Chapter One
1939 Words
Chapter One
Getting Bruce to Stick to His Diet
Gwendolyn Chang had just about had it. Her husband Bruce had really put on the pounds in recent years to the point where she believed, as did his doctor, that he was putting his health in jeopardy. What was just as bad, Bruce was constantly complaining about his weight and how ugly it made him feel. He made Gwen feel especially bad when he repeatedly asked her if he was repulsive to her. Really, he was not and he had never been a slender man but his asking her about it all the time put her in a very awkward position. What could she say? What did he expect her to say?
In other respects, the Changs had a good marriage. It had lasted almost a quarter of a century. Both Chinese-Americans, they had a lot in common. They were both solid Republicans although Bruce was a little more conservative than Gwen. They were born again Christians and Gwen regularly attended a Holiness church while Bruce was a bit more intermittent.
Gwen was short, of average slim build but with large breasts that she enjoyed showing off with low-cut blouses. She had a round face with medium gold-yellow skin and regular features. Her hair was long and getting gray in places. Rather formal in her manner of dress, she usually wore her hair up in a chignon.
Dwight was a handsome, regularly featured man. When he and Gwen had met, he had been just a trifle paunchy. He still looked good in the face. An actuary, he had worked at his most recent insurance company for five years and recently earned a raise. He put in long hours and sometimes worked weekends.
When the kids were young, Gwen had been a stay-at-home-mom. After they were in school, she got a job as a checker in a supermarket, the same type of job she had held before they were born. She was still working in a supermarket and trained new cashiers and baggers as well as running her own register.
They had raised two children together, Nancy and Dwight, both of whom were living on their own now. Nancy worked as a medical assistant in a doctor’s office. Dwight was an accountant and had recently made them grandparents, something they were glad about although they wished he would marry that live-in girlfriend of his.
Bruce’s downfall was his love of pastries and donuts. He would stuff himself with one donut after another. Then he would express remorse about it to Gwen but say, “I just couldn’t help myself. I love them so much.”
“Do you love them more than your health?” Gwen would ask rhetorically. “Do you love them more than me? I’d like you to be around for a good long while, Bruce. I don’t want to be a young widow.”
“I know, I know. It’s awful. I hate it. I mean I hate overeating. I hate being fat. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he would say in a voice full of self-loathing.
Gwen believed she knew what was wrong. Bruce just did not have the self-discipline to say “no” to food that tasted good to him. Since he did not have that discipline, she decided that she would have to supply it for him.
In the living room of their ranch-style home, Gwen sat her husband down for a serious discussion about his overeating. “Don’t you want to stop?” she asked. “Don’t you want to lose weight?”
“I do, I do,” he said, shaking his head in despair. “I can’t stand being this heavy. It makes me feel ugly and I know Dr. Ramirez says I’m endangering my health. Of course, I didn’t need him to tell me that.”
“No, you didn’t,” Gwen agreed. “Why don’t you cut out the pastries and donuts for a starter?”
“I wish I could,” he replied sadly. “I can’t explain it, darling. It’s like an addiction. I just can’t quit. I like them too much and I can’t resist and when I start, I just keep going.”
“You sure do,” she noted. “You need self-discipline to stick to a diet. It’s obvious you don’t have it, dear.”
Bruce nodded glumly in silence, looking down at his big hands. He nervously twisted his wedding ring.
“Since you can’t discipline yourself,” Gwen continued, “I think you have to have someone else do it for you.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, clearly perplexed.
“Just what I said. You can’t discipline yourself to stick to a diet and stop eating foods that are bad for you and causing you to dangerously gain weight. Someone else must discipline you.”
“Who?”
“I think the best candidate is the person to whom you are closest: your wife,” she replied.
“Darling, you believe you can discipline me into not eating too much?” Bruce asked.
“I believe I can if you give me the authority to do so,” she told him. “You have to willingly give me that authority. I can’t just grab it.”
Bruce thought this over. It was an odd concept. But he was at the end of his rope with being fat and continuing to gain weight. He was willing to try just about anything. He knew that Chandra loved him, that she loved him deeply. He felt certain that she would not abuse that authority.
“OK, darling,” Bruce said. “You can have the authority to discipline me.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“How do you propose to discipline me?” he asked.
She answered without hesitating, “I think the easiest and most efficient way is to dispense corporal punishment when you are out of line and have not followed your diet. That is, simply a spanking.”
“A spanking!” Bruce repeated incredulously. “I’m not a child!”
“No, you’re not,” she agreed. “But adults can take spankings, too. It gets a point across in a very physical way and a way that you’re likely to remember.”
“Wow. I guess you’ve got something there.”
“I do,” she said firmly. “And perhaps just knowing that you’ve given me the authority to apply discipline will help you stay away from temptation. The next time donuts or other pastries seem to beckon, remember that you can get spanked for eating them.”
***
Bruce was behind the wheel of his sky blue Crown Victoria and Gwen was in the passenger seat beside him. She had a large purse made of straw and leather on her lap. Bruce was attired in a navy blue business suit with a loud, busy tie that had big red and blue splotches against a black background. Gwen wore a yellow flower print dress with a lacy collar and lacy cuffs.
“I’ve got to stop in here,” Bruce said as he turned the car into the parking lot of a Dunkin Donuts.
“No, dear, don’t!” Gwen exclaimed. “You’re trying to lose weight! Remember?”
He looked at her sadly but then said, “I’ll only have one.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Please don’t stop here!” she begged.
“Sorry,” he said as he got out of the car.
Gwen hesitated, and then got out of it too.
Inside the shop, Bruce ordered two jelly donuts, a glazed twist, and coffee.
Gwen ordered an orange juice. She drank it glumly while watching her husband wolf down the donuts. Then she was even more upset because he went back to the counter and bought two chocolate donuts!
“I don’t see how you can do that,” Gwen said when he got back to the table.
“They’re just so good,” he said.
“You had a good breakfast this morning and you shouldn’t even be that hungry,” she said.
“I know, I know, but I love them,” he said.
Gwen did a slow burn all the way home. She was not going to be the only one burned over this, she decided!
“Bruce,” she said when they got into their house, “do you remember how you gave me the authority to discipline you?”
“Uh . . . umm . . . yes, I did do that, didn’t I?”
“You sure did,” she said. “And I intend to hold you to your word.”
A tingle of fear ran up and down Bruce’s spine. He knew what this meant. She was going to spank him for pigging out on those donuts.
“Dear, give me your belt,” Gwen ordered.
Bruce’s thick hands went to the leather belt looped around his trousers. They felt oddly weak but he was able to unbuckle the belt, pull it out, and hand it to his angered wife.
“Wait a minute, dear,” she said and walked away. She went to a hallway closet where she pulled out two fraternity-style wooden paddles.
“Where did you get those?” Bruce asked, noting that one paddle was solid while the other was studded with small, regularly placed holes.
“I bought them just for this type of occasion,” she replied. “I knew I’d be using them some time. Now, bare your bottom and get over that chair.”
Reluctantly but willingly Bruce pulled down his pants and boxer shorts. Then he draped himself ass up over the large, dark blue velour easy chair.
Gwen knew enough to start relatively easy and build up. She began with the belt. She doubled it up and brought it down on her husband’s naked ass cheeks. Swat!
No sound escaped from Bruce. But he felt his face and neck get painfully hot at the humiliation of his position and situation.
“Bruce, do you want to get fatter?” Gwen asked.
“No, I don’t,” he replied.
“Then why did you have all those donuts?” she queried.
“I just couldn’t help myself,” he said.
“Well, maybe this will help you control yourself in the future,” she said, then brought the belt down repeatedly. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!
Bruce gasped but made no other sound. The belt was putting pale pink stripes across his broad, flabby, pale-yellowish bottom.
Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! “Did you break your diet?” Gwen asked.
“Yes, obviously,” Bruce acknowledged.
“Do you deserve a spanking?” she asked.
“I guess so,” he responded.
She brought the belt down some more. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Then she asked again, “Do you deserve a spanking?”
“Yes,” he said without qualification.
It was time to go to a more severe instrument of correction, Gwen decided. She put the belt down and picked up the solid wooden fraternity-style paddle. With both hands, she brought it down hard on Bruce’s butt cheeks. Swat!
“Ouch!” Bruce exclaimed, surprised by how much the paddle hurt. He had not suspected the Gwen, who was not particularly strong even for a woman, would be able to bring it down so fiercely. “Hey, not so hard, darling,” he pled plaintively, looking back at her.
“I’m just getting started,” Gwen told him in a sharp voice. She brought the paddle down fast and hard. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!
“Ouch! Ow! Hey! Hey! Ouch! That hurts!” Bruce exclaimed as his bottom stung from the powerful swats. He began squirming, lifting one foot and then the other in response to the pain.
“I guess I’m finally getting through to you, dear,” Gwen said before renewing the spanking. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!
“Oh! Ow! It hurts! It hurts! Ow! Ow! Please, Gwen, not so hard,” he begged.
“Are you going to keep stuffing yourself with donuts and pastries, Bruce?” she asked.
“No, no, no, I swear. Never again! I’ll follow my diet. I want to lose weight.”
“Perhaps you’ll want to even more after some more of this discipline,” she said and spanked away. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!
“Ow! Ouch! Ow! Oh, it hurts! It hurts!” Bruce cried out as the stinging swats kept landing on his unprotected posterior. His bottom was turning a mottled red.
“I don’t think it hurts nearly enough!” Gwen declared. With that, she lay down the solid paddle and picked up the one with the holes in it.
Bruce saw that and said, “Oh no, Gwen, darling, please don’t. I can’t take it. Really I can’t.”
“It’s going to take a powerful force to lead you to resist your weaknesses,” she said, “and I think this paddle is it.” She brought it down on his already reddened ass cheeks. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!
“Ouch! Ouch! Ow! It hurts! Ouch! Ow!”
“Are you going to stick to your diet in the future?” Gwen queried.
“Yes! Yes! Yes, of course!” he practically shouted.
“You better,” she said, “because this is what you’ll get when you break it.”
Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!
By the time Gwen stopped spanking, her husband’s ass was solidly red.
He groaned as he straightened up and rubbed his sore ass cheeks. “Gwen, I don’t think I could even stand the sight of a donut after this,” the punished man told his wife.
“Good,” she remarked with a beaming smile. “It sounds like I accomplished something.”
- Writer
