Paying the Toll By Korey Mae Johnson (Sample)
“Ah, Goddamn it.”
I didn’t even have to open the envelope in my hand. There was no reason that any letter would be coming to me from Ohio. Not an official–looking one, anyway. But the reason for this letter blared across my mind when I saw it.
It simply had to be about that issue of me not paying my bill for using the toll–tag lane, which I’d hidden away somewhere about three months before and had completely forgotten about. The toll was only two dollars, but it was a hassle, to say the least. And I am certainly against tolls.
All Oregonians like me are against tolls. We don’t have tolls in Oregon; none that I know of, at least. That’s why my state invented the gas–tax. The gas–tax is supposed to take care of all the roads, not tolls. Of course, the tolls here in Texas weren’t that high, compared to the East Coast. I had not paid the toll–tickets I received when I was living in Pennsylvania during my recent internship, either. Nothing had come of them. They’d forgotten about me… Maybe because it was a rental car or something…
And so, when I opened the letter and found that Texas had hired a collection agency to collect fifty bucks from me for not paying a two-dollar toll, I was extremely irritated.
I realized it was simply too big of a bill to hide from my brand–new husband, James, who took care of all the bills and accounts. James, the husband that heartily believes in domestic discipline. James, my Texas hunk who was cheap as hell and who did not let me forget to pay tolls.
And man–oh!–man, did I forget. I even scoffed at the second notice and put that right on top of the first to collect dust. And then I had a few months of not thinking about either of them.
I opened the envelope and stared at the $52.50 collector’s agency price, then groaned, wrote a check and put it promptly in the mailbox. I was already going to get a spanking about this, after all, I didn’t want to get a switching for ignoring yet another notice.
I went back to painting the kitchen cabinets, which I had been doing all day. I was already tired. I did what any wife would do who was worried about her husband’s reaction – I cursed myself.
Not literally, of course. Cursing had already been spanked out of me for three months by this point. But I was definitely kicking myself. I was too tired to get a spanking, and I was too responsible of a person to have let this happen. Fifty bucks! We didn’t have fifty bucks to waste.
We were living solely on James’ fellowship money from graduate school, where he was working on his Ph.D in engineering. I didn’t have a job at that time, and we had trouble scraping together enough money for the improvements on the dilapidated house we’d bought the year before.
I had to tell James, for two reasons. First and foremost, I’m absolutely horrible at lying. Secondly, if he found out without me telling him, it would only be worse. Not that I’ve ever had a spanking for lying, but James has warned me that I don’t want to go there. James has told me that getting caught lying to him would mean a switching, because trust is so important in a relationship. I have never been switched, you see, but I have heard it is quite unpleasant from many different sources. And James… Well, James is a hard spanker even without a switch.
When you hear talk in other stories about husbands having hands of wood, you can rest assured that there really are men like that out there. I remember when James and I were snuggling during our first few days of courting. We had met on a spanking personals site, and he’d come up to visit me in Oregon where I was finishing college. He had given me play spankings, and I loved them just as much as I dreamed I would. But when I asked to sample his ‘punishment spanking’, he got three cracks in before I gasped and cried, “Alright, that’s enough! I get it!” After only three spanks with his hand.
I couldn’t help dreading his home–coming. After painting, as if I needed extra penance, I started cleaning the windows that stared out into the driveway. I saw James get dropped off by his best friend, Chris, who waved pleasantly at me before driving away. They had played a round of disc golf after work that day.
I liked seeing Chris. He reminded me that there are wives out there like his that need a spanking way more than I do. His wife is one of the biggest brats imaginable, and he was surely talking about her to James, who only had me, who felt like a horrible wife for completely wasting fifty dollars.
Still, I wasn’t ready for James, who walked in, put down his discs and greeted me with a “Hey, Honey–bunny.” He walked up, closed his arms around me and kissed me on the back of my neck. “You’re so wonderful for doing that,” he told me, gesturing to the spotless windows.
He seemed to know right away that something was amuck, because he gave me an extra squeeze and said, “What’s wrong?”
“Urgh,” I groaned. “I did something really, really dumb,” I began.
“I’m sure it wasn’t dumb,” he soothed, hugging me and rubbing his hand over my bottom.
“No, no. It was dumb,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. I promptly told him about the bill, getting angrier with myself every moment.
He listened, his lips pressed together thoughtfully, but then he just hugged me and kissed my dirty face and said, “That’s okay, Sweetie.” His tone was so sweet that I had a quick, fleeting feeling of hope I wasn’t in for it.
And then my hopes were dashed. He added, “We’ll take a shower and then talk about it afterwards.”
Yeah, right. We had ‘talked’ about a lot of things, but I certainly never recalled my lips moving very much. His paddle does most of the talking, unfortunately. He actually hand–crafted a paddle for my backside when we’d only lived together for a month, and I had thought many times about making sure it visited the burn pile.
“I’m really, really sorry,” I added, hoping that being sorry was enough, and that he didn’t need to do anything to actually make me sorrier.
“I know, Sweetheart. We will talk about it,” he assured me, though not threateningly… Just very matter–of–fact. He took my hand to begin leading me toward the bathroom to shower.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the window. Chris was staring at us with his face about an inch away from those clean windows. “Hi!” he said sheepishly. “I forgot my cellphone!” His voice was so clear, I was certain he had heard what happened and the fact that James said we’d ‘talk’ about it.
I hid my face in my palm as James grabbed the cellphone for Chris. Then, after he was gone, we went to shower together.
There he tried to ask me about my day. The shower was, and still is, our place of solace. Only occasionally does it really become hot and steamy; normally it’s where we can just talk without any distractions.
“I can’t believe I let that happen,” I finally grumped, shampooing my hair twice, finding my own way to get distracted.
He grinned. “I know things like this happen sometimes. I know you have trouble remembering things,” he assured me, and kissed my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. “Don’t worry about it. When we’re done showering, just write up what you did and I will read it. It will be something to put on your blog, anyway. And I’m not clear about what exactly happened.” He was completely enthralled with my domestic discipline blog, which I used to keep back then.
James loves being the head of the household, and had always hoped to find a woman who would want that. We had searched for each other our entire lives. I wanted a man to provide me with domestic discipline and gentle guidance. After breaking up with a boyfriend of five years, I didn’t think James existed. I was logical—a man like him was too good to be true, and I wouldn’t find him.
But he had found me. I was searching around, chatting to others about spanking, and before you know it – I’m being courted. After a couple of weeks of chatting, we started talking on the phone. After a week of that, he bought a plane ticket. Within five weeks of finding each other on the internet, he came up to visit me in Oregon. I graduated and did my publishing internship in Philadelphia, but then left it all to come to Austin on a good hunch.
I mean, where else can you find a cute guy in good shape, genius–level smart, who loves his mother and family, is a good Christian, sympathetic, gentle, loves animals, and wanted a domestic discipline relationship? Also, he didn’t believe in sex before marriage. So, we lived together chastely (to the horror of my parents, who were sure that there was something wrong with him) until we were married that November. He was the least creepy guy imaginable, without a single grotesque bone in his body. Two thousand miles from home had seemed like a short distance to move to for a man like him.
“Isn’t there any way I can talk myself out of a spanking?” I found myself asking.
Don’t get me wrong – I love spankings. I just love fun ones – playful ones, like right before sex or right after church when he’d bend me over his lap and lift up my skirt, just because he loved it when I wore one and loved the spanked–housewife look. Domestic discipline, while it helps with my crippling guilt, is actually quite hard on my poor bottom, which has a very low pain tolerance and bruises easily.
“No, I don’t think there is,” he admitted gently, trying not to upset me. He kissed me again.
My shoulders slumped. I was resigned to my fate.
Discipline in the Back Seat By James Johnson (husband of Korey Mae Johnson)
“People walk by here all the time, somebody will see! Please, stop! James…”
I cut her protests short with another set of firm spanks on her quickly reddening bare bottom. Korey was thoroughly embarrassed to be over my knee in the back seat of our car, getting spanked like a naughty girl in a public parking lot. This was exactly what I was trying to achieve. She was going to learn a lesson this time.
“Young lady, if somebody does walk close by, then they will see what happens to a very naughty young wife. They will see that she gets her bare bottom spanked.”
I was thoroughly enjoying this spanking, and I usually don’t enjoy discipline spankings. That didn’t change the fact Korey had earned every spank, and she was going to be a sorry young lady before I was finished.
Korey and I have been together for almost five years now, and she has been my wonderful wife for the last three and a half of those years. I can honestly say I don’t get tired of spending time with her, and I enjoy her company even more now than I did when we first met. There is only one place where early in our relationship we would frequently irritate one another, and that is when we were in the car together. Korey doesn’t actually want to drive herself; she is not a bad driver but she much prefers to have me do the driving. In order to make it so that we could get along in the car, I made a few rules.
By far the most important rule is that Korey is allowed to touch absolutely nothing related to the actual operation of the car without asking me first. This includes the steering wheel, horn, blinkers, headlights, windshield wipers, and gearshift. She is more than welcome to adjust the radio, AC, and things related to comfort inside the car, of course. Obviously, I would make an exception if it were a matter of life and death and I didn’t see in time (if she were to jerk the steering wheel to avoid a child jumping out into the road, or something of that nature), but nothing like that has ever happened. This rule is in place because early in our relationship, Korey would occasionally just decide for me that I should honk the horn, and then just reach over and do it. That was something which I was absolutely not going to tolerate, and I made it clear that unless she wanted to be a very, very sorry young lady, she was going to stop it right away. And she had. Until today.
I should admit at this point that I have always had a fantasy of spanking my beautiful but occasionally naughty wife in the backseat of the car, in a semi–public place. Ideally, a place where the threat of someone seeing her spanking would be present but the chance of anyone actually seeing would be very low, and even if someone did see, it would be someone we wouldn’t likely see again.
In fact, this fantasy has almost certainly helped Korey avoid several car–related spankings that she might have otherwise received. It is very important to me that I never give Korey a discipline spanking only to fulfill a fantasy of mine, and so I erred on the side of letting her be a brat in the car on a number of occasions. She hadn’t ever done anything so blatant that I could feel justified in making the punishment fit the crime by taking her over my knee for a long, hard, bare–bottom spanking in the backseat of our car, with people walking by only about thirty yards away. Until today.
Korey and I were on our way to the park where we like to go walking. There isn’t anywhere worth walking in our neighborhood, so we drive about fifteen minutes to a pretty park with a trail that follows a creek and ends at a pond. We go almost every day, both for exercise, and to have some time to spend with each other away from our work. We pulled up to the last light before the park and waited to turn left. It is an intersection where turning left on the regular green light is not allowed; you have to wait for a green arrow. There was one car ahead of us, and none behind. The red light is fairly lengthy, but I wasn’t bothered by that today because both of us were in pretty good moods, and we weren’t in any particular hurry. Eventually, the green arrow lit up. The car ahead of us didn’t move, and perhaps two or even three seconds passed. I started to consider gently honking the horn, but nobody was behind me and I knew I had a few more seconds before the light turned red again.
Then, without the slightest warning, Korey reached over and honked the horn.
I was initially far more startled than angry. Not startled by the horn, but startled that she would so casually do something that she knows very well is absolutely off limits. She can give me all the reminders and directions she wants and I’ll give almost unlimited leeway on comments and opinions on my driving as well, but she knows very well that if I am driving the car, I am driving the car. I will not tolerate her just reaching over and doing things for me as if I were a fifteen–year–old with a learner’s permit. I was so surprised at this that I looked behind me to confirm that there was indeed nobody there, since perhaps she might have thought her decision excusable if by waiting to honk we were keeping a group of other people waiting at the light. There was still nobody behind us, however. Yes, she was definitely going to be a sorry young lady….
Santa Fe Spanking
By James Johnson (husband of Korey Mae Johnson)
She really, really needed a spanking… was I going to let her out of this one as well?
I leaned my head over slightly to smell Korey’s hair and kiss her head gently. She was sleeping peacefully, her head on my shoulder, in the seat next to me on our flight to Santa Fe. I was going to attend an engineering conference and then to interview for a job at a nearby lab, and she was coming along for fun. The conference was at a nice hotel in downtown Santa Fe, and she was looking forward to walking around, visiting some of the shops, and hanging out after the conference in the evenings. One of the perks of her job as a writer and web designer is the ability to travel with me without affecting her work.
My stomach growled, demanding some of the snacks I had bought for the flight, snacks which we didn’t have with us because Korey hadn’t remembered to pack them because she had been in a rush at the last minute. We like to travel a lot, short car trips, medium trips, long trips when I have time away from work. We don’t spend money on very much else, and we look for deals, so we are able to go a lot more often than people we know with a much higher income. As we’ve done more and more of it, we’ve settled into roles, jobs we take care of to make the trip go smoothly.
I do all of the pre–trip planning, since this is work Korey doesn’t enjoy at all. I hunt for deals on flights, hotels, rental cars, and everything else, so that we are able to take enjoyable trips frequently while staying within our financial limits. When I find deals, I book them, follow–up and make sure reservations are confirmed. I also figure out who is going to watch our cats and make sure rent and bills and other things are taken care of before we leave. For her part, Korey is supposed to make sure our place is clean and all of our clothes are clean and ready to go, and to do most of the packing. Yesterday, however, had not been a good day for her as far as her end of the travelling bargain. Not a good day at all.
As I thought about this and built up my resolve to discipline her once we got to the hotel, she made a soft, contented sleeping noise, and nestled her head further into my shoulder. I had a feeling she wasn’t going to end up getting a spanking….
“Here sweetie, let me take that laptop bag,” I said, as we started our walk through Albuquerque airport toward the bag claim. Korey’s laptop is a 17 inch monster, and along with everything else packed alongside it, makes her bag quite heavy.
“You already have a bag, honey, I can take this one,” she replied.
I took her shoulder gently, and leaned in to whisper, “Young lady, being head of household doesn’t just mean I spank you when you are naughty, it also means I get to carry your bags for you, whether you like it or not.”
That earned her a quick slap on the bottom, hard enough to make my point clear, but still moderate enough that someone else in the airport would mistake it for a purely playful gesture. She handed me the bag, and I slung it over my free shoulder, then leaned close to her again, kissed her neck, and whispered playfully, “If you keep arguing with me about this, some other travelers are going to get to see how a naughty young wife is properly dealt with.” She blushed slightly at this, and it was just as cute as it always is when she blushes.
“They have a really nice pool here, sweetie, and the weather is great, I bet you’ll enjoy swimming and doing some reading by the pool,” I said, as we explored the conference hotel that afternoon, after the drive to Santa Fe.
Korey, however, frowned and looked a little nervous. “I forgot to pack my swimming suit,” she admitted sheepishly.
She was definitely getting a long, hard spanking, it was now settled, I told myself. However, she was visibly tired, and I had some work to do that afternoon. We would take care of it this evening, I decided. After our walk around the hotel, we returned to our room, and she immediately fell asleep on the bed. Glancing over at her occasionally, I reminded myself I was going to have to be firm. Even though her hair was falling over her face, and she was making those little sleep noises I love so much… and even though when I kissed her neck gently, she half woke up just long enough to mumble “I love you” in her sleepy voice, before immediately drifting off again… Grrrr…