Old-Fashioned Values Read Online Free Page B

didn’t want it like that right then, if you know what I mean.”
    “Would you…?”
    “No, of course not,” Mark said. “If we go ahead with this I think you’ll find that you may ask me to punish you more severely when I think you need it.”
    Sally shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
    Mark looked steadily into her eyes, the same gentle smile on his face. “Well,” he said, “time to decide.”
    At that moment, Sally did feel like her life was about to take a dramatic step forward. She couldn’t see what lay on the other side of that step, but it didn’t have to do with wedding dresses. It was about joining her life to the life of a man who, though still young, seemed to possess an utter assurance of what he wanted and needed. One thing she could tell about the step forward was that it involved trusting Mark—and that to trust Mark was to surrender… no, to submit an important part of herself to him. Sally Lanchester would belong to Mark Weaver in a way she didn’t think she’d ever contemplated that even a married wife—in the modern world, at least—could belong to her husband. She shivered at that thought.
    Then she said, “Okay.”
    “Alright,” Mark said, “I want you to stand up and come lay yourself down over my lap. Before you lie down you should probably hike up your skirt a little bit, so I can bare your bottom when I have to.”
    Sally felt herself blushing very hotly, but she stood up and went to stand on Mark’s right side where he sat on his low bed. Could she really hike up her skirt the way Mark had told her to?
    Now, though, something about the flow of this strange little scene seemed to take hold of her. She found that she had already put her hands down to her thighs to gather her skirt above her knees and then to the middle of her thighs. She didn’t know how she could feel so very embarrassed even though Mark hadn’t seen anything at all; she had gone running with him the previous week and he had seen her in running shorts that were much, much more revealing than her hiked-up pencil skirt. But the thought of why she had hiked her skirt, and of how he would soon take down her panties to spank her, made the hiking itself a sort of humiliation she had never experienced before.
    Her eyes were closed, and she felt Mark’s right arm come around her waist, hugging her gently, letting her know that the time to put herself in position for her first spanking had to come.
    “Lay yourself down now, Sally,” he said quietly.
    She opened her eyes and looked into his face. It was strange to look down at him, but soon, of course, her face would be the one turned down to the carpet, and her bare backside would be what Mark looked down upon. Sally bit her lips as she looked at him, suddenly even more fearful than she had been before.
    “You used a bad word, Sally,” Mark said. “It’s time to learn your lesson.”
    Suddenly Sally realized that as much as this scene had to do with Mark, and what Mark apparently wanted in a relationship with a woman he might spend the rest of his life with, it had more to do with Sally herself and what kind of person she wanted to be. Did she want to be a person who used foul language and didn’t let anyone tell her that it was an unattractive trait? Hadn’t there been something in her decision to say ‘fuck’ that was almost a plea to Mark to correct her behavior?
    She realized that there were tears in her eyes, and she thought of what Mark had said about the way Professor Baxter had cried when this John Gammon person had whipped her in front of Mark. Sally couldn’t even say why she cried now. All she could tell was that it had to do with a lot of things: shame, and fear, but not just shame at the thought that she would to get a spanking like a little girl, or fear that it would hurt. No, there was also shame about having said the bad word, and fear about disappointing Mark Weaver, who somehow already seemed to be a person she didn’t want to let