Work Text:
Colin slots the key into the lock and pushes the door open. Relief washes over him, finally home. The summer heat is brutal, his car’s AC has been acting up for days, and the meeting went terribly. Now he’s just waiting for the dreaded phone call to confirm it.
In the hallway, right behind the door, Penelope is standing. Is she about to leave?
“Hi, sweetheart. Heading out somewhere?” She looks at him sternly, and he racks his brain for what he might have forgotten, but nothing comes to mind.
“Just tell me what I’ve missed. I don’t have the energy for riddles,” he sighs.
“You were late to your meeting… again.” Her tone is sharp, and Colin rolls his eyes dramatically with a groan.
“How do you even know that?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.
He leans in to kiss her hello. He just wants normalcy. Not another fight because his wife knows too much about his company.
“You know how I know. Eloise is already considering buying out your shares, she’s fed up with you being late and missing deadlines.”
He rolls his eyes again and starts heading upstairs. He needs to unwind, and clearly, she isn’t helping.
“Yeah, go upstairs. But not to your computer. Go fetch the paddle. I’ve had enough.”
One foot already on the first step, he whips around, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He swallows hard.
Penelope had expected that look. She folds her arms across her chest, her stare unrelenting.
“But…” Colin swallows again, throat suddenly dry. She shakes her head.
“No buts. Go upstairs and bring it back to the living room.”
He drags himself up the stairs, while Penelope watches him go in those faded jeans shorts. She exhales, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in disapproval.
Minutes later, he’s creeping back down. She’s spanked him plenty of times in bed. It hurt, sure, but it always tangled with his arousal until his head shut off and he soared, half lost in it all.
Now he holds the leather paddle in his hand. He’d gifted it for her, or to them, depending on how one looked at it. The letter P is embossed in the center. He had thought “Penelope,” of course. But she had told him she loved it because it could also stand for Pleasure, Pride, Punishment, or Pain. And with every strike, she carved all of those Ps into him. Claimed him. With devotion, love, and respect for their very own kind of desire.
Peeking around the corner, he spots her waiting. Eyebrows raised.
“What? Did you think I’d changed my mind?”
Colin grumbles under his breath and forces himself down the last steps.
“Eloise actually suggested someone should spank the hell out of you until you finally learn to take responsibility. What’s wrong with you? You managed deadlines just fine when you were traveling constantly, up until two and a half years ago.”
“That was different,” he mumbles, sounding like a weakling full of excuses. Is that what he’s become? The thought chills him.
“Back then, all I had to do was live and write.”
Penelope rolls her eyes and heads for the living room.
“So it’s everyone else’s fault again? That’s part of the problem. Come on, I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
Colin trudges after her, every second hyperaware of the stitching on the paddle’s handle. He can still smell the faint scent of leather. She takes such good care of it that even after more than a year of use, it still looks brand new.
Penelope sinks onto the couch with a sigh. She pushes her already short skirt higher so it bunches at her hips.
Colin’s cock twitches at the sight of her thighs. Her skin there looks like cream.
“Peeeen, please,” he whines, but she only pats her thighs with both hands and opens them for him. Whenever she does that, he knows sitting will be agony for the rest of the day. Fear rises in him, but so does his cock.
“You knew this was coming. Don’t act surprised now.”
He starts to drape himself over her lap, but she lets out a low laugh. One of those laughs that makes his blood run cold because it never means anything good.
“You didn’t honestly think I’d spank you through your clothes, did you? Off.” Her calm voice sends his heart racing until it feels lodged in his throat.
He swallows, though there’s nothing left to swallow, his mouth dry as sandpaper. A pitiful sound escapes him.
Penelope grabs the waistband of his shorts, jerks hard enough to spin him toward her, and with quick fingers pops open the buttons and unzips him. She drags down his red boxer briefs in the same motion, leaving his cock bobbing right at her mouth’s height.
He groans before he can hold it back.
She looks up at him, exasperated, and his chest clenches.
“You’ll get over that soon enough. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her voice has a tone he’s never heard before, and doesn’t like.
She yanks everything down to his knees.
“Now. Over.” She nods toward the sofa cushion beside her.
On the other side lies a familiar tube. The same cream she always rubs into him after spanking him in their bedroom, their very own roleplay. It only ever heightened his arousal, her fingers spreading it over his sore skin. A tiny spark of hope flickers, maybe he’ll still be able to file this away under “pleasure” in the end.
Shame washes over him as it always does when he bends across her lap. And yet, he prefers over-the-knee to any other kind of spanking, because it keeps him close to her. If he jerks away from the blows, his body only burrows deeper against her thighs. If he arches into the sweet sting, there’s always her hand, stroking him softly between strikes.
He kneels on the floor, his lower belly and cock pressed against the inside of her thigh, his chest draped over the couch. Up close, the fabric doesn’t feel nearly as soft as he’d always thought.
“Why are we here?” Her voice slices sharply through his thoughts, startling him.
“Because I was late to my meeting.”
The first smack lands across both cheeks at once. The sound is louder than the pain, he knows she knows that too. A warning. The leather rests right there, she doesn’t lift it, and he can feel the warmth of her hand against his skin. His cock throbs.
“Colin, don’t test me. Your arms stay under your head. If a hand comes back here, I won’t hesitate to strike it too. Clear?”
He swallows. It’s so humiliating.
“Crystal clear.”
Penelope snorts.
“You’re so eloquent, and yet you never use it to your advantage.”
“We’re here because two weeks ago you begged me to spank your ass properly if you were late again or missed another deadline, right?”
Colin sighs, and she’s already growing impatient.
“Right?”
“Yeees,” he drags it out.
“You wanted to see if a sore bottom would help you focus. Do you remember that?” Her voice is sharp enough to make him want to shrink into himself. Damn, she can be terrifying. Colin huffs, annoyed. He remembers. He’d read about it in a blog. But that was written by a sub living in a 24/7 arrangement, worlds away from what he and his wife have.
The paddle vanishes and comes back down hard on the same spot as before, the sharp sting making him jolt against her lap.
“That hurt.” He blurts it out. Normally she starts slow, warming him up until his skin turns “nicely pink,” as she calls it. This isn’t that kind of spanking.
Pen grabs his hips and yanks upward.
“Higher.” That’s all she says, and Colin shuffles forward on the couch until his knees hang just a little off the floor. Now his weight rests on his upper body and her thigh. He knows she likes feeling his weight when it’s play, at least then.
Several more blows land in steady rhythm, just as hard, targeting his thighs and the tender spot where thigh and cheek meet. He squirms across her lap. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be this bad, that she’d let him go after a few strikes. But she’s already found her pace, relentless, and he loses that hope fast.
“To be honest, I don’t care about Eloise. You poured everything into this publishing house. Nights, weekends, you were gone so much I thought you were still traveling. You gave it your heart and soul.”
The paddle smacks down again, harsh across his sit spot, and Colin whimpers.
“Pen, that really hurts. Enough, yeah?”
“It’s nowhere near enough. Remember what you told me? That I should ignore your whining. That this wasn’t supposed to be about pleasure, but a proper punishment. What else did you say, Colin? Key word: work ethic.”
Her voice reminds him of one of his professors back at university. Every word out of her mouth sounded like a lecture.
“That after our… special nights, I write my best work, because my head is blissfully empty and I’m not so easily distracted,” he snaps, sulky, like a teenager. He hates himself for it. His toes dig into the soft carpet, desperate for an anchor, for anything to cling to.
His ass burns, everywhere. Like he’s sat down in the glowing coals of one of their family bonfires. He can’t even tell where the last blow landed anymore; it all just burns, hot and raw.
“Aahh… Owww… Pleeease!” He twists from side to side, trying to wriggle away from the blows, but Penelope plants her whole forearm across his lower back where her hand had been, pushing him down briefly but firmly.
“Please what? Hold still, Colin. You’re here because you begged me to promise I’d follow through, exactly when you least expected it. And here we are.” She huffs in frustration.
“Also… you showed up to a business meeting in jeans shorts and a T-shirt? Are you serious?”
“I was running late,” he whines, then blurts, “Stop, please. I get it.”
Penelope lets out a humorless laugh, her rhythm unbroken, strokes falling across his thighs now. Colin tries pulling his knees in, then shoving them back down to the floor. Each smack stings sharply. He waits for the moment when lust usually overtakes him, when the pain morphs into hot arousal pulsing through every nerve. But it doesn’t come.
“We’ve tried everything. Haven’t we? Eloise has given you a hundred lectures, tried kindness-not her strong suit-snapped at you, yelled, even slammed her fist on your desk. Nothing works. I’ve set you countless timers!”
“It hurts.”
“Then I’m doing it right!” To drive her words home, she pauses only long enough to land the next blow extra hard on one cheek.
“You think I enjoy this? Do you remember how many times you asked me to do this and I refused?”
“Should’ve accepted your no.” He grumbles, then groans through clenched teeth when she targets the tender spots just beneath his cheeks again.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers.
“Sorry that you’re unreliable, or sorry you’re being punished? Tell me what exactly you’re sorry for, Colin.”
Rapid smacks rain down on the same spot again and again before she switches sides.
“I’m sorry, okay? Really sorry. Uhh… ahh, enough. Pleeease!”
“Still hard?”
“Damn right you can feel it. I’m grinding against your thigh with every strike.”
“Then it’s not enough yet. And you’ve still got breath to run your mouth.”
“Can you stop lecturing? Your blows are memorable enough.”
Her answer is a strike so fierce on his right cheek that the breath knocks right out of him. He doesn’t mean to, but he tries to block her with his foot.
“Colin, if you want to stop me, you can get up, bend over the back of the sofa, and I’ll fetch the acrylic paddle. Remember? Our early mistake, the one with the big holes? Then I’ll focus exclusively on the part of you that’s about to meet your office chair. Do I make myself clear?” Her own heart is hammering in her chest.
“And why should I sit there, huh?” His tone sounds far more defiant than is good for him.
“I won’t make the deadline anyway. Damn it! Aahhh!”
“You will meet the deadline. I swear it. And if I have to stand over you with this paddle in my hand as a reminder, I will.” She sounds dead serious, and if Colin knows one thing, it’s that she means every word.
Soon his erection fades, and he melts against her, as though surrendering. During their plays, this would be the moment his mind went blank, but there he’d still be aroused. This is not that kind of spanking.
“Colin, you’re endangering not just your own career, but Eloise’s too. The publishing house is finally on its feet, and what are you doing? Trampling all over your work. You told me not to stop at ‘enough’ or ‘I can’t take it anymore.’ You told me to make sure it counts. I hope your bottom line tonight is the right one.”
Colin trembles, sobbing.
“I… I know… I…” a whimper, “…don’t want to be such a… failure… I…” He squirms a little in her lap, “…I love this publishing house… I’ll do better… and I…” He sniffles, gasping for breath, “…I’ll draw the right bottom line from this.” His throat works hard as he swallows, rubbing his face with his hands and snorting through his nose.
The color of his bottom should be even, so Penelope methodically spreads a few more smacks across his thighs.
Colin pants, his voice breaking with every moan. Each strike pulls another sound out of him. She’s never taken it this far before, but she knows he’s close to his limit.
And so is she.
“You’ll count and thank me after each one. Six more, and you’re done. Understood?”
“Yes.” His voice cracks.
The smacking has blurred into background noise, but he wishes the pain would fade into the same haze.
“One… and two… thank you.” The words rasp out of him, muffled. His nose is blocked, his entire backside on fire.
The next two land square on his thighs, driving the air from his lungs. Why do the last strokes always feel the worst, as if she wants to make sure he remembers them? And usually, in this position, they’re memories he treasures.
“Three and… four… th-thank you.” His voice is strangled.
The blows are slower now, more deliberate, as though she’s working her way across ass, thighs, and sit spots one by one. Which means the worst is coming.
The final two are the worst. For him and for her. Penelope’s hand trembles. She wants to soften them, to let them fall more like pats, she doesn’t know if she has the strength left, physically or emotionally. But it would send the wrong message. So she trusts her muscle memory and turns her face away as she lands them on the most sensitive spots.
Colin cries out, wracked with sobs, and she shudders. ‘Five… and six…’ pounds through her head, echoing, until at last his hoarse whisper comes, barely audible:
“All done.” She softly tells them both, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple.
Penelope lifts her forearm from his back and slips her hand under his shirt. His skin is damp with sweat. She listens as his sobs grow quieter, the shaking of his body easing, and her chest aches. He wanted this so badly, and she only went through with it because of the weight he placed on it.
“You took your punishment so well. Ssh.” She waits until he stirs before going on.
“Come on, up you get. We’re not quite finished yet.”
Colin groans, pushing himself up until he kneels between her thighs. The sight nearly undoes her. His face is flushed dark red, as though she’d struck him there too, tear tracks streak his cheeks, his hair wild.
“C-can you…” He drops his gaze to the floor, swallows hard, then looks back up to finish. “…hold me, please, before…”
She can´t get a word out, just pulls him into her arms. He sags heavily against her, spent, clinging to her with surprising strength.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll apologize to El right away, too.”
She traces small circles over his back, his T-shirt damp with sweat.
“Ssh. It’s alright. You’ll make it right.”
Moments pass before he finally pulls away on his own, sighing deeply, avoiding her eyes.
“Can you say it, please? And mean it?” His voice is drained, pleading.
Penelope takes a steadying breath.
“To the corner you go, Colin. Arms on your head, so your shirt doesn’t cover my work.” Her throat is dry. She’d accepted this role with her promise, but that doesn’t mean it comes easy.
With his pants pooled at his knees, he shuffles into the nearest corner, close enough his nose nearly brushes the wall. It’s humiliating.
Every change of posture tugs at his burning skin, and he hisses. He knew it would hurt. He’d read that real punishment only works once the body begins to cry on its own, releasing stress.But he knows that’s only part of the truth, even if it feels true for him. But he hadn’t imagined it hurting this much. This is beyond anything he thought he’d signed up for. And he knows, with a wooden paddle, or that vicious acrylic one, it would’ve been even worse. He’d left the choice of implementation to his wife. She always takes care of him.
Penelope goes to the kitchen, pours a large glass of water, and grabs a chocolate biscuit for her husband. He needs both badly. She does too, so she takes a few big gulps from her own glass and bites hastily into a biscuit. She keeps glancing around the open kitchen wall, checking on him again and again.
He keeps dipping into his knees, rocking back and forth, shifting from heels to toes.
From the top of his crack down to mid-thigh, his backside is flushed in a deep, angry pink.
In any other setting, the color might arouse her, but not now. A shiver runs down Penelope’s spine.
When she sets the glass and treat on the table, she pushes the paddle as far away as possible and flips it over. She doesn’t want to see the P. She wishes she had never said it could stand for Punishment. She never wants to truly punish him. Never.
“Come here to me.” Her voice is gentle, and he flinches, lost in thought. Yes, corner time is meant for exactly that, but to her it feels cruel, even if he insisted on it.
She pats the couch beside her. He eyes it warily, lips pushed into such a pout she fears the tears will start all over again. She parts her thighs a little, and he kneels upright between them.
She presses the glass firmly into his hand.
“Drink.” It comes out like a command. One learned in their scenes, when he is still deep in subspace and can’t recognize hunger or thirst unless she speaks in that tone.
He gulps it down greedily. She trades the empty glass for the biscuit. He smiles at her, then at the treat, before stuffing it into his mouth in one go, munching with noisy satisfaction. She loves and adores him. He is so sweet.
“Come.” She pats her thigh again while reaching for the tube of arnica lotion. Colin sighs heavily.
“Why does this humiliation linger, when I’ve lain here so many times and loved it?”
Penelope chuckles softly, rubbing the ointment in from top to bottom with thorough care. Colin keeps groaning and hissing.
“Because that’s part of why you usually surrender. It’s the ambivalence between shame and arousal that pushes you deeper.”
“Mmh, okay.” His voice is almost soundless as he settles on her lap just as he did during the punishment. And she almost can’t bear it. Spanking him, or pretending to chastise him, so that he gets hard enough to come from it, that’s one thing. Exploring that side of them has made their sex life so much more intense, even outside roleplay. Fulfillment has taken on a new meaning, deeper, maybe. Colin sometimes jokes it’s as deep as the burn that seeps into him.
But this… this is something else. He has brought it up for months, and she simply couldn't picture it, until Eloise seriously considers pushing him out, buying his share. That would break his heart. He loves the publishing house almost as much as he loves his sister. His own words.
Hearing him sob like that almost broke her. Especially knowing it is her doing, on his request. She closes her eyes briefly and draws a deep breath.
While she rubs his sit spots carefully and thoroughly with the soothing cream, she gathers her courage and says what she had intended to keep until he made today’s deadline, but she can’t hold it back any longer.
“Promise me you’ll take your partnership with your sister and your work more responsibly from now on. I don’t think I can-or want to-do this again. I can say with absolute certainty: I don’t want to.” Her tone is firm, though her voice cracks.
Colin sniffles against the sofa cushion, mumbling,
“I don’t want it again either. That hurt so damn much. I’ve never felt pain like that in my life. I know you promised to me to repeat it if necessary, but…”
Penelope swallows hard, fighting the urge to frame it as guilt. She reminds herself it isn’t about blame. He begged for this. Still, neither of them will ever be quite the same again. Her only comfort is that they went through it together.
“Up.” Her voice is soft now. She has to get him to meet his deadline, even though curling up with him in bed is what both of them probably need.
Colin rises with a groan. Every movement sends fresh waves of burn through him.
He wants to rub, but that would smear the cream. He scrapes together his last bit of self-control and resists. Tugging his clothes up just enough to cover his cock, he starts to move.
“Ah, ah. No cheating. Underwear and shorts all the way up.” Her look brooks no argument. Still pliant from the spanking, he says nothing, just tugs anxiously at the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“Colin, you’ve got a deadline.” She glances at the clock. “Two and a half hours to do the work of four. I’d say you better plant your butt in that chair and get to work. You’ve got thirty seconds to push through, or I’ll do it, and you’ll get an encouraging swat on the way. Your choice.” She grins cheekily. Not long ago her chest had been heavy, but now mischief slips back in and she doesn´t even know where it came from.
Colin frowns, indignant. Her heart melts, he knows it always does. Once, she confessed that if he ever ran out of arguments in a fight, that look alone would disarm her. She chooses to believe he isn’t weaponizing it now. This is genuine indignation.
Jaw tight, eyes squeezed shut, he begins to pull his briefs up. At the tender crease where fabric meets burning skin, he whimpers. It burns like she’s still spanking him. What has he gotten himself into, and how is he supposed to concentrate like this?
“Breathe!” she orders, her voice slipping back into command, and he reacts instantly. He inhales deeply and drags the rest of the briefs up. The shorts are no problem after that, until he starts walking. The fabric isn’t tight, but it’s not elastic either, and every step rubs against his sore skin.
Penelope follows right behind him.
“Why are you coming upstairs with me?” he asks, suspicious, though he doesn’t really want to sound that way.
“To make sure you don’t raise your fancy desk high enough to work standing.” Her voice is amused, but he knows could switch into Domme mode at any second.
Every step of the stairs is torture, the fabric chafing with each movement.
“Fuck!” he curses, frustrated, but Penelope stays silent, which he finds even more frustrating.
In his office, his eyes land on the acupressure mat he bought after reading that blog post. The guy had written that his Domme wife always put him on it after a proper spanking, which apparently motivated him to work quickly and thoroughly.
Penelope’s fingers trail over the mat, and she gives him an encouraging look. He nearly tears up at the thought and grimaces. Not even that earns him a reaction.
“Pen, please. Can we skip that? Please? I swear I’ll focus. Please don’t make me. Please.” He’s on the verge of kneeling in front of her to beg. They both love that pose during their roleplays, for different reasons, but this is reality, and he can’t bend it to his (physical) advantage.
She checks her watch again.
“Two hours and twenty-seven minutes, Colin. Use them wisely. I’ll let you try without the mat, but if you miss the deadline-even by a single minute-I’ll put you on it for the same amount of time, and you’ll work on one of your other projects. Clear?”
She never intended to put him on that mat. It’s pure cruelty. But he insisted on the full program, and so she just nodded.
“Thank you. Oh God, thank you.” He cups her face in both hands and kisses her. Penelope feels like she could finally let go, melt into him, but they’re not there yet.
She watches as he lowers himself into his chair with a hiss, still groaning as he shifts to find a tolerable position. The laptop is already opening as he adjusts. Penelope twirls one of his curls around her finger and presses a kiss into his hair.
Three months later…
The front door swings open, and Colin doesn’t bother closing it properly, he just throws it shut behind him.
“Baby?!” he calls into the house. Penelope steps out of the kitchen, drying her hands.
“Remember that author who gave El such a hard time, the one who turned her down?” She nods as her husband strides in, biting her lip. He’s in charcoal trousers and a gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks sinfully good.
“I got him on board, whoo-hoo!!” Colin wraps an arm around her and lifts her right off the floor. She squeaks in surprise and clings to his neck. He kisses her hard, then lets her down with an exaggerated peck.
“Fuck, I’m so happy, and so proud. And El? You should’ve heard her. Have you ever heard my sister say ‘I’m proud of you’?” Penelope laughs and nods.
“Yes, I’ve heard it plenty, but then, I’m not her good-for-nothing-world-bumming-never-serious older brother.” Colin rolls his eyes, pressing her to the wall of the kitchen alcove and pinning her there with his body.
“I’m proud of you too.” She tells him and he smiles happily. He's rock hard.
“Does success make you horny?” she teases, fingers tugging at the buttons of his shirt. He groans loudly.
“Oh hell, yes! But maybe it’s also because I’ve been imagining how we could celebrate.” He grinds against her, both of them panting on each other’s lips. Colin pulls her closer and kisses her, his mouth hot, his body already running at full speed.
She licks along the seam of his lips, and when he opens for her, he devours her, kissing her hungrily. He groans, thrusting against her again.
He rests his forehead against hers, fingers buried in her hair, holding her head gently.
“Thank you for being proud of me, and…” He leaves the rest unsaid. She knows what he means. His breathing is ragged and deep.
Penelope slides her hand down between them and closes it over his bulge, possessive. She knows what he wants but waits for him to say it.
“And how do you want to celebrate?” she asks innocently. He manages a grin through his heavy breaths.
“Preferably with my cock deep inside you… but first…” He swallows and sinks to his knees in front of her.
Penelope’s breath hitches. Him kneeling in front of her is one thing, but kneeling like this, in those clothes, is something else entirely. Maybe she’s just discovered a new kink.
“… first I want to be naked over your cream-colored thighs, our paddle in your hand, your palms on my ass. Claim me, baby.” His voice is soft, almost pleading at his last words.
Penelope lets out a quiet moan, and Colin smiles proudly up at her, eyes shining.
“Then up you go. You know what to do.” She watches as he rises, kisses her quickly, and disappears upstairs.
“Oh, and Colin?”
“Yeah?” he asks, eager.
“El still wonders what happened to you after those three days of working from home, when you suddenly turned into a completely different man when it comes to responsibility.” Colin groans in embarrassment, and Penelope laughs. Nothing pushes him toward subspace faster than a flicker of humiliation.