After she prepares his meal, she quickly makes her way to the corner of the room. She then reaches up under her dress, grabs hold of her underwear and pulls them all the way down to her ankles. She trembles just a little. So much nervous energy. With her dress held up above her waist, she presses her nose deep into the corner and waits for her husband to finish eating. No matter how many times the Sunday afternoon ritual is needed, she never gets used to that feeling in the pit of her stomach during those long moments of exposure. Even in the Summer, her skin breaks out in goosebumps of anticipation.
Her husband takes his time. He always does. There is no need to rush. This is part of her punishment, of course, standing bare in the corner like a naughty child, left in the silence of her own thoughts, contemplating the reasons she has ended up in the corner once again. He stares at his wife's ass in appreciation. He enjoys the softness of her skin, her subtle tan lines from afternoons spent by the pool in her bikini. But he understands there is a job to do. He cannot let himself be distracted by feelings of lust. He knows that when she returns to the corner, after her punishment, her bottom will no longer be white and she will no longer be silent. There will be brilliant scarlet bruising and tears and all that comes along with those things.
When her husband finishes his meal, she will retrieve the paddle herself. It hangs prominently by the fireplace - a clear message to any and all visitors because they have no children. There is no mistaking the paddle's purpose in this home. It conjures up memories of trips to the principal's office - she was actually a bit of a wild teen not all that long ago and had the seat of her jeans warmed on a few occasions. But unlike those schoolgirl paddlings from days gone by, she will receive the hard wood against her bare skin here at home. And there will be no set limit to the number of swats. She will take what her husband feels that she deserves.
In the living room, she bends over the arm of the couch, butt pointed upward to meet the paddle. She is grateful the curtains are closed. From this undignified position, she will recount all of her misbehavior from the past week. When she only makes a mistake or two, she gets off easy. But when she has a bad week, she will inevitably have trouble sitting comfortably for a few days. She understands why this is necessary and how it makes her a better wife. He only punishes her when she deserves it and he never paddles in anger. Later, after her post-spanking cornertime is over, they will make love in the fading light of the evening and those times are always the best times together.
