porch of Paul's childhood home, saying their good-byes to his parents. Michelle and Claudia embraced, each more touched than she had expected, while father and son clasped one another in a powerful hug. The dowry chest, the diaries and their other possessions safe in his parent's storeroom, it was time to go. The future stretched out before them, a lifetime of possibilities magnified by an appreciation of the past. Anna's words had left their indelible mark on yet another generation of Zooks.
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