Noble Julie, a tale by annie

Julie looked over at Neil. He was,she knew,tense and unhappy. He had problems at work with one of his superiors and was feeling cowed and emasculated. For some days now he had been subdued and moody at home,and nothing she could do could lighten his mood. Sex was on hold with all other recreation and it was getting to her. She understood the nature of the conflict in which he was involved and sympathised,but to no avail. The Stygian atmosphere persisted and she was at her wits' end. She finished her washing up and went into the sitting room,where he was watching television without interest. "I've finished the washing up,Sir."

"You can watch TV for a bit,then." She took her place on a cushion at his feet. Gloomily,she pondered the situation. He was hardly bothered with anything now-shortcomings which would have earned her a spanking or worse were not noticed,let alone condoned. She reflected that she almost missed the spankings;the strappings and canings too, even. True,they hurt like hell and,when he was disposed to administer these beatings,she did her level best to avoid them. While they took place she'd give anything for them to stop-he always made her cry at the very least,and more-but they gave a frisson of fear and excitement to their life together, which,she was at pains to admit to herself, she was missing. She recalled her pride at the stripes of the cane,the less artistic,shapeless marks of the strap,gym shoe and his hand,drawn lividly on her bottom,which she offered willingly and without complaint to be hurt as much he chose. She positively ached for the passionate sexual reconciliations which followed her punishments,where he mastered her and showed his love for her. She also thought of him,and how changed he was. His masculine pride was crushed:poor Neil,he could hardly bring himself to master her any more. She also thought he was rather like a small boy who,having lost a fight in the playground in front of the girls,was unsure how to reassert himself with them. She smiled slightly and a plan took shape in her mind. Neil was hurt and insecure because of it-what could she do? The conflict was in a theatre where she,the submissive housewife,had no presence. Sacrifices had to be made on her part,as only a woman could make. She stood up.

"Neil."

He sat back,unaccustomed to being addressed as such in private by her. "What did you say?"

"I said Neil."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"No."

"Don't start,darling,I'm fed up as it is." She hesitated:the next part required all her courage.

"You're fed up because.......,"she drew in her breath and said"you're a wanker."

"What?" "You're fucking wanker. That's why you're fed up,"she said calmly. He stared at at her in amazement. Gradually it sank in.

"Julie, if you speak to me like that, I'll have to punish you...severely too."

"I don't think you've got it in you." A fortnight ago she would have been heading for the study for the first insult,now he had taken three without riposte,she saw. But she was confident of the outcome of her plan.

"What does that mean?"

"You're not man enough to do it." She hoped she had not gone too far and caused the reverse effect to that which she sought. She saw,as so often before,anger rise in his face,followed by the softening of his expression as he mastered it;anger never came into his decision to punish her.He stood up and,looking her in the face,said calmly:

"We'll see about that. Follow me." She went out of the sitting room,through the door which he held open for her;so far so good. He led her down the corridor to the study,which meant certain use of the cane,and she began to doubt her decision. Should she tell him that she had insulted him to rouse him from his despondency,primarily for his own good? She had expected and,in a way,wanted to be punished,but not the cane. Thoughts raced in her head and her heart pounded as she followed him the short distance. If she told him why she had done what she had done,it would devastate him. There was no going back. She went into the study through the door which again was held open for her. He was always so courteous when about to punish her. Once inside,she locked the door,took the cane from the cupboard and handed it to him,curtsying as she did so. He gazed at her.

"Anything to say?"

"I'm sorry,Sir..really sorry...please don't do it too hard,Sir,"tears welling in her eyes.

"I shall do it as hard as I think fit." "Yes, Sir ,thank you." "Bend over."

She went to the desk and hitched up her short summer dress. Slowly and unsteadily,she pulled her knickers below her stocking tops,undid her suspender straps and tucked them under the belt to allow the cane to strike her upper thigh unimpeded. As she bent over,she wondered how she had almost wanted this to happen a few minutes ago: now she would give anything to secure her release. Knowing it was forbidden,she turned briefly to look at him and,in doing so,was glad to see a bulge in his trousers.

"That'll get you an extra stroke." "Yes, Sir." She placed herself across the desk,reflecting how unfair but how much in the natural order it all was. She gripped the sides of the desk.

Some time later in the mirror, she examined the nine livid weals across her bottom. There were four weals across her upper thigh,where she had taken the extra stroke. The pain,still intense,was receding and the sensation of nausea,as always, giving way to exhilaration. Proudly and humbly, she went to join him in the bedroom. The plan had worked.

The End Copyright © annie