After taking a bit of a break from Sunday Spotlight last week, it’s back this week, and I’m spotlighting my own new book, Learning to Live Again, that will be released next week on January 28.
Grant watched Lainie go into the office before taking a deep breath and running his hands through his hair. What the hell was he going to do now? Well, obviously, he was going to have to spank Lainie, and really spank her this time, not just a few swats in the heat of the moment.
He’d known since he talked to Matt that he was going to eventually have to bite the bullet. He was doing them both a disservice by hesitating, but he hadn’t expected it to happen quite as fast. He’d moved on instinct when it became obvious that Lainie was still feeling guilty and needing something more to be able to forgive herself, but when she had disappeared into the other room so had his façade of confidence.
Okay, pull it together, Grant. It’s just a spanking. You have been on the receiving end often enough. Maybe not in 20 years, but you understand the mechanics of things. You’re the one that wanted to institute domestic discipline. Now it’s time to make good on it.
He swallowed hard. How was he going to do this? Obviously, the simplest thing would be to just put her over his knee and take his hand to her backside, but something in him hesitated. He could still hear his grandfather clearly saying, “Hands are for loving, son. Sure, I’m not above a quick swat in a pinch, but I don’t ever want you or any of the others to fear my hands.” It was probably silly. He knew enough about DD to know that plenty of people spanked barehanded, and his grandfather’s sentiment didn’t necessarily hold true, but it was so ingrained that it violated his sense of rightness to go against it. He couldn’t do it.
The trouble was, they were so new to this he didn’t have a lot of options. He had belts, of course, but that seemed unnecessarily harsh, not to mention he wasn’t at all sure he could control a belt to his satisfaction. Lainie’s hair brush? A wooden spoon? Both were available, but neither one felt right. Lainie’s brush was a flimsy modern plastic thing that didn’t look like it would hold up against a hard fall much less the kind of spanking Lainie needed. Dammit, he needed a paddle.
Wait a minute…
He stepped into the closet and dug around until he found the welcome basket Brent had given him when they moved in. It had included an official Corbin’s Bend paddle. Grant picked it up and gripped it, considering. It was solid and hefty, though fairly small, rectangular shaped, perhaps a foot long and three quarters of an inch thick. It was clearly meant to pack a punch. He swung it lightly against his leg and winced, surprised at the intensity of the sting. No, it would do nicely for a serious punishment, but it was too heavy for what he needed now. He had suspected it would be. It was thicker and heavier than the one Grant’s father had used throughout his childhood. That thought stopped him in his tracks. He dropped the paddle back into the basket and headed for the garage. He was an idiot… a complete idiot.
Flipping a switch and blinking in the harsh glare of the overhead light, he weaved his way through the boxes stacked in the garage. Thankfully, he had moved these particular boxes himself and knew exactly where the ones he needed were. Years ago, when his mother had moved to her current retirement community in Florida, she had boxed up some of his father’s things that she thought Grant might want and given them to him. Much to Grant’s amusement, she had included his father’s paddle, assuming that he, like his father and grandfather before him, was the Head of Household and disciplinarian for his family. Since at the time he was not and had no use for it, Grant had never taken the paddle out of the box. He had simply kept it in storage along with the other things as family heirlooms, never dreaming he might one day have a use for it. It took rummaging through two of the boxes, but he located the paddle, still wrapped carefully in one of his mother’s dishtowels. He took it out and carried it into the house, snapping off lights and closing doors behind him as he went.
Yes, this was perfect for what he needed. It was roughly the same size and shape as the Corbin’s Bend paddle but thinner and much lighter weight. He knew from considerable experience that this particular paddle, while it stung like blazes, relied much more on repetition than the weight of the paddle itself for its impact. He himself had endured more than one long hard spanking with this paddle without ever having more than a very red sore rear and the very occasional light bruise left behind. Part of that was undoubtedly due to his father’s skill on the subject, but at least he didn’t have to fear doing true damage this way. Besides, if he were really honest, the sentimental part of him that he didn’t like to think about much less really admit existed, thought it was appropriate that when he spanked his wife for the first time it would be with his father’s paddle. He was still incredibly nervous, but it helped.