St. Paul to the Ephesians

Michael came from a religious family, so when we started making wedding plans, it was just understood that we would be married by his pastor in the church that his family had attended for the past several generations. This was fine with me. I am not very religious myself, but I figured that it wouldn't hurt, and would please Mike's mother.

It was fine with me, that is, until we got into the actual ceremony, and Mike's pastor repeatedly brought up the words of St. Paul in his letter to the Ephesians. You know the ones:

"Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything."

He must have quoted it a dozen times, perhaps detecting the fact that I was not buying it. The more he quoted, the tighter became the set of my jaw, and the irritation in my eyes. Mike could see it, and he knew that we would be having words that night. I could sense him fidgeting next to me, but his discomfort at the altar was not going to save him when we were finally alone later.

I was raised to develop an independent spirit, in a happy home that was run by my mother. She and my father were very much in love, but neither seemed to buy into the popular (and rather silly) idea that marriage was to be an equal partnership with no one in the lead. To the contrary, my mother had a much stronger personality than did my father, and there was no doubt in my mind which of them called the shots in their marriage. They both seemed quite comfortable with this arrangement, treating it as the natural order of things, and for them it clearly was.

The reception after the wedding was typical, with gifts, congratulations, the cutting of the cake, the "first" dance, and etc., but every time I looked at my mother, I could tell that she was having a very difficult time fighting back a great roar of laughter. Her conversation was heavily salted with the words "submit" (as in to present a document for approval) and "submission" and she was obviously having great fun at my expense. My father just sat quietly, wearing a little, worried smile on his face.

That night, when we were finally alone in our honeymoon suite, I confronted my new spouse. "Where did all of that 'Letter to the Ephesians' crap come from? Was that your idea?"

"No, Jill, honest. I think mom might have suggested it to Pastor Vickers, but I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Your mother? You 'think' your mother might have put him up to it? And what's your opinion on the topic, if I may ask?"

"Well, it is the natural order of things. You know, husbands are head of the household, and wives provide support and nurturing..." He kind of trailed off toward the end, as he finally became aware of the fire blooming in my eyes.

"And you think that you should rule me, and that I should submit to your whims. Is that it?" I responded, feet in a wide stance, hands on my hips over my snow white wedding gown. In my heels, I stood a good inch taller than Mike, and in my mind I had no doubt what the proper answer to my question should be. "You think that you are the stronger of the two of us, do you?"

"W-well, it's just how things w-work, you know?" he stammered, his voice almost failing him completely.

"Let's just see about that, shall we?" I responded. "Drop your pants."

"Wh-what?"

"I said drop your pants. I want to explore this whole 'head of house' and 'submission' thing as it applies to our marriage. Do it now. Drop your pants!"

"Come on, Jill, there's no reason to get upset," he answered, but I noted with satisfaction that he had started fumbling with his belt. I just stared at him, as he proceeded to undo the button and zipper and allowed the slacks of his tux to fall down to his ankles.

"Come this way," I demanded, taking his arm and leading him over to the bed.

I don't know what he thought would happen next, but when I sat down on the side of the bed and pulled him down across my knees, my intentions became all too obvious.

"What are you doing?" Mike protested, foolishly. "Wives aren't supposed to s-spank their husbands."

"Well then, dear," I responded sweetly as I yanked his boxers down to his knees, "perhaps I am not the 'wife' in this marriage. Perhaps that will be your job from now on." I had not considered this twist before that moment, but I confess that the sudden image that it evoked, of my little Mikey in a little apron, working around the house to make us a happy home, kind of got my juices going.

Satisfied with Mike's position over my lap, I held him tightly in place with my left arm, raised my right hand high above its target, and brought it down with a resounding SMACK.

"Ouch," Mike protested. "Jill, that stings, cut it out."

I quickly delivered another five spanks, the last being especially hard. "Did you mean to say, 'cut it out, please'?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, please. This is embarrassing. Please stop."

"I don't think so," I said, resuming the spanking, appropriately punctuating the words of my lecture. "One of the purposes of a honeymoon, darling, is to get to know each other and to establish our relationship within the context of married life. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, I agree, but..."

"And the first and most important [accented with an especially hard smack to Mike's reddening bottom] thing that we have to settle, is who will lead this marriage, and who will be the 'wife' as Paul has described that relationship. Given our relative positions, Mikey, I think that would be you. What do you think?" By now, my firm right hand had turned Mike's bottom and upper thighs into a very promising shade of pink, and I was not even starting to tire.

"Yes. No! I don't know. Please stop. Stop right now and let me up," Mike finished, trying to put some steel into his voice, and struggling to leverage himself off of my lap.

Reaching down, I grabbed Mike's right wrist and pulled it behind his back, then forced his head down toward the carpet. I extricated my left leg from under him, and placed it across his shoulders, keeping him in place. I had to pull the skirts of my bridal gown all the way to my hips in order to complete this maneuver, and Mike was completely draped in white silks and satins until I managed to bunch them under my left arm and uncover my spouse's red bottom. His head and upper body remained covered, while his legs and ass showed nakedly out the other side. It would have made a memorable picture if the wedding photographer had been there to snap it—my long legs in white silk stockings, Mike's pale limbs, glowing bottom, and all that white material from my gown billowing around.

"As the 'wife', Mikey, you should know better than to try to get off of my lap before your discipline is complete. I'm afraid that now we will have to raise the stakes in order to insure that you understand your situation."

By stretching, I could just reach my purse, and the hairbrush that I carried within it. Once back in position, Mike's spanking continued, much more painfully, until he had completely surrendered to my control.

It has been almost two weeks now, since that first eye opener for little Mikey, and I'm sure that he will be relieved when our honeymoon is officially over. I proposed while he was still over my knee that first night, and he agreed, that he be taken over my knees at bedtime each night of our honeymoon to reinforce that first lesson and solidify with no doubt our future relationship. Oh, I've not been cruel to the poor boy. Most nights, I've just used my hand for a little warm-up prior to directing Mike's mouth between my thighs, to be followed by all the more traditional honeymoon activities, enthusiastically enjoyed by both of us.

One thing is certain though, Mike has come around to complete agreement with St. Paul's letter to the Ephesians. And, he looks really cute in the sexy pink panties I've put him in.

End

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