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Act Your Age -

Part One

© 2000 nautybaby

It all started innocently enough. At least it seemed innocent at the time. Lesley , my wife, had been away on business all week. Having nothing to do on a Thursday night, I decided to go to the club.

Wilton Hills Country Club is the kind of place people like me aspire to but rarely attain. For all my hard work, I could never have become a member without Lesley 's income and connections. It was old money, and I was not.

Carol worked in Lesley 's department. The daughter of Lesley 's employer, Carol considered Wilton Hills a second home . I met Carol shortly after Lesley had me admitted as a member. We engaged good-natured teasing about the difference in our ages. Nearly twice Carol 's age, she called me an "old man," while I ribbed her about being a "kid."

That night was no different as Carol and I bantered about the relative merits of the music of our respective generations. I mentioned a record I had been listening to the previous night.

"Record?" she said.

"You mean CD, don't you?"

"No," I said.

"A record. A vinyl disc that's played on a phonograph. Can you say that? Pho-no-graph?"

"I know what a record is. My parents have some. Only senior citizens actually listen to them anymore."

I gave her a frosty look but laughed with her anyway.

The evening wore on with more of our usual banter. As Carol got up to leave, I said, "You better learn to respect your elders, or somebody's going to give you a good spanking one of these days, little girl."

She glared at me and smiled on her way out the door.

I picked up Lesley at the airport the next afternoon. As she walked down the ramp from the plane, I noticed again what an imposing figure she cut in her tailored business suit and pumps. A briefcase holding papers that I knew represented a deal worth millions to her company swung absently in her hand. Her sunglasses gave her an aloofness that made one wish she would deign to give her attention for just a moment. I had only heard the word used in reference to men, but the one that came to mind as she strode toward me was dashing.

Lesley kissed me on the cheek as she handed me her briefcase.

"How was your week, dear?"

"Fine," I said.

"A bit lonely without you. How did things go in Chicago ?"

She touched my face and smiled.

"Very well indeed. We were prepared to go to eight fifty , but by the time I was done, they were happy to take six and a quarter."

We picked up her bags and drove home . Lesley said she was in the mood to celebrate. She had gotten some shopping in while in Chicago and wanted to show off her new dress. She suggested a new bistro that offered live music and dancing after dinner.

Lesley changed into the dress she had found at a vintage clothing store near Lincoln Park . It was a shirtwaist in blue-green silk. The stiff collar snapped up in back. A starched crinoline added a fullness to the skirt and her hips that was magnetic. As she sat at the vanity table brushing her hair and putting on her pearls, I considered the transformation that had taken place in a few short hours. Where she was cool and aloof in her business suit, Lesley was the picture of warmth in this dress from the fifties. One thing remained constant. She was powerful. I stifled a chuckle as the image came into my head: Donna Reed with attitude.

Over dinner, Lesley told me stories of how she had driven the deal home . She laughed as she recounted how the president of TenCorp practically whimpered as she set out a laundry list of the things that were wrong with her takeover target.

I picked at the nouvelle cuisine that was artfully arranged on my plate. I was hoping for something more traditional and substantial, a good steak perhaps, and said so. As the band made its way to the small stage, Lesley told me to eat up. She wanted to dance. She told me I was a "good boy," as the lat julienned bite went into my mouth.

About that time, Carol came in. She spotted us right away and came over to say hello. Lesley and Carol had become fast friends when Carol joined the department. Lesley asked her to join us . I excused myself and left the two of them to talk for a few minutes.

As I returned, I saw them laughing. Lesley gave me a cool look as I sat down again. I didn't know what that was all about, but I decided I should watch my step.

When the music started, I was disappointed. I was looking forward to some cool jazz. This band obviously played for a younger audience. I balked when Lesley asked me to dance. Nearly ten years my junior, Lesley was enjoying the music immensely. I told her I couldn't dance to this stuff. Carol started her digs about my age again.

I restrained myself as long as I could, then finally blurted out, "Children should be seen and not heard."

Lesley called the server over and asked for the check. I was still reaching for my wallet when Lesley handed the young woman a couple of bills, which must have included a substantial tip, judging from the smile.

" Richard . It's time to go," she said in her clear, powerful voice, as she strode toward the door.

I had no choice but to follow. I tried to say something to Carol , but nothing intelligent came out of my mouth. Finally, I shrugged and trotted after Lesley .

When I reached the parking lot, Lesley had already unlocked the car and was getting behind the wheel. I slid into the passenger seat and she drove away.

I wanted to apologize. The set of Lesley 's jaw and the whiteness of her knuckles on the wheel told me now would not be a good time. The twenty-minute drive home lasted hours.

Lesley wasted no time as we entered the door. I had just taken off my jacket when she wheeled about, hands on her hips.

"What have you got o say for yourself?" Her scowl told me everything I needed to know.

I stood there stammering. I found myself trembling as my mind raced trying to remember how to form words.

"I swear. It was like being out with a five-year-old. Maybe I should have ordered from the children's menu and cut up the meat for you. And don't you ever speak to Carol that way again. Not only is she my boss's daughter, but she is my friend." Her wagging finger, inches from the tip of my nose, emphasized her point.

"Well. Speak up," she said.

My mouth moved, but nothing came out.

Lesley grabbed my ear. I was shocked as she dragged me to a corner of the living room.

"Since you aren't in any mood to speak, you can stand there and think about it while I change out of this dress. It's obvious I have no need for it tonight."

I stood there for ages working on an apology. I couldn't believe I was standing there. Forty years old and standing in the corner like a toddler. But Lesley was really upset, and I needed her forgiveness. I wished I hadn't had so much coffee at dinner.

" Richard . Come here."

The call from the bedroom sent a chill up my spine. My knees shook as I made my way up the stairs. I found Lesley seated at her vanity brushing her hair. She had changed into a simple white blouse and full dark skirt. She had rolled the sleeves of the blouse to her elbows. Her pearls still rested elegantly about her neck.

I stood in the doorway, unsure whether to speak. After what seemed an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a minute, Lesley turned to face me.

"Come here Richard ," she said pointing to a spot in front of her.

I moved slowly to the place she indicated, become more anxious with each step. My heart fluttered and rose to my throat. My stomach was a tight knot.

She had hardly spoken to me since my comment to Carol . Each time, she had called me " Richard ." Normally, she would call me Rick , as is my preference. This use of my given name indicated the state of her anger. However, it was nothing to the fire I noticed in her eyes. I could tell she was furious, and it terrified me.

Lesley rose to confront me. In her heels she was as tall as me, and maybe a little more so. As she spoke, nearly nose-to-nose with me, she seemed to grow even more, or maybe I was shrinking.

"Now that you've had some time to think about it, have you got any excuse for the way you behaved tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Lesley . You know how Carol gets my goat."

"Gets your goat! Gets your goat! You embarrass me like that, and that's all you can say for yourself? What about the way you grumbled through dinner? That was Carol 's fault too, I suppose?"

I stood there trembling, trying to stammer out some other explanation. I did manage to get out another "I'm sorry," before Lesley sat down again in exasperation.

" Richard , your behavior tonight was intolerable. If this was the first time, I might mark it up to a bad day at the office. But it's not, and it's about time I did something about it. Tonight you are going to get the spanking you've needed for a long time. If you're going to act like a toddler, by God, I'm going to treat you like on."

The wagging of her hairbrush, which until then I hadn't noticed was still in her hand, emphasized her words. She set the brush in her lap and started to unfasten my belt.

" Lesley !" I whined, reaching to remove her hands.

She swiftly slapped my hands, scooped up her hairbrush, and delivered three sharp blows to the seat of my pants. Shock more than pain caused me to jump. A second or two later, I realized that the shock had combined with the effects of the coffee, and a small damp spot was cooling in my briefs. I desperately hoped Lesley would not notice.

Unruffled by brief resistance, Lesley returned to her task. I knew better than to interfere again. She unbuckled my belt and undid the buttons and hook closing my suit trousers. I said a silent prayer as Lesley worked the zipper down. Apparently nothing seemed out of the ordinary, as she lowered my pants to my ankles without comment.

Perspiration formed on my brow as I realized she had lowered my pants but not my underwear. As I debated what to do Lesley lifted my shirttails to get at the waistband of my briefs.

" Richard Edward Stephens !" My blood ran cold.

"Just look at yourself!"

Lesley stood and grabbed my ear. She gave it a twist as she dragged me toward the bathroom. I nearly fell, hobbled as I was by my pants.

"I can't believe you," she said with disdain.

She stood me in front of the toilet and whisked down my underpants.

"Go ahead. Let's see if you can at least finish like a big boy. Does Mommy have to hold it so everything goes in the potty?"

"I can do it myself," I grumbled. Her hairbrush connected with my backside.

"Don't talk back. Go on then."

Try as I might, nothing happened.

"Fine then." Lesley flipped own the seat, spun me around, and plopped me down on it.

"Since we don't have a splashguard, you can just hold that down between your legs until you're done."

I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks as I complied. I stared at the floor as Lesley stood over me in amused contempt, waiting.

Seconds passed, then minutes. Lesley tapped her foot but did not budge. Eventually, caffeine conquered shame.

"There. He does know how to use the potty," Lesley mocked.

"Come along," she said, taking me by the ear once more. I shuffled along behind.

Lesley took her seat by the vanity and placed a towel she had grabbed along the way across her lap.

"Just in case you have any more accidents," she said with a smirk.

Color rose in my face again, but I was so cowed by this point that I offered no resistance as Lesley took my wrist and pulled me across her lap.

As I looked upside down at the necktie dangling in front of my face and the knot of clothes gathered about the feet I saw on the far side of Lesley 's legs, I knew I must have made a ridiculous picture. I hadn't been in such a position since I was ten.

Whether from the air conditioning or from nerves, I felt a chill as Lesley drew my shirttail above my buttocks. I tensed as she rested the flat of the hairbrush there.

"Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. What a sight you are. A grown man about to get a spanking like a little boy. I suppose it should come as no surprise. After all, if you aren't too big to wet your pants, you certainly aren't too big to spank."

I groaned in shame, feeling my blush go from my face all the way to my toes. Fire shot through my lower cheeks as the hairbrush came crashing down.

"Honestly! Peeing your pants like a two-year-old. Was the little boy scared? Hmm?"

" Lesley . It was just all that coffee and the surprise and..."

"Quiet!" She punctuated the command with another stinging slap.

"I'm speaking to you, Richard . Or should I call you Dickey ? That sounds much more appropriate for someone who still needs to be in training pants, don't you think?"

My mind raced, trying to come up with an acceptable answer without sounding like I was admitting I needed trainers. Apparently, it was a rhetorical question, because she went on.

"There are going to be some changes around here, Dickey. This may be the first spanking you get from me, but I can assure you it won't be the last. I'm sick and tired of your whining and complaining every time we go somewhere. Remember when we went shopping last week? All day long, 'Another dress shop? Do we have to? Is it time to go yet? Can't I go to Sears and look at tools?' I had to practically drag you through the mall."

Lesley laid into me with ferocity. She beat a steady rhythm that increased in pace as she recalled our shopping trip. I cried out and my hand shot back to protect my tender backside. Lesley simply grabbed my wrist, pressing it to the small of my back and continued as if nothing had happened.

"But Honey..." Another thunderous smack silenced me.

"But Honeeeey," she mimicked.

"Don't you Honey me, little man. 'Children should be seen and not heard.' Isn't that what you said? If anyone is acting like a child, it's you. And since you insist on acting like a child, that's exactly the way I'm going treat you, unless and until you can show me you know how to behave like a grown up."

I had given up all pretense of strength by this point, and tears flowed from my eyes. I babbled incoherent apologies between cries of pain.

"For starters, you won't be going to the club without me there to supervise you anymore. I heard all about your little tirade last night and your parting shot to Carol . Do you have any idea how you embarrassed her? Do you have any clue how that affects me and my job? Well, how does it feel little boy? Do you still think spanking is funny? Are you going to be teasing Carol any more? Or are you going to continue to jeopardize my career?"

"No. No. NO!" I screeched, as Lesley went to work on the backs of my thighs. I had thought there could be nothing worse than the fire in my bottom. Now I was ready to beg Lesley to spank me there again, just to stop the torture of my legs.

"And there isn't going to be anymore complaining when we go out. You are absolutely right. Children should be seen and not heard. And if that means I have to stick a pacifier in your mouth to stop your whining, by God, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

An image of our trip to Ann Taylor floated through my head. Instead of the steely glare she had given me, I saw her reach into her purse, pull out an enormous pacifier, and shove it in my mouth. I had not the slightest doubt that if she had had one, she would have done exactly that. Tears turned to sobs as I saw the future unfold before me.

Although I still jumped as each smack sounded a deafening clap through the room, I no longer fought the spanking. I only wanted it to be over and to cry and beg Lesley 's forgiveness. Lesley must have sensed my defeat. She stopped spanking and stroked my behind, shushing me and murmuring consoling words.

When my heaving sobs turned to exhausted sniffles, Lesley released my wrist and eased me off her lap. I buried my face in her skirt and repeated again and again, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."

Lesley stroked my head and whispered, "Hush, Baby. Mommy loves you."

As I knelt there, limp and overwhelmed, her words were not incongruous. The spanking had been fierce and born of anger. But the affection Lesley gave me now was as genuine and tender as any in our time together. I knew, without doubt, that she loved me and always would. That unreserved love coupled with the spanking that came before could only be described as motherly. I felt the punishment I received was as much for my own good as it was to satisfy Lesley 's anger.

Lesley stood me up and gently steered me toward the bathroom. She dampened a washcloth with cool water and washed the tears from my face.

"Now, brush your teeth and go potty. Come back when you're done, and I'll tuck you in."

I could only nod as I reached for the toothbrush. Lesley kissed me on the cheek and left me to it.

I found my way back to the bedroom, a zombie on autopilot. I crawled into bed and quickly rolled onto my side when I realized sleeping on my back was out of the question. Lesley pulled the covers up around my neck and bent down to kiss me. I noticed she was still dressed.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" I asked.

"No, Sweetie. I have some things I need to do. I'll be along in a little while. You go to sleep now. You've had a rough night."

With that she kissed me on the forehead and turned off the bedside lamp. I smiled as she padded toward the door, and I drifted quickly in a world of dreams. I didn't even notice when Lesley closed the door, leaving just a crack to let in the light from the hall.

My dreams were filled with strange images. Lesley was so tall. Everything was tall. I felt like Jack in the giant's castle. Scents of chocolate chip cookies and fresh baked bread mingled with Lesley 's Chanel No. 5.

Lesley wore the outfit she had had on at dinner the night before. Around her waist she wore a crisp frilled apron. I stood looking up at her as she tended something on the stove, a large wooden spoon in her hand.

Lesley took notice of me and turned. Her face bore an expression that was half frown, half amusement.

"Just look at you," she said.

I looked down to see splotches of mud all over me. My knees were scraped and my hands were filthy. There was a large dark stain on the front of my shorts.

"That's what I get for sending you outside unsupervised," she sighed. Lesley grasped my shoulders and turned me around. Ushering me from the kitchen with a swat from the wooden spoon, she said, "Let's go see if there's a little boy under all that mud."

Once in the bathroom, Lesley started the bath water running. After adjusting it to her satisfaction, she lifted my arms up and pulled my shirt over my head. She knelt down to take off my shoes. A curious frown played across her lips as she removed my socks. She unbuttoned my shorts, and her frown grew deeper.

"This mud is mostly dry, but your shorts are soaked. Can you tell me why that is, hmm?"

I didn't know. The last thing I remembered was standing in the kitchen watching Lesley cook. A dozen tales of bullies and big dogs and puddles flashed through my head. All I could do was stand there shaking my head, my lower lip quivering.

Lesley pulled down my shorts, confirming what she already knew.

"And here I thought you were a big boy. Shame on you." She had a scowl on her face, but did I detect a hint of a smile in her tone?

Lesley skimmed down my underpants, picked me up, and plunked me down in the tub. She picked up my dirty clothes. When she got to the underpants, she made a face and gave me a sharp look.

I busied myself with the tub toys as Lesley gathered my things and put them in the hamper. I was making tidal waves crash over the boats when Lesley knelt down and pushed her sleeves up.

She dipped a washcloth in the water and soaped it heavily. She roughly applied it to my face and neck. I gasped and shook my head. Some suds got in my mouth, and I sputtered and spit to rid myself of the awful taste.

Lesley efficiently scoured me from head to toe. I did my best to ignore her and race my boats. She regained my full attention when she reached between my legs to wash my privates. I nearly jumped out of the tub when she pushed a finger back to scrub my bottom hole.

A quick shampoo and it was time to get out of the water. I begged to be allowed to play while Lesley snapped open an enormous towel. In a tone that brooked no argument, Lesley told me to stand up. She wrapped the towel around me, somehow gathering it up out of the water. She helped me out of the tub and onto the fluffy bath mat, where she briskly toweled me dry.

Lesley told me to wait right where it was as she rummaged through the closet. She emerged with a potty chair, which she set down in front of me.

"I want you to go potty before we get you dressed again," she said firmly.

"I'm too big to use that," I said.

"You're not too big to potty in your pants," she replied.

"I'm not gonna use that potty. I won't. I won't."

"Suit yourself," she said, picking me up again.

She carried me to the room I knew to be our guest room. When we entered, I saw it was decorated for a small boy. A single bed with a racing car bedspread was placed against the wall. A short rail hooked under the mattress.

A chest of drawers dominated another wall. There was a deep matching shelf mounted to the wall above. The chest was somewhat more than waist high on Lesley . I could not understand the purpose of the strap that ran from front to back across the top of the dresser.

Lesley set me down atop the bureau and reached up to the shelf. Her hand came down with a folded white cloth. I knew immediately what she intended.

"No!" I screamed.

Lesley simply laid me on my back. I flailed about, kicking.

"No! No! No! You can't! I'm a big boy!"

Lesley snatched up my ankles and gave a stiff smack to my still damp bottom. I quieted down immediately. I found out too what the strap was for when Lesley secured it about my middle.

"I can and I will," she stated.

"I gave you a chance to use the potty, Mr. Peepee Pants . Since you don't want to use the potty like a big boy, you must want to be in diapers like a baby. But I'm not going to have you ruining your clothes or, God forbid, my furniture."

"I'll use the potty. I'll go now. Please, I have to go potty."

Lesley pointedly ignored me. By this time, she already had the diaper under me and was smearing thick, sticky ointment on my bottom. She lowered my legs and coated my small, hairless penis and balls.

"I'll be good I'll use the potty. Please Mommy, I have to go!" Mommy? Where did that come from? This was Lesley , my wife.

She smiled down at me.

"Then we better get your diaper on before you play fireman," she chuckled, pulling the cloth between my legs.

She pinned the diaper snuggly and reached up to retrieve a plastic panty. Pink. Why did it have to be pink?

I started kicking again.

"I'm not a girl! I don't wanna wear pink! Don't put that on. I gotta go potty!"

A rap on my thigh and a finger pointed at my lips settled me down for the moment. Lesley pulled on the plastic pants and slipped them over my bulging bottom. She unfastened the strap and stood me up. After checking to see the diaper was safely encased in the protective panty, Lesley set me on the floor, gave a tap on the seat, and said, "There you go, Little One. All safe and dry."

I ran for the bathroom. The knob was high but within reach. I tried to turn it, but it wouldn't unlatch. Damn! I thought. Lesley 's been telling me to fix this door. I turned and turned the knob. I even kicked the door a couple of times. Then I suddenly put both hands to the front of the plastic pants and squeezed. Tears welled up, and I wailed, "Oh no!"

" Richard !" Lesley yelled.

I bolted up in the bed.

" Richard ! Look what you've done. I thought you were a grown man. First, last night, you wet your pants, because you were 'scay-ered.' Now, you've wet the bed. You're worse than a three-year-old. This bed is soaked."

I cringed under her onslaught. I couldn't say a word. I sat there on the rapidly cooling sheets thinking how right she was.

"Get up now. I've got to get this cleaned up before the mattress is ruined."

"I'll do it, Honey. It's ..."

"Don't 'Honey' me! Go in the bathroom and get out of those wet things. If you want to help, you can bring me some towels after you strip."

I went to the bathroom and put my wet things in the laundry. I gathered some towels and went back to the bedroom. Lesley was getting the last of the bedding off. An enormous wet stain gave proof to my shame.

Lesley took the towels and began blotting the mattress.

"I hope you didn't take all the towels. I'll have to clean you up next."

" No , Lesley . There are still some more."

"Good. Now, go back in there and sit on the toilet. I don't need any more accidents." She looked at the bed again.

"Though I can't imagine there's anything left."

I went back to the bathroom to wait.

And wait.

Lesley finally came in wearing her robe and threw her nightgown in the laundry. She started to run the bath.

"Don't you want to take a shower first, H..."

She gave me a cold stare.

"I'll get my shower. But first, I have to wash a dirty little boy."

I blushed so red I thought I'd light up the room.

"Did you potty?" she asked.

"No," I mumbled.

"I don't have to."

"Uh huh. Well, you had better not do anything in the tub."

I almost said something. This was just too much. But I figured it was best not to make waves.

Lesley bathed me quickly and efficiently. We had a small struggle when she insisted on washing my hair and got shampoo in my eyes. Her stern warning and a tap on my cheek settled me down.

She made me sit on the toilet while she showered. I watched her naked form through the frosted glass doors. She took a towel and dried herself in the shower. She came out wrapped in the towel picking up another to dry her hair. She asked again whether I "used the potty." I hadn't. She took note of how I was hunched over with my hands in my lap.

"What's the matter, Sweetie?" she asked.

"Does your tummy hurt?"

"No," I replied simply.

"Are you sure? You haven't made a poopie yet. I bet you'll feel much better if you do. Why don't you go ahead and try."

"No," I said as firmly as I could manage.

"I don't have to."

" Richard , you always make poopies in the morning. I've already had to clean you up twice with peepee accidents. I don't want to have to do it all over again with a poopie one."

I was mortified. She was treating me like a five-year-old who had forgotten his toilet training. Her words made my erection flag. There was no denying what I had done, but still....

"Okay, I'll try," I said.

I thought Lesley would leave to get dressed then. To my further humiliation she stood watching me, arms crossed. I turned an even brighter shade of red as I made an appearance of trying to void my bowels. I just couldn't bring myself to let loose in Lesley 's presence.

After a few minutes, Lesley decided nothing was going to happen.

"Oh, you poor thing. I see your problem now. You're constipated. We'll have to see what we can do about that later. Come along. It's time we got dressed.

Lesley took my hand and led me back to the bedroom. Instead of getting dressed herself, she went to my dresser. She pulled out a pair of my baggier shorts, a Mickey Mouse T-shirt we bought years ago on a trip to Disney World, a pair of tube socks I hadn't worn in ages, and white briefs rather than the colored ones I usually wore.

"There you are," she said, handing me the clothes.

"Go on; get dressed. I'll be with you in a few minutes."

I put on the ridiculous ensemble. My reflection in the mirror looked as silly as I felt. This was an outfit for a kid going to Disney .

Lesley poked her head around her closet door. Why don't you wear your canvas boat shoes? They'll look darling with that. And tuck your T-shirt in. I'll not have you going out looking like a slob. Then go downstairs and get yourself some breakfast. There's cereal in the cupboard. Don't make a mess."

Great, I thought. Could she have chosen anything to make me look more juvenile? And who where's knee socks anymore? I put on the shoes and tucked my shirt in. I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror on my way out the door. I silently moaned. Then it struck me. Going out? She can't be serious. That's just a figure of speech, right?

I went downstairs and looked through the cupboards. The only cereal we had was Fruit Loops, left over from when my nephew was here. I put the coffee on and fixed myself a bowl. While the coffee brewed, I sat down to eat. I thought the cereal was way too fruity and way to sweet. As I neared the end of the bowl, I was asking myself why we didn't keep this in the house more.

Lesley came in and poured herself a cup of coffee. I got up to fix one for myself. Lesley slapped my hand as I went to pick up the pot.

"No coffee for you, Mister."

"Ow! But I always have coffee in the morning."

"'But I always have coffee in the morning,'" she mocked my whining tone. She even stuck out her lower lip for good measure.

"I think after last night, you need to cut back on the coffee." I sulked as she got up from the table.

"Careful you don't trip over that lip," she said. I realized my own lip was sticking out, and I sucked it back quickly.

Lesley smiled as she went to the cupboard and pulled out a glass.

"We're out of orange juice," I said as she open ed the refrigerator. She shushed me as she busied herself. I could hear her pouring something, but I couldn't see it from my position. She emerged and set a large glass of milk in front of me.

"But Lesley , I hate milk."

It was less than a slap, but more than a tap. My cheek stung as I watched Lesley 's wagging finger.

"I know you're thirsty, and it's good for you. It'll make you grow up big and strong and keep your bones from getting brittle. Now, drink up, every drop."

I slowly drank my milk, detesting every swallow.

"Come, come now, Richard . I haven't got all day. Finish your milk, quickly now."

I downed the remainder of the glass as fast as I could - a little too fast. A small stream of milk dribbled out the corner of my mouth. Lesley shook her head at me when I put down the glass. She picked up her napkin and held it in front of my mouth, while her other hand cradled the back of my head. I looked at her, wondering what she was doing.

"Come on, spit," she said. I stared at her blankly. She shook the napkin to draw my attention to it.

"Spit."

It dawned on me what she meant. I couldn't believe it, but the look in her eyes confirmed how serious she was. I spit onto the napkin. She wiped my mouth and chin roughly, then brushed a stray droplet from the front of my shirt.

"Come along, Richard ," she said, standing up from the table and taking the breakfast dishes to the sink.

"We have shopping to do. You can wash up when we get home ."

"Okay. Just let me get dressed and we can go," I said.

"Dressed? You are dressed."

"I can't go out looking like this! Just let me go ..."

"You look fine. In fact, you're adorable. Now let's go."

I realized she did, in fact, intend to go out.

"Okay, just give me a minute to change, and we can be on our way."

"I said, come along, Richard . We have a great deal to do today. You are dressed just fine. You look very cute. Now, let's go."

Cute. I hadn't been "cute" in thirty years. Cute was the last thing I wanted to be. Handsome, yes. Sexy, of course. But cute? No, absolutely not.

Lesley grabbed my hand and was pulling me out the door before I knew what was happening.

" Lesley , can't I just ..."

" Now , Richard !"

I couldn't remember the last time Lesley spoke to me like that. She was in complete control of the situation. She would brook no argument.

We entered the garage and headed toward my car . Lesley snatched my wrist and pulled me away.

"We'll take my car today."

I shrugged. I always welcomed the opportunity to drive Lesley 's BMW. I put my free hand on the driver's door handle, and Lesley slapped it.

"Hey!" I cried.

"Not today. We have a lot to do, and we don't need to be making a bunch of your famous side trips. I'll drive."

"But I always drive."

"And don't whine."

"I'm not whining."

"Uh huh. Get in," she said coldly, pointing to the passenger side.

I walked around and got in the other side. I silently grumbled to myself and slammed the door. Lesley gave me a hard look. Okay. I liked to stop for a quick snack or poke around the computer shop while we were out. But that's just efficient time management. Right? I crossed my arms as Lesley backed out of the garage.

I couldn't help noticing how sharp Lesley looked. To describe, her outfit didn't seem all that remarkable. White blouse, straight calf length, navy skirt, matching cardigan. Casual and feminine. But the two inch pumps, short pearl necklace, and the French twist into which she put her hair lent an air of sophistication that made me all the more aware of my own attire. I stole fleeting glances at her from the corner of my eye, while I tried to maintain a look that showed my displeasure at how the morning was going.

Our short drive ended at the mall. Definitely not my favorite place to spend a Saturday. We got out of the care and started toward the entrance. Lesley was several yards ahead when she turned around. She stalked back to me. She gave a sharp smack to my backside and snatched up my wrist.

"Don't dawdle."

I quickly scanned the parking lot for familiar faces, praying nobody noticed. I glared at Lesley all the way to the doors.

The mall bustled with a crowd of upscale consumers. Sax Fifth Avenue anchored one end, Lord & Taylor the other. Gucci displayed its treasures in the middle. The shoppers dressed casually but smartly, making me acutely aware of my own costume.

Lesley released my wrist and turned me to face her. She looked me over and smoothed a stray hair down on my head. Satisfied, she addressed me, "I know you get bored when I'm shopping, and I don't want you whining and making things difficult." I open ed my mouth, but she held up a finger.

"So I want you to go down to the computer store and look around. I know that will keep you busy for quite a while. If you get thirsty, you may go to the food court and have lemonade or something, but nothing with caffeine. And don't eat anything. I don't want you spoiling your lunch with a bunch of junk food. Understand?"

I blushed and prayed nobody was hearing this conversation.

"Yes, Lesley ," I all but moaned.

"Good boy. Now, scoot. I have things to do."

She gave me a gentle swat on the behind, sending me on my way. I wandered down the wide hall, glancing in the shops. I saw a suit that looked nice . I made a mental note to come back.

I found my way to Babbage 's. I liked coming to this one. It was large and kept its stock current. I browsed through the new offerings, figuring out which ones I would like best and what upgrades I might have to do to make them run fast. I'm not a big fan of video games , but the demo that was playing looked like a lot of fun. I tried it out and ended up spending quite a long time playing against the 10 year old boy who wandered up to have a look. He was dressed much like me, but more fashionably. I probably would not have spent so much time playing, but I wanted to win at least one game. I didn't.

I looked at my watch and was started to see I had been in the shop for the better part of two hours. I figured I had better go down to the food court in case Lesley was looking for me. I got there and saw she was nowhere to be found. I decided to have that drink.

I remembered Lesley 's admonition, and lemonade did sound good. I went over to the corndog stand - They always made the best lemonade - and ordered large one. I also ordered a corndog. I was getting hungry, and I knew one would only take the edge off and still leave plenty of room.

I put a bead of mustard along the corndog and took it and the lemonade to the first empty table I could find. The lemonade was cool and not too sweet. It really hit the spot. I gobbled down the corndog as fast as I could. I didn't need another argument with Lesley .

I sucked down the rest of the lemonade and took my trash to the bin. I pushed it through the slot and brushed away a couple of crumbs from my shirt. Damn! I must have had mustard on my fingers. Maybe Lesley wouldn't notice.

I looked around. Still no sign of her. I decided to head back toward Sax. Along the way I saw that suit again. I went in for a better look. It was beautifully cut grey, with just a hint of a pinstripe. The wool was soft as butter. This was definitely on my list. I looked at the price and confirmed my good taste. It would require some time to justify it to myself.

I left the clothier and continued on to Sax. I looked around the fragrance islands and through the women 's department. No Lesley . I moved on to lingerie.

"May I help you?" a voice came from behind me.

I turned sharply. I may have jumped.

"Uh ... No, thank you. I was just looking for someone." What is it about the lingerie department that makes a man as nervous as a cat?

She sales lady looked me up and down.

"Mm Hmm," she murmured with a tone that implied she didn't believe me.

"Well, if I can help you find anything, please let me know."

"Thank you," I said, and I beat a hasty retreat.

Lesley must have gone on to another store. I made my way back down the mall, peering into shops I knew she frequented. Still, I did not find her. Finally, arriving back at the food court, I spotted her on the far side. She was looking about, craning her neck and standing on tiptoe. Our eyes met, and hers turned to steel. We approached each other on the perimeter of the tables.

"Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you," she barked.

"Honey, please. I was just looking for you too." I kept my voice to just above a whisper, hoping she would lower hers. Several people nearby had stopped eating to watch.

"I told you, you could go to computer store and then come here. I did not give you permission to go gallivanting all over the mall without me. How was I to know where you were? I was worried sick!"

I shrank. She sounded more like my mother than my wife. More people were staring, the men looking embarrassed for me, the women not hiding their amusement.

"And what's this?" She pointed to the mustard stain on my shirt.

"I told you not to eat anything; you'd spoil your lunch."

"Err ..." I said, thinking as fast as I could.

"Um, some kid bumped into me."

"Oh, really," she said flatly. I turned cold.

"I suppose he bumped into your mouth too."

"Huh?"

She open ed her purse and pulled out a tissue.

"Spit."

I knew what she wanted this time. I peeked at the onlookers who were trying not to giggle. I spit on the tissue with as much dignity as I could muster. Lesley wiped the corner of my mouth and held the tissue up for my inspection. A bright yellow streak was unmistakable.

"Well ... See ..."

"We'll discuss this later. Come along."

She started off. At least, she didn't pull me along by the hand this time.

"Where are we going?"

" Home ."

" Home ? Didn't you find anything you liked?" I asked, as she had no bags.

"I did. I put them in the trunk before I had to go traipsing after you."

"Oh," I said, not feeling any better that this trip was nearly over.

The palpable silence of the ride home ended when Lesley slammed her door shut. I slowly got out on my side.

"Go to your room." Her voice nearly shook with anger.

" Lesley ..."

"Not a word. Go. I'll be with you as soon as I put the things I bought away."

I slunk past her. I don't know why, but I felt that if I made one false move, she would slap me. I continued to the bedroom and waited there as minute after minute went by. I thought and thought of what excuse I could give Lesley to explain why I had that corndog then tried to hide it.

The more I thought about it the more indignant I became. I'm a grown man, after all. I can have a corndog when I feel like it. I had just decided to go out and tell her just that when she walked in.

My bravado sank even faster than my stomach when I saw the look on her face. Lesley was livid.

"How dare you? You stood there and lied to my face. You actually stood there with mustard all over your face and told me a little boy bumped into you. It's bad enough that you disobeyed me. But to lie about it? When you are covered with the evidence? I'd say the only little boy is the one I'm looking at right now. Your five year old nephew wouldn't even try that one. What have you got to say for yourself? Anything? Come on, let's hear it. This had better be good."

"Well ... I was kinda hungry ... uh ... and you said ... but it was just one ... and I thought ..."

"You thought? You thought? Oh, really. Just what did you think, little man?"

"I ...uh ... thought one little corndog wouldn't hurt my appetite ..."

"You thought what I didn't know wouldn't hurt you. That's what you thought. Isn't it?

I shifted uncomfortably. I shook. I couldn't look her in the eye. I already knew I was caught, but now I felt like it. I felt guilty and embarrassed. I felt ashamed. The emotions were powerful. But still I couldn't admit it.

"Isn't it?"

A lump caught in my throat. It was the words piling up there. Part of me wanting to let them pour out, another part wanting to maintain my pride and force them down. I trembled as I nodded, never taking my eyes from the floor. I knew if I looked at Lesley , I would break down in tears.

"You knew you weren't supposed to eat anything, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"But you did it anyway, didn't you?"

Nod.

"And you tried to keep it from me, didn't you?"

I bit my lip and nodded again.

"And you got caught, didn't you?"

I nodded again, fighting harder against the rising wetness in my eyes.

"And you lied to me, didn't you?"

Nodding, the first tear rolled down my cheek.

Lesley took my chin between her thumb and forefinger and forced me to look at her. Lesley's face was fuzzy around the edges due to the tears in my eyes, but there was no mistaking the determination in hers.

"You deliberately disobeyed me and made up that cock and bull story to cover your tracks, isn't that so?"

A sob escaped my lips and my nose started to run. Tears flowed freely. I squeaked something that we both knew meant "yes."

"You have been a very naughty boy, Richard , and I am very, very disappointed in you."

She could have cut my heart out with a dull knife. It would have hurt less.

"You're behavior today is absolutely unacceptable. Disobedience is one thing and certainly bad enough. But I will not have you lying to me. There is no excuse for that. Imagine. A supposedly grown man making up fibs when he gets caught like a three year old with his hand in the cookie jar. I'm very hurt that you felt you couldn't be honest with me."

I stood there feeling smaller and smaller, hoping that I would actually shrink and disappear. I wept freely. Why, oh why, did I do it? "I'm sorry," I squeaked.

"Sorry you got caught you mean. Something is going to have to be done about this. I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish you, Richard. I can't have you lying to me. I just won't have it."

"Yes, Ma'am," I whimpered. I was ready to beg her to punish me, just to get it over with. It couldn't possibly be worse than the way I felt just then.

"Good boy," she said.

"Maybe you really are starting to feel sorry. I can assure you, though. By the time I am finished with you, you will be."

A chill ran through me Yet, I felt better hearing that tiny bit of praise.

"Go to the corner and wait there. I'll be right back."

I would have run to the corner had the distance not been so short. I soon heard water running in the bathroom. I few minutes later, I heard Lesley 's footsteps behind me.

"Pants down. I want to have a look while it's still pale pink."

I knew she wanted my bottom bare. I did not waste time trying to leave my underpants in place. I sled them down with my shorts. As soon as I did, Lesley landed a stinging swat. I shot upright, my mouth agape. She reached around and shoved the well-lathered bar of soap right into my mouth.

"You can stay like that for a few minutes and think about how bad a lie should taste. Don't you dare take it out of your mouth, or it will be your lunch."

I stood there doing my best to keep my tongue away form the soap. I sure didn't want to swallow any. It started to slip and I clamped down with my teeth. I got a good taste and had to fight gagging. The saliva I dared not swallow flowed out of my mouth around the bar. Pretty soon, I had foamy goatee dripping onto my shirt.

My shirt was quite damp, and I was quite miserable when Lesley came back.

"Alright, I think you've learned that part of your lesson. You were a very good boy for holding it so long, though it looks like I should have gotten a bib on you first." I'm not sure if my moan was out loud or just in my head.

"I think it would be best if you spit that out in the sink. Go on now."

I shuffled to the bathroom, my shorts bunched around my knees. Lesley followed. I would have sworn I heard her giggle. I spat out the bar, and I thought for sure I would loose the corndog along with it. I avoided vomiting but not without swallowing some suds. I grabbed a paper cup from the holder and started to fill it. Lesley gently but quickly took it from my hand.

"No. I think you should wait till after the next part of your punishment is over before you rinse. It will help you remember. Now, back to the bedroom. Scoot." She gave me another swat.

Lesley passed me as we entered the bedroom again. She sat down on her vanity chair. I stopped in front of her and waited for the spanking I knew was coming. Lesley reached over to the vanity. I thought she was getting her hairbrush. Instead she unfolded a disposable diaper on her lap. It was huge.

Lesley looked up and saw I was staring at her lap.

"I see you are wondering about this," she said rustling the diaper.

"I bought these while you were at the computer store ...or maybe while you were having your little snack."

I winced.

"I thought they might come in handy for the little problem you've been having."

My shame deepened, and my face flushed with embarrassment.

"And I don't need any accidents ruing my skirt."

I groaned as she added to my humiliation. I watched her reach toward the vanity again. This time she did pick up the hairbrush.

"Come on then. I think you know what comes next."

I did. Resigned to my fate and needing Lesley 's forgiveness, I laid myself across her diaper protected lap. She slid her hand under me to make sure I was arranged to maximize the effectiveness if the diaper in the event I failed to control my bladder. She hitched up my t-shirt above the small of my back and wrapped her arm around my waist. The remnants of the soap in my teeth continued to melt while I steeled myself for what was to come.

"It hurts me deeply that I have to do this. I aim to impress upon you just how much it hurts. Don't be afraid to cry, because I won't be stopping until I'm sure you are sincerely sorry. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Ma'am," I uttered, a bit of foam leaking out.

"Good."

WHACK.

I gasped. Lesley 's onslaught began. It was hard from the very first spank. Smack after smack rained down on my bottom. It didn't take long before I was crying hard, pleading my sorrow. Apologies bubbled from my mouth, while soap bubbles fell to the floor. Over and over she recounted my crimes: eating when I was told not to, not staying where I belonged. Lying! She punctuated her words with sharp smacks to my bottom. Fire burned in the spot where I sit. I knew I would not be using it for a while. It went on and on.

"You will learn, little boy, that when Mommy tells you to do something you will do it. And if Mommy says no, she means no."

"Yes Mommy. I understand Mommy. I'm sorry Mommy. Please Mommy, no more. I'll be good," I sobbed and begged and pleaded.

The end was as sudden and the beginning. The sudden stop only drew attention to the deep sting in my lower cheeks and along the backs of my legs. Tears and snot and soap suds mingled in little puddles beneath my face. I lay limp over Lesley 's lap.

"SSSShhhhhhhhhhh. That's it let it out. Mommy loves you. I know you're sorry. And I know you are a good boy. You just need a reminder to help you be good sometimes, don't you?'

I nodded, too much a wreck to speak.

Lesley let me cry myself out. She rubbed my back and gently stroked my bruised bottom. All the while telling me how much she loved me and praising me for accepting my punishment like a big boy. When I calmed sufficiently, she helped me to my feet.

"Looks like I had better get another one of these before I put you down for a nap," she said.

I looked down and, to my shame, saw the yellow stain on the diaper. I blushed from head to foot and lowered my head. But Lesley reassured me.

"It's okay, Honey. I know you couldn't help it. That was a hard spanking, and you haven't used the potty since we left this morning. Why don't you go rinse your mouth out while I get things ready for your nap?"

I nodded weakly and walked to the bathroom. Halfway there I realized I was walking. I must have kicked my shorts of during the spanking. I rinsed my mouth again and again. At times, I wasn't sure if it was making it better or worse. When I felt I had done as well as I was going to, I went back to the bedroom. I found the bed turned down and a diaper waiting for me. I stared at it.

"Go ahead and lie down, Sweetie. I just want to be certain there aren't any repeat performances. You can understand that, can't you?" she asked sweetly.

"I guess," I said, lying down and positioning myself on the waiting pad.

"That's my good boy," she said, smiling as she pulled the diaper up between my legs.

"You'll sleep better knowing you won't wet the bed this way."

I don't know if I was tired or her logic was flawless, but I couldn't argue with it. Lesley slipped off her skirt blouse and hose and climbed into bed beside me. She cradled my head and stroked my hair.

"All is forgiven now, my sweet little man," she whispered.

"Just to show you, Mommy has a treat for you."

She open ed her bra and slipped her nipple between my lips. I began sucking without thinking. I really was exhausted from the whole experience. It wasn't till I woke up that I realized Lesley had been wearing a nursing bra.

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