Chastised at the Cabin

My wife and I had an unexpected experience recently in the northern woods. We'd rented an apartment for the weekend in a large cabin in a beautiful secluded area. The owners, an older couple, mentioned they might be on premises in the main part of the house, which we thought would be convenient in case there were any questions about the kitchen appliances, Wi-Fi, and so on. As it happened, no one seemed to be around when we arrived Friday night, so we just settled in.

The next morning, my wife got up early for a run, as she often does. She looked quite fetching in her red shorts and pink T-shirt, and I happily fell back asleep after watching her leave. A little over an hour later, she woke me up. It turned out something had happened.

My wife explained that she'd been on the porch walking back toward the apartment after her run, when she'd heard noises and yelling from inside the main part of the house. She was confused as she'd thought no one was supposed to be in there, as the owners presumably hadn't arrived. She knocked on the front door and, to her surprise it opened. Against her better judgment, she stepped inside--and saw something she wasn't supposed to have seen.

The owners had been in there, she told me, on a sofa visible from the vestibule where my wife was standing. They were a couple of about age 60, as we knew from the smiling photo we'd seen in our earlier correspondence. Except now, my wife had seen an unexpected aspect of their lives. The husband was sitting on a sofa with his wife across his lap. Her pants and panties were down around her thighs, and her bare ass was reddened. He was holding a hairbrush.

They both had looked at my wife in wide-eyed, embarrassed silence. At which point, my wife did something that only made matters worse: she burst into laughter. The absurdity of the situation overwhelmed her, and she retreated from the house, still laughing. Then she had come back in through the door to the apartment and awakened me. She was still amused as she told me the story--but that ended shortly as an envelope was slipped in under our door.

Inside was a hastily handwritten note from the landlord, saying that my wife and I would have to leave the apartment immediately; that my wife had violated the terms of the rental policy by entering the main premises uninvited; that she'd intruded on their privacy and displayed "rudeness" as well. Our weekend plans were now entirely shot, it seemed. So much for the kayaking we'd planned to do.

"Maybe you can talk to him," my wife whispered.

I had my doubts. "What do you want me to say? They're embarrassed, and they don't want us around."

"There must be something," she said. "This is my fault," she added, her voice trailing off.

That gave me an idea. I told it to her, and she replied in a sharp tone: "No way!"

"Then let's pack," I said. At that, she looked less resolute, and asked: "Do you think it'd work?"

I gave her a slight smirk, then walked out and knocked on the main door. The man answered, looking at me with a glare that seemed to mix anger and sheepishness. His wife was nowhere to be seen. "I think there may be a solution to this unfortunate misunderstanding," I said.

Not much more than a minute later, I knocked loudly on our apartment door. My wife opened it. "They're ready for you," I said.

She was still wearing her red shorts. "Let me get changed into my jeans," she said.

"No," I said, in a firm tone. "You're perfect like that."

I grabbed her hand brusquely and walked her out of the apartment and to the door of the main area. I knocked on it, staring at my wife, who looked back at me nervously. The door opened. It was the landlord's wife, fully dressed. "Come in," she said to me, giving an annoyed glance at my wife. I quickly led my wife inside.

The landlord was sitting there on the sofa, the very same sofa where he'd been spanking his wife minutes before. Now he showed no sign of embarrassment but instead looked my wife over with a smug, bemused expression. He held the hairbrush in one hand, and with the other hand patted his lap. The instruction was clear.

My wife, with much trepidation, stepped forward and climbed across his lap. The hairbrush came down on her upturned butt. She winced but was stoic otherwise, making no noise. The hairbrush came down again and again. Then the landlord set it aside next to him and put his fingers in the waistband of my wife's shorts. He gave me a questioning look. I nodded, and he yanked the shorts down.

The hairbrush back in hand, he resumed the spanking, landing it again and again on her pink panties. My wife squirmed and grimaced, but still managed to be mostly quiet. Then the landlord ceremoniously put the hairbrush aside and tucked his fingers into the waist of the panties. He looked at me again, with inquiring raised eyebrows and now a smile on his face.

I smiled back with a nod. "Be my guest," I said.

The panties came down, which my wife apparently hadn't expected. She started to struggle and resume the "No way" objection that she'd started out with, but I stepped forward and stroked her hair. "Five spanks on your bare butt," I said. She quieted down. The landlord resumed his ministrations. On the final bare-bottom spank, my wife yelped, both from the strong smack and with relief that she'd gotten through the ordeal.

My wife got up and lifted her panties and shorts. She stood there awkwardly, blushing. I put my arm around her shoulder. "Looking forward to the rest of the weekend," I said to the landlord.

The landlord smiled, and his wife guffawed. I looked at her and decided to bring up an idea that had been forming. "It was all the noise that you made earlier that caused this whole situation in the first place," I said to the older woman. "I think you'll need to spend part of this day bound and gagged."

The landlady's wife looked startled by the idea. But the landlord looked intrigued. And my wife, eager for a bit of revenge against the woman who'd gotten her in trouble, was already glancing around the room, looking for materials that could be used to keep the landlord's wife under control.

We had a late breakfast together, at least the three of us whose mouths weren't gagged. The landlady's wife squirmed on the rug, dressed only in panties, hogtied and mumbling as best she could. At one point, my wife, watching the older woman struggle, burst into laughter. "Better be careful about that laughter," I said to her. "Could cause you some more problems." My wife tried to stifle her giggles, and I was pleased to see she wasn't succeeding.