Author: Jack Crawford
Title: One For The Ponies
Summary: A husband bets their savings at the horse track and must submit to his wife or she'll leave him. He gets a butt whipping that will make him think twice the next time he thinks about betting on the horses!
Keywords: dom, FM, humil, fd, spank, exhib
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Copyright: 2010


It was becoming a constant in his life, and unfortunate constant. Alex Chandler was a fairly successful salesman, but during the racing season, his success diminished markedly. He often spent the afternoons at the track betting on the horses. For a while he had been quite lucky. At first, a bad day was just breaking even, but over the past several weeks, a good day was just breaking even.

As Alex lost, he pressed harder the next day to recover his earlier loss. This only made matters worse, but he had failed to see how deep he had gotten himself until he wagered and lost $1,000 he had withdrawn from his savings account.

Actually, it was a joint account with his wife, and in reality, he had lost $1,500 from that account. The last $1,000 withdrawn was gambled to make up for the lost $500 withdrawn a month earlier.

Normally, Alex could skim cash from his commission checks and his wife Sandra would know nothing about it. For a long time he played on his winnings, but then he had to dig deeper into the commissions until it had become noticeable to his wife. And when Sandra saw the $500 withdrawal she had really been steamed! Her threats of dire consequences went in one ear and out the other because Alex knew, really knew, that his luck was about to change.

It didn't.

The savings account statement won't get to the house for another couple of weeks, he thought to himself as he drove home in a morose torpor. Sullenly, he considered his options, knowing how upset his wife would be when Sandra found out. C'mon, Alex ... it's IF she finds out! he corrected himself.

She did find out.

Sandra had been deeply concerned about Alex's behavior, noticing the size of his commissions dwindling, then she knew they had a real problem when the first savings withdrawal had been made. A friend at the bank kept an eye on their account for her and had called earlier that afternoon to advise Sandra that Alex had withdrawn the large sum of cash.

Alex was immediately caught off guard as he entered their home from the garage. Sandra had heard the garage door open and was waiting for him. As he stepped through the door, his wife barked an order at him that was so sharp he jumped. "Empty your pockets right now, Alexander!" she hollered.

He was so stunned that he absentmindedly removed the racing form from his jacket pocket. Sandra snatched out of his hand and shook it at him. "Just as I thought! You've been to the track again! And, where did you get the cash to bet?" she demanded.

Alex stammered and attempted to find a plausible explanation, but there was none. Allowing him to stumble briefly for a moment, Sandra answered for him and Alex's heart sank. "I'll tell you where, Alexander," she continued to wag the racing form in front of his face, "You robbed our savings account again!"
Numbed by the realization that he had been caught, Alex flopped down onto the sofa and began reeling off a long winded apology promising never to go back to the track again. Sandra stood in front of him, towering over her husband with her arms crossed and a deadly earnest look in her eye.  As Alex's rambling promises began to slow down, she cut him off. "Are you quite finished?"

He nodded absently, waiting for the inevitable emotional lecture that he knew he was going to have to suffer. But, it didn't come. Instead, Sandra stood looking at him, eyes boring into his skull as she calmly announced that Alex had a decision to make.

"Alexander," God! he hated it when she called him that. She only called him 'Alexander' when she was really upset. "You have a decision to make," she told him calmly, yet with a cold hardness that shook the last of his confidence. "I will not tolerate a husband who steals from his family as you have and who has a horrible, awful habit like gambling. I will not tolerate it, do you understand?!?" Alex studied the floor as the rhetorical question hung icily in the air.

"I have determined that you will either submit to a behavior modification program that I will enforce or you and I are finished ... divorced!" Alex looked up, stunned that Sandra would even threaten such an action. He started to speak, but she stopped him cold. "NOT ... A ... WORD!" she snarled and he kept quiet, again suddenly interested in the carpet.

"You have a decision to make now. Divorce, or you submit to my total control and behavior modification plan. And, believe me, you are NOT going to want to stray from the straight and narrow in the future if you decide we will stay married! I'll be in the bedroom. When you have decided you  can come in to pack your clothes or to ask for your punishment." She turned on her heel and started to leave.

"What punishment?" asked the startled Alex.

Calling out over her shoulder without breaking stride, his wife answered, "The punishment that all naughty little boys receive and you won't like it one bit, Alexander!"

Does she mean to spank me? he asked himself. Then, as if answering his own question he thought, What difference does it make? I love Sandra and I don't want a divorce. As he sat wondering if she was serious, Alex suddenly realized just how guilty he felt. Finally, he knew he had a problem and his wife was willing to help him. He felt even worse as he began to understand just how much grief he had to have caused Sandra.

Before he could lose his nerve, knowing how well he could rationalize his problem, Alex bolted off the sofa and hurried into their bedroom. Sandra was sitting up in the bed, reading a paperback which she put aside to concentrate on what Alex had to say.

"Sandra, I really am sorry," he apologized, "I have a problem with this gambling thing and should have recognized it earlier. Honey, I don't want to lose you. I ... I'll ... uh ... do anything you say. Just please don't leave me!"

Calmly, Sandra explained the seriousness of her intent. "Alexander, I want you to have a chance to back out. You should know that I intend to punish you. More accurately, I intend to spank you until you won't consider sitting in the bleachers at the track, and I intend to spank you anytime  you do something that deserves correction. That is anytime, you need to understand that."

"Okay, Honey," he agreed, nodding his head.

"Not so fast," she cautioned. "These won't be spankings you will enjoy by any stretch of the imagination. I intend to blister your ass good, so that you won't want to act up again. And, anytime you won't take a spanking, you are free to leave and we'll divorce. If you don't think you can take what I have to dish out, but want some help, I'll be happy to restrain you so that you can take your punishment." She paused to let the full l implications of her comments sink in. "Do you still want to go through with this?"

"Yes, Honey," he said quietly, "I feel just awful, now that I know what I've been caught up in. If you don't help me break this habit, I'll probably end up dead when I can't cover some bet with a bookie." He looked up and grinned sheepishly at her, "I guess I'd rather be red than dead."

Sandra laughed. "I hope you can keep that sense of humor, Alex," she said as she got off the bed. "We might as well get started right now." Then, the tone of her voice steeled as she ordered, "Strip!"

Now resigned to his fate, Alex meekly complied, shedding all of his clothes to lie in a heap at the foot of the bed. "I don't want to confuse issues," announced Sandra, "but, leaving your clothes in little piles around the bedroom will stop in the future. Tonight, you are being punished for gambling." Sandra grasped her husband by his upper arm and propelled him into the large master bathroom.

Sandra pulled out the vanity stool, seating herself as she pulled Alex over her lap. She drew lazy circles all over his upraised bottom as she appraised her husband. At 28 years of age, he was still in his prime and was quite active. His 5'10" frame had hardly an ounce of fat and was firmly muscled. She shook her head realizing how much like a little boy Alex looked in this position and how much he had acted like a little boy.

Four years older than her husband, Sandra had the maturity to put her plan into action. She wasn't much smaller than Alex, although she weighed much less. Her own exercise program and twice weekly tennis matches kept her in good shape. Her right arm was well conditioned to mete out the punishment that her brat of a husband so richly deserved.

"Honey, what are you waiting for?" Alex asked. "This is kind of embarrassing, can't we get it over with?"

"You won't be so anxious for me to continue in a few minutes, young man!" she exclaimed, giving him several hard swats to the fullest part of his bottom cheeks. "And if you think this is embarrassing, go to the track again, and I'll have your sister come over and help me spank you next time!"

"My sister!?" A quick flurry a spanks interrupted him as Sandra furiously spanked his exposed bottom with zeal.

"Yes," SPANK, SWAT, "You're sister!" SLAP, SPANK! "Or perhaps our neighbor Anne would help out." Her spanking continued and Alex decided to drop the subject and submit to the spanking. No reason to give her any encouragement to do this in front of another woman. Wouldn't THAT be humiliating?

The hand spanking continued and Alex began to squirm a little as his bottom heated to an uncomfortable stage. Initially, he had been somewhat excited to be lying across Sandra's lap, his manhood nestled into the soft skin of her thighs. He loved the shorts she had on, the really showed off her legs and her cute ass! But, now, his mind was on his own backside, which was getting more attention than he really wanted.

Sandra also was lost in a reverie as she spanked her naughty husband. She too had conflicting emotions. His bare bottom danced and colored as she smacked it hard with repeated swats and, she admitted to herself, it was kind of sexy! More important, however, was the satisfaction that she was receiving by punishing her deceiving mate. She put more energy into the next dozen strokes and delighted at how Alex wriggled on her lap. I'm getting through to him, she thought. But, I've only started.

She paused and Alex congratulated her. "Wow! That was some spanking, Honey. You really burned me up!" he said as he started to rise.

He was firmly pushed back into place. "I've only started, Alexander," she admonished. "The only reason I stopped was so I could reach behind me a pick up my hairbrush."

"No!" he pleaded, "You've already spanked my. Don't use a hairbrush now!"

"Silence!" she ordered, punctuating the command with a sharp smack with the back of her hairbrush. The spank elicited a loud yelp from her husband and Sandra thrilled at the sound of his yelp and the feelings of power that coursed through her body.

Tightening her grip around his waist, Sandra leaned into her task with commitment and vigor. The heavy maple hairbrush rained down with a savage rhythm, leaving dark red, angry oval splotches  all over his already crimson behind.

Alex tried to take the hairbrush spanking stoically, but after four or five hard swats, he began to plead for leniency. His pleas only encouraged Sandra to continue in earnest and soon his legs were kicking and his body was twisting in a vain effort to avoid the searing pain delivered by the hairbrush. Sandra moved her right leg to clamp down and across his kicking legs. Once his legs were pinioned Alex tried to reach behind and cover his steaming bottom with his right hand. Sandra grasped it with her left hand and pinned in painfully to the small of his back.

Realizing that Alex could not possibly escape, Sandra stopped to deliver a brief, but intense lecture about the evils of gambling and what the consequences were. Then she resumed drumming the lesson into his tortured bottom. She worked hard and a thin line of sweat was forming at her brow and on her upper lip.

Alex was sweating also ... sweating bullets! No matter how he tried he could not escape the vice like grip his wife held him with. Begging and pleading for forgiveness, promising the moon and the stars, he still had to suffer the awful spanks from the hairbrush. His eyes filled with tears and he finally ceased struggling and fell limp over his wife's lap.

That's when she stopped spanking him with the large oval hairbrush. Sandra set it down on the counter and let her husband lie sobbing over her lap for a few moments. He was still blubbering and sputtering his apologies when she helped him up and walked him to the far corner of the bedroom.

"Push your nose in the corner, Alexander," she ordered, "Just like all bad boys do. Hands at your side so I can see your bright red bottom. And, don't move a muscle until I give you permission. You think about the kind of behavior you are going to exhibit in the future, but know this --- we aren't finished yet, tonight."

A cold chill ran down Alex's spine with that final threat. Not finished? How can I take any more, he thought sniffling to himself. Alex stood in the corner for 15 minutes, but it felt like an hour to him. Sandra had reclined on the bed and watched her husband display her handiwork. The dark spots from the hairbrush were beginning to turn dark and in some spots a little purple. She knew it had to hurt, and one part of her felt a great deal of sympathy for her punished husband while another part was almost satisfied with a job well done.
She stood and approached Alex, letting her hand roam his sensitive bottom. He jumped at her initial touch and Sandra could see the gooseflesh spread as her husband shivered. She leaned close and whispered into his ear, "You have more to go, Alexander."

"Please, Sandra," he begged, "I can't take any more!"

"But you have to," she countered.

"I can't!"

"I'll tie you down or you can start packing. Which shall it be?" she asked firmly.

He hesitated briefly, then knowing he deserved what he was getting, and fearful of the consequences of not continuing, he answered, "I can't stay still for any more. You better tie me up."

"If that's what you want, Alexander," she agreed. Then, patting his bottom just to tease him a bit, she instructed him, "Get on the bed. On your hands and knees with your head on the bed." She watched as he scurried to comply. Satisfied that he was where she wanted him, she disappeared into the large walk in closet and returned with several of his neck ties.

She looped a tie around his right wrist then tied it securely to his right leg, just at the knee.  She repeated the process on the left side, the tied each ankle to its corresponding bed post. Again, she disappeared into the closet and returned with a long, wicked looking riding crop.

"One stoke of the riding crop for every hundred dollars out of the savings account," she announced to her husband as he turned his head, eyes widened with fear. Sandra slapped her thigh lightly with the crop and jumped. "Wow, that stings! What a terrible thing to use on horses!" she remarked. "But, how appropriate to use on you in this case."

"Sandra, please! Please don't use that thing on me!" her husband begged.

Her answer was a simple, "I believe the count is 15." Her arm swung back and snapped forward, the crop hissing angrily in the air until it snapped viciously across the fullness of his upraised bottom.

"YYEEEOOWW!!"

"Fourteen to go." HIISSSSSSSNNAAPPP!

"Oh, God! Don't do that again, Sandra!" Then as he watched her arm swing back for another stroke he screamed, "SANDRA! PLEEEEOOOOWWWW!" Alex began to cry vigorously as he continued to plead. She gave him three more cruel cuts in quick succession, each time he tried to beg or plead, another stroke cut into him cutting off his pleading, making him scream in agony.

She paused. "Only nine more to go, Alexander. Any thoughts of going back to the track?"

"OH! Not at all, honey. Please stop. I'll never even look at another horse again!"

She gave him three more quick and nasty strokes, criss-crossing earlier lines that were already clearly visible against the purple and red patina of his bottom. As his pleading subsided, Sandra said, "That's good to hear, Alex, because next time you'll get a stroke with this riding crop for EVERY..." SNAPP! "Single..." SWITCH!! "Dollar..." CRACKKKK!!! "You bet!"

Alex was bawling like a baby. Heavy sobs racked his body and he had some difficulty breathing given his punished bottom and the position he was in on their bed. "Only three more," Sandra said in a deceptively soothing voice as she took careful aim. The crop bit feverishly into that tender junction between bottom and thigh and Alex's sobbing doubled. He began to hop as best he could on his knees, trying to relieve the pain. 

The next cut was slightly lower at the tops of his thighs and Alex howled mightily. It was nothing, however, compared to the last stroke which assailed the backs of his thighs about half way down to his knees.

Alex lay whimpering as Sandra removed the ties and allowed him to stretch himself out fully. It hurt Alex to move and he was fearful of having to turn over and put any weight on his bottom, or his thighs! Sandra sat on the bed and Alex laid his head on her lap. She stroked his hair and waited for him to calm down.

"All is forgiven, Alex," she told him, "But, not forgotten. I especially hope you don't forget, because I won't hesitate a moment to take you back over my knee if you act up again."

"I know, Honey," he said. "I know."
