Catherine smiled to herself as she arrived home. David had told her that since money was tight, she'd have to give up her riding lessons, and she'd promised that she would. But what her husband didn't know, wouldn't hurt him, would it? She had more than enough time to get home and get changed again before his workday was done, and he'd never known where she'd been. Luckily, he never checked the credit card statement – she was the one who did that.
Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice his car parked outside, so her first hint that something was wrong was when she entered the house and found him sitting on the sofa with a displeased expression.
"The office lost internet, so they asked us to work from home the rest of the day," he explained. "Now, care to explain where you've been? And why you're wearing jodhpurs and carrying your riding helmet?"
She bit her lip. Explaining away her absence would have been easy. Explaining her attire would be more difficult. "Well, Janet invited me to a costume –"
"Catherine Piper," he said, his voice suddenly ominous. "You are in a lot of trouble right now. Do you really want to make it worse by lying to me?"
Reflecting on this, she decided that she didn't. "I've been at the riding school," she admitted.
"Even though I told you we don't have money for that right now? Even though you agreed, and promised me that you wouldn't go?"
"Well, you still have your archery!" she complained.
"I've stopped spending money on that. No new equipment, and I no longer go to the range – just target practice with Jacob in his field. But you're changing the subject, young lady. It's one thing to keep riding, but you lied to me. You promised me you'd stop. And that's why you're going to be punished right now."
She tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly dry. Her fingers hovered piteously over her rear end as she thought about what was about to happen to her. Her fears were confirmed when he patted his lap. "Come here, Catherine."
On shaking knees, she inched forward to approach him. She looked pleadingly at him, but there was no mercy in his eyes as he patted his knee again. With no options, she leaned forward over his lap.
Once she was in position, his hand started to stroke the seat of her jodhpurs. She squirmed in anticipation, but he seemed in no hurry to begin. "If you had talked to me like an adult, maybe we could have found some other ways to solve our monetary issues. Maybe there is something else we can save money on – or maybe there is a cheaper way for you to keep riding. But you lied to me, Catherine. You lied to my face, then went behind my back and kept going to your lessons." And he lifted his hand.
She squealed as his firm palm landed on her soft flesh of her left bottom cheek. That first smack always caught her by surprise. But he didn't leave her waiting for the next stroke – he slapped her right cheek, then her left cheek again. He spanked hard and fast, wasting little time on warm-ups; he hated having to punish her, and wanted to be done with it as soon as possible.
His hand now focused on her sit spots, causing her to kick her legs and hiss through clenched teeth. He had a way of always find the most sensitive spots on her backside. It did not take long for tears to appear at the corner of her eyes.
After maybe ten minutes of hard hand-spanking, he helped her to her feet. She dried a few tears, eager to rub her stinging behind, but David did not allow her to do that until her punishment was complete, and she did not believe for a second that he was finished with her.
She expected to hear him order her to lower her jodhpurs. She feared that he would do it himself – she always found it embarrassing to be undressed like child – but instead, he pointed toward the closet. "Go and fetch your riding crop."
Her face turned pale. "You – you can't use that on me!" she gasped.
"Can't I? Go and fetch the riding crop, or you'll be fetching a few other implements as well. A wooden spoon, maybe, or the leather paddle, or –"
She whimpered and ran to the closet, wanting to avoid further punishment. She had bought the riding crop when she bought the rest of the equipment because it seemed to fit the costume, but she'd never actually used it on a horse. David had given her a few playful smacks over the jeans or on the seat of her skirt if she bent over to pick something up, but he'd never punished with it. This crop would be seeing real use for the first time.
David was standing next to the sofa, and she approached him with the crop on outstretched arms, the way she presented any implement to him. "Bend over the side of the sofa," he said as he grasped the crop.
Catherine bent forward and rested her body on the arm of the sofa, conscious of the way the material tightened on her sore rear end, and the way her backside was presented to her husband. She wondered why he hadn't bared her bottom. There had to be a reason, but she didn't want to ask, in case she gave him ideas.
He tapped the crop against his palm. "You're wondering why I haven't lowered your jodhpurs," he said, reading her thoughts. "It's because I want you to think about this every time you see those jodhpurs or this crop in the future." He now tapped the crop against her backside, causing her to wince in anticipation. "I want you to think about how you misled to your husband, about how you decided to sneak around like a bad little girl instead of talking to me like an adult. I want you to remember what happens to liars."
He swung the crop, and it landed soundly on the seat of her jodhpurs. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, unable to cry out. The sting was concentrated on a small spot, more like the wooden spoon than any other implement he had ever used on her. Without pausing for a second, he found another sensitive spot and let the crop land. She arched her back, doing her best to avoid kicking her legs – he wanted her to stay in position no matter what.
The crop landed on the crack between her cheeks, then moved to the underside of her bottom to concentrate on those painful sit spots. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she began to plead with him that she had learned her lesson, that she would always tell the truth, and that she was very sorry for what she'd done.
By the time he placed the crop down on the coffee table, her face was streaked with tears, her nails had made claw marks in her new couch cushion, and her bottom felt like a tenderized steak. He sat down on the sofa and gathered her in his lap, whispering soothingly as she promised him that she'd learned her lesson and would never misbehave again. And while he didn't quite believe her, he was certain that she wouldn't be sneaking off for any more riding lessons – at least until her bottom healed…
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