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By Jonathan Quincy Graves
{Note: This is the fifth in a multi-part story series describing the evolving relationship of a woman who provides leadership and discipline for her husband. Each installment can stand alone, but they read much better if you start at the beginning, go to: Erin Ch. 01 – Female led Relationship. JQGraves}
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I have to laugh at myself when I think of our life together. Erin has been so much more mature and capable than I, and after seven years in our woman led marriage, we still love each other more than any other couple I know. To be fair, I don’t seem to get out much, other than the weekly grocery shopping. There aren’t enough hours in the day, what with the endless domestic chores required to maintain a clean and welcoming home for Erin, the time spent on all the little details involved with caring for Erin, and my faltering writing career. So, I guess I’m far from an expert on other people’s relationships. Still, while I was ironing a few of Erin’s blouses Wednesday evening, we talked about our life together and how happy she has made me. It is only when I forget and take myself too seriously, that I get into trouble.
My loving wife has all the business sense in our woman led marriage. I didn’t realize it at first. It was not long after our fourth anniversary together I recognized her superiority in that area. Let me see. I remember her saying…
“Darling, I’ve been looking at your business account statement, and there is a charge here that makes little sense to me.”
“My bank statement?” I asked. “Where did you get that? That’s my private account; the one I use to track the credits and expenses associated with my writing business.”
“I noticed it when I brought in the mail today, dear. It arrived just as I was finishing my run, and I thought to save you the trouble of trudging out to the mail box. You don’t mind that I opened it, do you?”
Erin raised an eyebrow when she asked me that question—never a good sign.
“No, my love, not at all,” I said. I was on thin ice if she thought I was questioning or criticizing what she’d done. “That’s the account I use for bookkeeping so the lady who does the taxes for my writing business can calculate profit and loss and how much I have to pay. Of course, I don’t mind you opening the statement. I certainly don’t keep any secrets from you. It’s just something you don’t have to worry about.” I looked for the eyebrow to lower… Nope, not entirely.
Erin and I never bothered to add each other to the bank accounts we each had before we married. She made so much more money than I that she had taken on the mortgage and car payments out of her account. We split things like groceries, whoever shopped (usually me) paid, and we each bought whatever else we wanted from our personal accounts.
“If that is your business account, where do you keep the money to run the house, pay for utilities, purchase groceries and buy the other things you need?”
“Oh, that’s simple, really.” Damn, I thought. That sounded like I was talking down to her. Bad idea on Discipline Day. “I pay myself a salary from my business account artvin escort into my personal checking account and use that when I need to buy stuff.” There, that should do it. Now to change the subject. “So, how was your run this morning?”
“I understand what you are doing with your income, it’s this transfer of $350 from your business to your personal account last week I am wondering about. I’m not aware of any recent household emergencies for that amount.”
So much for changing the subject. “Oh, that. I needed a new fly rod and Orvis had a sale on their Helios-3 I couldn’t pass up. There was not enough in my regular checking account to cover it, so I transferred some from the business. I’m expecting a royalty check this week that will cover the shortfall.”
“So, you spent $350 on a fly rod? Don’t you have two or three fly rods already?”
“Well, yes, I’ve got four, actually. They come in different styles and weights, but they are all old technology. You wouldn’t believe how the science has advanced in recent years.”
“The science of fly-fishing? What? Does having the latest fly rod guarantee you’ll catch more fish? Bigger fish? Is it worth diverting $350 from your business account to buy a fishing rod? Have you ever calculated how that works out in terms of dollars per pound of fish caught?”
That’s my Erin. She sure knows how to cut to the bottom line. “You can’t think of it in those terms. The money spent on fishing gear is for entertainment, not food. I’m strictly a catch-and-release fly fisherman, so nothing I catch makes it to the dinner table. And no, I don’t suppose a top-of-the-line fly rod guarantees more or better catches, but you can really feel the fish on the other end of the line when you hook one with a great, responsive rod,” I said, while thinking: I hope she doesn’t ask what the Helios-3 actually cost.
“Okay, but $350? Is it worth that much when you already own four perfectly good fishing rods? Rods you only take out of the closet two or three times a year?” she asked.
Nothing for it now, I thought. If she catches me in a lie, there will be hell to pay, and meeting Lucile will just be the beginning of the pain she’ll rain down on me. She hates lies, and she considers withholding the truth another form of lying.
“True, I haven’t fished much lately, but I plan to get back into it. And… Actually… Well, the Helios-3 sells for $950, but I got it for only $825,” I blurted, quickly, fearing an explosion. “I didn’t have quite that much in my regular account,” I added. My voice kind of trailed off there toward the end.
Erin smiled at me when I finished explaining, and said in the nicest voice you could ever want to hear: “We’ll talk about it more later, dear. Today is your day for discipline, why don’t you get yourself ready and I’ll join you in a little while.”
I need to explain. It was not long before that time Erin learned from her friend, Michelle, that weekly discipline sessions would be good for our relationship. So, each Saturday afternoon I strip naked and stand in my “meditation corner” until Erin aydın escort comes with the hairbrush she named Lucile and places me over her lap for a weekly discipline spanking. We discuss how I performed during the week—quality of my work at assigned tasks, courtesy toward Erin and all other women, demonstrated eagerness to please, that sort of thing—and my discipline is more or less intense accordingly.
When this first started, I was angry to learn Erin discussed our lifestyle with her friend, and I hated Michelle and her meddling. However, over time, I’ve learned it really is a good system if I approach it with the proper attitude. Discipline is an essential element in a woman led marriage. It provides the husband with guidance, establishes and reinforces the hierarchy within the marriage, and imparts emotional release and grounding for both parties. Still, those sessions always bring me close to tears, although they are never as bad as a real punishment spanking. At least they weren’t as bad until that day.
The day of the “Great Fly Rod Caper,” as Erin dubbed it, saw me in the meditation corner for the longest ever wait before my meeting with Lucile. And, what a meeting that was. Erin often warms me up with a hand spanking on Discipline Day, but not that day. She started right off with Lucile, and she showed no mercy from the first smack. The house echoed with the impact of Lucile on my naked ass, which sound was soon joined with my wails of contrition, pleas for forgiveness and promises to never do it again. Hell, I’d never do anything again if she would just stop spanking me.
Erin stopped after 100 very hard spanks, shoved me off her lap, took me by the ear and led me back to my meditation corner. “We are not finished,” she growled. “That is just the first installment. Before we are done, you’ll feel Lucile impact your foolish bottom 300 times. And we won’t be done then either.
“While you were spending way too much money on a fancy fishing pole, which you’ll rarely use, I made a much smaller but more intelligent investment in a good leather strap. It is thick but supple, sixteen inches long, three inches wide split down the middle and has a comfortable wooden handle for me to hold. When I first saw it, it reminded me of the split tongue of a dragon, so I’ve named her Delphyne. That’s the name of a fire-breathing female dragon from mythology. Delphyne will visit your naughty red bottom another 50 times. 350 strokes all together, to match the money you took out of your business. Meditate on that and be thankful I am not setting the number at the full 825 you wasted.”
I was in the corner for at least a half hour before Erin delivered the second volley. Toward the end of the second 100 spanks, she expanded the area down to the tops of my thighs, searching for new, unpunished flesh to spank. Then it was back to the corner again.
I was an emotional wreck when Erin announced it was time for the third session. I was crying and sniffling and trying to beg for mercy, but there is one thing about my Erin, she is resolute when it comes to discipline. Once she balıkesir escort starts, she will not stop until she is satisfied. My opinion never enters the calculation.
As bad as Lucile is, and meeting Lucile can be terrible, I learned that day that a visit from Delphyne is even worse. For my strapping, Erin had me bend over the back of a dining room chair and hold on to the seat with the order: “Don’t you dare let go of the seat of that chair, or get out of position before I’ve delivered fifty strokes and told you to rise. If you do, I will start your strapping over at one.”
Erin wielded her cursed strip of heavy leather like a pro—winding up, pivoting with her legs and torso and using the strength of her entire body to deliver dragon fire to my bottom. She started high and tracked overlapping strokes an inch at a time down past the sweet spot at the bottom of the bum where the stroke really burns. Damn that hurt!
The first time Erin’s dragon of a strap breathed molten fire across the sweet spot I could not stop myself. I bolted upright and my hands flew to my ass in a vain attempt to douse the flames.
“It’s back to one for you, mister. Get over that chair and do not get out of position again. We can take the rest of the day if necessary, you, me and Delphyne.
The total number of strokes I received that day might have reached or even surpassed 825 if Erin had not taken pity on me after the fourth time I could not stay in position over the chair. Strokes to my thighs were just too painful. It was obvious we would not reach 50 straight, so Erin pulled out my padded wrist and ankle cuffs, piled four pillows on the center of the bed and tied me spread-eagle over them, my bottom raised to greet Delphyne. Every strapping I’ve received since, and there have been several, has been in that way—bottom raised high above the bed, cuffed and tied so I cannot avoid, Delphyne’s fiery visit.
The following Monday morning, we drove to the bank together and made Erin co-signer on all of my accounts.
It was six months later when my access was removed from my business account. Erin explained it would be easier for me if I did not have to worry about such things. We discussed it on a Discipline Day, and I agreed with her it would be simpler if the royalties from my writing went to her and she gave me a weekly allowance. I did all the shopping for us by that time, so Erin did not have to worry about groceries, cleaning supplies, etc. After all, I was doing all the cooking, cleaning, laundry and other household chores, so the new arrangement made perfect sense.
We’ve also put the major assets in Erin’s name, including the house and my car. Erin pointed out that because her income is so very much greater than mine, it makes good sense for her to shoulder the financial burden of those assets. Even with that debt in her name, her credit rating is sterling. Far higher than mine ever was. Besides, that arrangement seems proper in a woman led marriage.
I still write commercially, now and then, although publishers have about given up on me meeting their deadlines. Who can find the time? Just yesterday, I spent a good two hours scrubbing Erin’s master bathroom, and she still found things I’d missed when she inspected my work. They weren’t blatant, so I did not have to meet Lucile on the spot, but I expect I’ll hear about it next Discipline Day.
I hate to disappoint my wife. I’ll do better next time.
END of Erin – 5 – Woman Led Marriage
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