Dear Kay:
I hope this meets with your satisfaction for the real people column...
I have read with interest occasional accounts of naughty husbands being disciplined in front of others, but until recently had never experienced such an event. Now I have!
My wife, in addition to being my disciplinarian, is a small business owner, and when things get really busy, she enlists me to help out (as often happens in family businesses). I usually get the most menial jobs, such as sweeping up the shop, filing, etc. However, I have a tendency to be a little bossy and to run my mouth and have great difficulty keeping from putting in "my two cents."
My wife is in the process of selling her printing business to her longtime manager, and so they currently function like co-owners. They also have gotten to be friends during this time. On a recent Saturday, I was there at my wife's behest, with strict orders to do as told and to keep my commentary to myself. The shop was closed, but the three of us were there "catching up." I was filing job tickets, which are orders, many of which are repeat business. Of course, the filing system is alphabetical, but I was having difficulty finding the correct files. Eventually I figured out why: some businesses and customers were filed under last name, and some under first name! Thus, Olympic Distributing might be under O, or might be under D! I found this quite ridiculous and couldn't keep from making a rather obnoxious comment to the manager. I think what I said was, "Don't you know how to alphabetize?"
"Excuse me?" said the manager, a stately and quite powerful woman in her own right.
"Half of these are by the first name and half by the last," I said in quite a snotty tone. "How about a little consistency in this shop?"
I heard a sound, which was my wife slapping her desk in disdain. She rose from her place and strode toward us. I noticed that in her hand was a long metal ruler, which she uses often in her graphic arts work.
"You are NOT going to talk to my manager that way!" she said.
"I was just pointing out the foibles of your filing system," I replied.
"You were not just pointing out anything," she said. "You were being rude, and I will not have it."
She came closer and shook the ruler in my face. "If we were alone in the shop, you'd be getting a taste of this," she said.
The manager, with quite a light in her eye, said, "Don't let me get in the way of marital discipline."
Now a similar glint came into my wife's eye and she said to me. "You've offended my manager, so she deserves to be a witness."
She then marched me to the back of the shop, behind some stacks of paper where we were not visible from the street. The manager followed.
"Drop your trousers," she ordered, "but in the interests of decorum, you may leave up your briefs."
Relieved at that, but still blushing to the hilt, I undid my belt buckle and lowered my slacks. I was wearing red bikini briefs.
"I shall do my best to match that color," my wife announced. She then bent my over the collating table. I must relate that the metal ruler used in printing is 18 inches long and has in it holes of various shapes, used to create circles, rectangles, etc. While she had threatened me with it during previous shop visits, I had never been spanked with it. For those of you who have experienced the hardness and harshness of wood, and the sting of leather, let me tell you that metal combines the two: It has that smarting feel of leather while at the same time the deep imprint of wood. Within three smacks I was wiggling and calling out. Yet she kept on for a full twenty, by which time I was tearfully begging for mercy.
When she finally let me up, I grabbed my burning bottom and danced around for a moment, with no thought to how silly I must have looked with my trousers still down around my ankles. Finally regaining a modicum of composure, I found myself standing in front of two very entertained ladies.
I reached for my pants, but my wife said, "No, no. Before you get dressed, you shall apologize like the naughty little boy you are."
I mumbled something into the floor, but my wife reached out with the ruler and pushed my chin up.
"Look her right in the face and tell her why you got a spanking and that you're sorry," she ordered.
Making eye contact with the manager, I felt my facial cheeks turn as reds as those behind!
"I was wrong to criticize your filing system and I am truly sorry," I said to her. "I will behave myself at work in the future."
The manager nodded. My wife said, "I guess you will, or the next time it will be on the bare!"
I can tell you that since then I have worked at the shop with nary a word, and I do exactly as the manager tells me!
Ted