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"But I'm so useless."
"Only because you're making mountains out of molehills, and far too much of this damned house." His voice was rising in anger, a sharp edge that should have made her stop, but it didn't.
"I'm NOT making mountains out of molehills. You want to keep me captive in this place, shove the whole damned mess in my face, gloat like the devil over your triumph." She was sounding shrill.
"That's enough!" Tony said. His look was devastating. He pulled away from her, peered at her with one eye, as she watched his chest seemed to expand, all puffed up with his brewing anger.
"Is that so?" she replied haughtily. Closer to the steps of the gazebo than Tony, she suddenly bolted out the opening, and dashed toward the house. She was going upstairs to pack.
Tony looked at her shaking his head, wondering what to do with his perplexing wife. He sure as hell wasn't going to let her get away with disappearing at the drop of a hat. If another round over his lap was necessary, then so be it.
Melanie had the suitcase on the bed, and a bunch of her lingerie thrown inside when Tony stormed after her into their bedroom.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. He hoped he would find her pouting, not ready to leave.
"Going on my trip," she announced plainly, with just enough of a petulant tone to make her husband more furious.
"You little brat!" he seethed. His eyes were flashing wildly. It was so startling, Melanie had a hard time concentrating on her own "justified" wrath.
"Call me anything you want," she answered sassily. She was taunting him shamelessly. Maybe it was a test of Tony's resolve. Maybe this was to define the limits in the changing complexion of their marriage, maybe it was simply foolish; but she knew that she was bringing the moment to an explosive head with every snappy retort she ripped off her tongue.
"Unpack now!" Tony demanded.
"No," she answered defiantly. She went about pulling things from her dresser, and throwing them into the suitcase. She was so on automatic that she wasn't even considering the things she was packing. It looked more like she was leaving for good than just a few days.
"You're not giving me much choice, are you?" Tony said.
"Choice? What do you mean?"
Tony didn't waste any more words. He whipped around and pulled open the top drawer of his bureau and pulled out the spanker that he had discovered in the attic.
Taking Melanie by the arm, he pulled her to the bay window in their room where there was a chair just waiting for him. Sitting down, he pulled his wife over his lap and pulled up her cotton shift, revealing just a pair of cotton panties underneath.
Briskly tugging at the waistband, he yanked them down.
"Ouch!" Melanie protested. "You stop this now! This is NOT the time to paddle my bottom."
"It most certainly is. You're going to stop this pouting, and whining, and bratty nonsense once and for all."
Seeing Melanie's quivering white bottom, he could think of nothing but the delicious sight of her ass cheeks covered with a blushing red burn. Raising his arm with the spanker in his hand, he brought it down firmly on his wife's behind.
SMACK!
The sound was remarkable, the explicit snap of the leather seemed to echo through the room. Bringing his arm back again, he gave her another fierce whack. And then another and another. A regular cadence of smacks resounded through the cool morning air. And in no time, her beautiful posterior was quivering madly and blushing with a soft pink glow.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!
At first, shocked by the sudden explosion of anger the two had unleashed, Melanie said nothing. Indeed, the first smacks of the leather, while their noise vibrated through the air, weren't all that painful. They were sharp and quick, instantly making her body heat rise deliciously, but they hardly hurt.
Yet, as Tony continued with the spanker, another snap of the leather and another still, the sensations turned into something altogether different. And Melanie, regaining some sense of what was happening, began to wiggle against her husband's legs and groan nastily. Her anger poured out all the more; and she began a spirited protest, as if she could throw herself from Tony's lap and get away.
"Stop it now!" she roared. The burn on her bottom was becoming ferocious. But, it was clear that Tony wasn't going to obey her command. Then again, he never did, why would he now?
"I'm stopping when I want to stop," he reminded her. "And you might want to lower your voice,
unless you want the whole house to know that you're getting spanked."
Tony's reminder came none too soon. Melanie was about to cry even more loudly, but the idea that the workmen below might hear her vociferous wails above the noise of their hammers scared her into smothering her cries. Instead of crying, she wiggled and squirmed until Tony's right leg went over her flailing lower limbs to hold them down, so she was completely pinned.
