Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 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
<!--ADULTSONLY--> 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had gotten himself until he wagered and lost $1,000 he had withdrawn from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  The last $1,000 withdrawn was gambled to
make up for the lost $500 withdrawn a month earlier.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advise Sandra that Alex had withdrawn the large sum of cash.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."