I’ve written couple of fictional short stories for the www.overthedesk.com website, but I would like to share with you a true recollection that happened a few years ago.

It was late summer and I had a business meeting in central London. My wife wanted to come with me so she could go shopping for a new dress to wear at a friend’s wedding in a few weeks hence. Of course, I agreed but explained that I would need to attend the meeting first.

Things didn’t go well from the start. I took a while to find somewhere to park, my meeting overran, etc, etc.

My wife became more and more impatient with the situation, so I was somewhat relieved when we finally hit the shops in the West End around lunchtime, but my wife’s mood did not improve. She was being smart with me and with well-meaning sales assistants. Then, to cap it all, she was very sarcastic to her mother on the phone, for no real reason other than her shopping time had been reduced due to my over-running meeting.

I should explain at this stage that Ingrid (not her real name) is my second wife and fourteen years younger than me, and she is Scandinavian. She is well versed in the ‘English Vice’ as I made it clear from the beginning that I wanted spanking to be part of our married life, to which she readily agreed. At the time, I hadn’t spanked her for a couple of months, but with her behaviour that morning I decided I was going to remedy that situation very soon!

I was still trying to save something from the day, though, and suggested we have afternoon tea at my club, a short walk away. Ingrid grudgingly agreed. When we arrived, we were told that because of some building work being undertaken in the main dining room, we would be served tea in one of the private dining rooms on the first floor. On hearing this news, Ingrid rolled her eyes and huffed loudly, then stomped her way up the stairs with me.

I was furious with her for embarrassing me in front of the waiting staff, but said nothing. We sat in silence until our tea, cucumber sandwiches and cake arrived. As soon as we were alone, I got up and closed the door. Ingrid was looking nervous now and started to apologize.

“Too late, Madam,” I hissed at her.

I took her by the elbow and walked her a few steps to a vacant two-seater sofa next to us.

“Sorry, darling,” she pleaded when she realised what was going to happen. “Not here, please. What if someone comes in?”

Ingrid was wearing a long white lace summer dress, a wide-brimmed straw hat, a short navy-blue blazer style jacket and some nude-coloured sandals. She had red lipstick and her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. She looked amazing, if somewhat alarmed.

“Let’s be quick then,” was all I could think of to say.

I pulled her over my lap, lifted her dress up around her waist in one swift movement, then lowered her plain white knickers to her knees. What followed was the quickest, hardest, hand spanking I have ever administered. She kept silent for as long as she could, but was soon emitting regular owws and ouches in increasing volume.

Her pale bottom soon turned fiery red, and so I finished her off with a few very hard smacks, then helped her up. She quickly pulled her knickers up and retrieved her hat that had fallen off during the proceedings. As she was doing so, the door opened and a waiter enquired if everything was to our satisfaction.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied. “All very satisfactory.”

I often wonder if the staff overheard what was going on, but, as I said, there was some noisy building work going on at the time, and we were quite a way from the main traffic areas of the club.

Ingrid is convinced the waiter did hear something as she says he always gives her a knowing look when she dines there without me.

You will be pleased to hear that later that day I bought Ingrid a lovely dress and some flowers!

PF