Anya stopped dead in her tracks as the voice speaking these words made her blood run cold. Her mind raced as she tried to think of a good reason she had disobeyed him and left the house sick. Slowly, she turned and looked into her husband’s deep blue eyes, which now seemed to bore into her very soul.
Mitch threw his hand up. “DON’T!!!” he commanded in a tone she knew well. Mitch stood 6’04” and fairly towered over Anya’s 5’05” frame. He slowly and purposefully approached her as she began to nervously play with the bottom of the t-shirt she was wearing. “Anya Marie…just what do you think you are doing?” His voice was low and steady as he asked her this question, not seeking an answer. “Just this morning I left you with a fever of 102.5! You were to be home resting! Instead I find you here…at the store…would you care to explain yourself?!?”
Mitch glared at Anya as she nervously stumbled over her words saying, “I…I’ve been feeling better and I was bored to tears.”
Taking his wife by the arm and leading her out of the store to his car, he stated, “We’re going back home and have a little discussion, young lady! Let me assure you, you will not be bored to tears.”
“I don’t think I would say anything further, Anya Marie,” he strongly suggested.
She wisely took the hint and sat quietly on the passenger side while she tormented over the fate that surely awaited her. Mitch was very serious about his wife’s health since a severe bout with strep throat which landed her in the hospital the previous year.
While Anya sat thinking, so did Mitch as he drove. He thought about his wife driving with a high fever, possibly passing out behind the wheel of the car…and any other number of things that could have happened.
In silence, they approached the house. Pulling into the carport and stopping, Mitch turned to Anya and carefully said, “Get on up to the bedroom…NOW!”
“Yes, Sir,” she nearly whispered, opening the door and exiting the vehicle.
Mitch watched as Anya slowly went inside, knowing what was running through her mind. Shaking his head, he quickly called his brother, making arrangements to pick up Anya’s car later that day. He then strengthened his resolve and started inside himself.
Anya sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Mitch to come up and discuss matters with her. She was not looking forward to this discussion.
She heard Mitch slowly climbing the stairs and then watched as the door opened.
Looking at Anya sitting appearing so pathetic, he went into the bathroom to get the digital thermometer. He needed to know if she was still running a fever. He would not punish her that day if she was.
“Open up,” he ordered, placing the thermometer under Anya’s tongue then turning the armless desk chair and sitting.
“Honey,” Mitch started. “Do you understand how much I love you?”
Anya responded with a quiet nod.
“Do you realize that you could have been seriously injured had you say…passed out due to your fever while driving? You could have been hurt or hurt someone else!” He expressed with great concern evident in his voice.
Anya glared at the floor as the thermometer signaled it was done. Removing it, Mitch stood shaking his head. He then showed the display to his wife.
“101.9,” he stated. “And you are out running around!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Anya said, beginning to cry.
“Get changed and get back into bed. When your fever is gone, we WILL be discussing your behavior, young lady!”
“Yes, Sir,” Anya answered and quickly complied.
For the rest of that day and the next day, Mitch stayed with Anya and nursed his ailing wife.
Two days later, Anya sat on the edge of the bed with the thermometer protruding from her mouth once again, Mitch watching her.
Beeping indicated that the moment of truth was at hand. Mitch looked at the display and nodded.
“98.2,” he stated. “I think it’s time we have that talk, young lady.”
Sitting down in the armless desk chair, Mitch called Anya to him. Slowly she obeyed, eying the mahogany brush sitting ominously on the vanity, well within her husband’s reach.
“Honey,” Mitch began. “Do you understand why I was so upset…and why you are being punished?”
Hanging her head, she answered meekly, “Yes, Sir.”
Rolling up his sleeves, Mitch declared, “There’s no reason then to put it off any longer,” reaching out and pulling down Anya’s panties, allowing her to step out of them before gently guiding her over his lap.
“I hate to have to do this, honey, but you are going to begin taking your health seriously.”
With this statement, he began bringing his massive hand down repeatedly, turning her bottom bright crimson.
“You will SMACK SMACK not drive SMACK SMACK when SMACK SMACK you have SMACK SMACK a fever SMACK SMACK…You will SMACK SMACK obey SMACK SMACK and rest SMACK SMACK when you SMACK SMACK are sick SMACK SMACK…do SMACK you SMACK under SMACK stand? SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
Quickly reduced to tears, she wiggled and squirmed as she yelped, “Yes, Sir.”
Stopping for just a moment, he reached over to pick up the mahogany brush to make extra sure the point was understood and driven home.
CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK At this point, Mitch let the brush do the talking for him. The brush fell for a solid 5 minutes until Anya lay, limp and sobbing over her husband’s lap. He then lay the brush back down on the vanity and began gently rubbing Anya’s back saying, “its okay, honey…all is forgiven…it’s over now.”
As her crying grew to soft sobs, Mitch picked up his well spanked wife and carried her over to the bed, where he lay her down gently and cradled her in his arms. He stroked her long amber locks as the woman he loved more than life itself drifted off to sleep and, gently kissing her forehead, whispering, “Life is good.”