Betty and John. The first violence occurred in the early days of their marriage. Betty could not be considered a natural bully, and nobody would have called John weak. In fact when she first struck him after a trivial argument they were both deeply shocked. Unfortunately they were both shocked in totally different ways and they both misunderstood the reaction of the other. When Betty slapped his face John was stunned - but he immediately assumed Betty was both ashamed and regretful. As the 'injured party' with right on his side he thought that the most appropriate response was one of dignified silence until she was ready to apologise. He was ready to 'forgive and forget' after a suitable period of withdrawal. Betty was also shocked - but shocked in the way a child his shocked when she has acted outrageously and dangerously - fearful of the consequences but quietly proud of her bravery. When she saw what John thought of as 'dignified silence' she saw a grown man sulking like a sullen child. 'Like a big baby' She said to herself. John's meek and disciplined reaction, instead of calming the situation, actually fuelled her anger. The spark that had caused her explosive violence was now a smouldering fire of resentment. Mentally she found it easy to blame her husband. Over the next few days John's resentment at her lack of apology grew, and her simmering anger at what she saw as girlish sulking was also ready to boil over. So, when John came home late and smelling of drink, Betty lost control. Asking him where he'd been and hearing him say, 'None of your business.' - was 'the trigger! John was knocked sideways against the front door by the force of her open-handed slap. The next blow, hitting John as he was staggering off-balance sent him sprawling to his knees. The sight of her husband grovelling on all fours before her sent Betty's already rocky emotions into total confusion. The shame at her loss of control simply added to her hatred of the cause - John! The intense and alien excitement she experienced was instantly replaced with guilt, which in turn was replaced by rage at the cause - John! She didn't in fact kick her husband. She kicked out at the anger, the guilt and the shame that consumed her. And for the first time John was afraid of this strange woman he'd married. It did in fact occur to him as she repeatedly hammered his ribs with her kicks that he could grab her, pull her down. Fight her. But instinctively he understood that the intensity of her rage was such that it would take considerable, and almost certainly dangerous levels of force to subdue her. Basically a law-abiding and logical man he was mentally incapable of meting out to this woman that level of violence. He rolled up into a ball and waited for her anger to subside. When finally she stopped kicking him Betty was exhausted. She couldn't simply walk away - she knew she had to justify, at least to herself what had happened, what she had done. It couldn't possibly be her fault. 'You asked for that!' She gasped. Standing directly and threateningly above the cowering wretch at her feet she hissed, 'Don't you EVER speak to me like that. Don't you ever treat me like dirt!' John was bemused. Could he really be to blame? He was too sore and too scared to argue. Betty helped her groaning husband to bed. The next day it was clear he would not be able to work. Betty telephoned and said he'd had a nasty fall. Betty brought him his meals and fussed over him as though he were a sick child. Gently she scolded him for being foolish enough to make her angry. And John flinched every time she moved! For the next few days they were like strangers living in the same house. Polite to each other and careful not to provoke. After several weeks of peace John assumed that life could continue normally. Until the day her mother came to visit. Betty had warned him the day she arrived. 'I want you to be a perfect gentleman. And please wear something smart.' She said. John nervously dressed in a smart blue suit and grey tie. Betty was not satisfied. 'I don't like to tie.' She said, 'wear this one.' Straightening his new tie, brushing lint off his jacket she examined him carefully. 'Alright,' she said, 'I want you to open the door to her, show her into the lounge and then make a pot of tea.' John hesitated. There was nothing shocking about being asked to make a pot of tea - and yet he instinctively understood that she was challenging him in some way. Their eyes met. And locked. 'Don't make me angry.' She told him in a hard-edged tone. John lowered his eyes and tried to find a way of retreating gracefully. But Betty had seen the flicker of fear in his eyes - she sensed his shame. And she experienced a sudden sharp thrill. 'And wear a pinny!' She added maliciously. John looked up - his eyes wide, 'ButÖ' 'I don't want you ruining that suit.' She said, 'So don't look at me like that.' John opened his mouth but she interrupted him. 'Listen to me. If you spoil Mummy's visit I'll hurt you! That's a promise. Now - are you going to be difficult, or what?' John backed away from her. 'Alright, alright.' He whispered despairingly. 'It's not worth a fight.' Betty felt a warm glow. A satisfaction that excited her. Running her eyes over her smart and handsome husband she wondered if there was time for sex. John cringed as he sensed her aroused state. The door bell rang. John paled. She smiled. 'When Mummy's gone,' She said, her voice thick with excitement, 'I want you in here. Understand?' John's chest tightened, and incredibly he too was excited. 'Yes.' He muttered. 'Alright, what are you waiting for. Open the door, Mummy is waiting!' Betty's mother was a thin mean-looking woman with a waspish tone and a sneering expression. When John opened the door she stalked past him without a word. 'Betty's in the lounge.' He told her opening the door. The woman nodded and he fled to the safety of the kitchen. He quickly prepared tea and biscuits, placed it all on a silver tray and paused. He usually wore an apron when doing any kind of housework - and yet somehow doing so in front of his mother-in-law disturbed him. He'd seen the pure mischief in Betty's eyes when she'd ordered him to wear a pinny. It was a crudely calculated humiliation. But even the thought of disobeying her gave sent a chill up his spine. Reluctantly, telling himself he would speak to her about this later, John chose the plainest of her pretty aprons. A navy blue nylon tea-apron with a square skirt. Wrapping it about his neat waist he felt ridiculous and strangely vulnerable. Tying the wide apron strings into a bow at his back John felt his mouth go dry, his heart was hammering in his chest and he experienced a moment of such intense shame he thought he might faint. Swallowing hard he picked up the tray and walked stiffly towards the lounge. The two women looked up as he entered. John tried to smother his mounting panic, tried to avoid their eyes. He'd never experienced this type of embarrassment in his life. His face went hot, his eyes went moist, and he realised with a terrible shock he was on the verge of real tears. Fighting to control he placed the tray on the small table and took a deep breath. Betty poured milk into a cup saying, 'Sit down John. Mummy's being telling me about her holiday.' John reached behind him, he wanted to apron off as soon as possible. 'Leave it on!' Betty said sharply. John froze. Waited for an explanation. 'Sit!' His wife said. John sat. His mother-in-law sneered and he felt his face burn. He knew his face, indeed his neck, had gone a deep shaming red. Betty ignored him. Her mother eyed him carefully over her tea-cup. John didn't know what to do with his hands. Placing them in his lap only served to highlight his pretty apron skirt. Betty handed him a cup of tea. And as he sipped the two females gossiped. He was on the verge of regaining his poise when Betty ordered him to clear away the tea things. He blushed when her mother whispered, 'You've trained him well.' His anger was intense now. Slamming the cups and saucers onto the tray he left the room quivering with anger, shame and a touch of fear. Ripping the tea-apron from his waist for the next hour he skulked fearfully in the kitchen. Eventually he heard voices in the hall, and her mother saying farewell. And Betty's high heels clicking menacingly towards the kitchen. She stared at him for an age. Her mouth a thin mean line of anger. Her face pale and set. 'Why aren't you upstairs?' She wanted to know. 'What?' He gasped - he'd forgotten her demand that he should return to the bedroom. She moved toward him her hands rigid planks by her side. 'And why aren't you wearing a pinny?' He blinked. Backed away from her seething rage. 'And why,' She hissed as he was trapped in the corner of the small kitchen, 'why did you ruin my mother's visit?' John was terrified. Her eyes were shiny with a glittering madness. 'I, I'm sorry.' He mumbled. Wanting to calm her, feeling the need to deflect at least part of her anger he was willing to say almost anything. Betty took a deep shuddering breath. Unbuckling her leather belt, sliding it purposefully from her waist she pointed to a kitchen chair. 'Bend over!' John could hardly believe what he was hearing. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Betty grabbed the front of his shirt and threw him bodily towards the chair. 'If you don't bend over that chair right now I'll drag you into the garden and thrash you in front of the neighbours. Bend!' There was a horrible, terrible moment when John actively considered running for it. But he recognised the sheer intensity of her anger and intuitively knew she would not let him get away. That the consequences of refusal and flight would be far worse than what she wanted to do to him with her belt. Shaking with fear, loathing and shame he lowered himself over the back of the wooden framed chair. 'Drop your pants.' Her voice shaking with emotion. John closed his eyes. He didn't, couldn't move. His humiliation at that point was total. Betty bent over him, fumbled at his belt, and suddenly, shockingly his trousers fell from his hips to his ankles! Tears that had threatened all afternoon rolled down his cheeks. Sobbing quietly John flinched as she dragged his underpants down baring his buttocks and thighs. She stepped back and swung the belt. John thought later that the tiny moment of time before the belt hit his bare flesh was the most excruciatingly painful period in his life. Sheer terror! But the pain was horrendous. Betty is a big strong woman and all of her anger and hatred towards this once-manly husband added power to that first stroke. SMACK! John's whole body quivered. He would have howled with pain but the shock drove the breath from his body. SMACK! The second blow made him cringe. He attempted to block the third with his hands but the force was too much. SMACK! John squealed! SMACK. He writhed, moaned, sobbed. SMACK! Pulling away from the chair, away from her belt John begged. 'Betty I'm sorry. Really! Please, no more. Please!' His wife stared at him as though seeing a stranger in her kitchen. Her chest heaved, her hair fell over her eyes, her eyes still retained that gleaming insanity. 'Why?' She asked softly, 'Why are you sorry?' John paused, rubbed his smarting flesh. Frowning he answered carefully, 'I'm sorry I ruined your mother's visit.' 'And what else?' She wanted to know as she swung the belt from side to side. With his eyes on the belt John whispered, 'I'm sorry I didn't wear the pinny, and I'm sorry I didn't go upstairs.' 'And how are you going to make amends?' She asked. 'I'll be extra nice and polite next time your mother visits?' John warily replied. 'You'll call her, apologise for your beastly behaviour, and invite her to call again?' John nodded. 'Of course.' Her eyes bored into him. 'Take your clothes off.' She said calmly, 'get naked. Now!' John dropped his eyes and numbed with fear he removed his clothes. Shivering naked in the kitchen, with his wife still swinging the heavy leather belt he waited. 'Put your pinny on.' He licked his lips. This was all desperately embarrassing but at least she appeared calm. He nervously reached for the navy blue apron. 'Not that one.' Betty said. John dithered. Opening a drawer he stared down at a pile of frilly aprons and pinafores. On the top of the pile was a pale pink full-bibbed apron with white piping around its full skirt and 'sweet-heart' bodice. Holding the exceptionally pretty apron against his body, he looked at Betty for approval. Betty nodded. And John recognised the look on her face. She was aroused. Looping the halter-neck of the pinny over his head, John swiftly fastened its wide apron strings tightly about his waist. Betty ran her eyes over her husband. 'Come.' She hissed. He followed her into the hallway. She pointed to the phone. 'Call Mummy. Apologise and ask her, no beg her to come back for a drink. Do it!' John obediently dialled her mother's number. When she answered he immediately apologised. 'I had no right to treat you like that. Please come back. I'd like to make amends personally.' He told her. She said she was on her way1 John replaced the phone. 'She's on her way.' 'All right, we'll start again. When she arrives, let her in and show her into the lounge. Then make two vodka martinis and serve them on a tray. Have you got that?' John blinked, 'Like this?' He exclaimed. He was wearing nothing but the pink apron. Betty appeared to consider. 'I see what you mean.' She kicked off her own white court shoes. 'Wear these as well.' John pleaded with her. 'Betty please. Not like this. I'm begging you.' Again she paused, 'No. We can't have Mummy staring at your naked bottom when you serve our drinks can we?' John felt relief surge through him. But her words drenched him with shame. 'Wear a pair of my panties.' Their eyes met. She cracked the belt like a whip. 'Go upstairs and find a pair of my prettiest, sexiest panties. Do it!' John fled. When her mother arrived John was standing mute and robot-like in the hallway. He was wearing the apron, a pair of white court shoes with a four-inch heel, and a pair of sleek satin panties - bright pink panties that almost matched the colour of his face! Just before he opened the door Betty added, 'And don't forget, as soon as she's gone. Upstairs!' John swallowed painfully. And nodded. 'I won't forget.' Her mother giggled. John cringed. Tottering with her towards the lounge on his high-heeled shoes was the most humiliating encounter of his life. And he was glad to escape into the kitchen When he returned with the tray of drinks, when he bent low to serve her mother he couldn't stop tears of utter shame scalding his cheeks. 'John wants to apologise for his behaviour.' Betty prompted. John sniffed, 'I'm truly sorry for what happened. It won't happen again.' Betty spoke to her mother, 'I gave him a hiding but if you think he needs more just say so.' John bit his lip. Surely she wasn't inviting her mother to punish him. Her mother looked at him and he sensed her excitement. 'What did you use, a belt?' Betty nodded, 'Yes. I don't think he liked it very much. He's such a big baby.' 'Sometimes a good over-the-knee spanking can be even more effective.' The older woman said casually as though discussing her shopping list. Betty grinned. 'You're still angry aren't you Mummy?' 'Yes. John's behaviour was disgraceful. But if he's willing to accept a spanking from me we can forget that it ever happened.' John swayed on his high heels. His knees went weak. He stared at his wife waiting for her to refuse. Betty's words turned his blood to ice water. 'It's not a matter of John accepting anything. If you think he needs a spanking - then a spanking he will get.' Her mother shook her head. 'No no. It's so much better if John agrees to it. If John acknowledges that he was wrong and that we have the right to punish him, and accepts the punishment with good grace he is taking a big step towards proper respect and obedience. Force simply leads to sullen-ness and resentment. We both want John to enjoy his new role.' John blinked. 'New role?' The older woman's eyes went wide. 'You haven't told him?' Betty shrugged, 'I was too angry. You can explain everything after you've spanked him.' 'Explain what?' John asked with mounting agitation. Betty frowned at his impertinence but her mother was soothing. 'Don't you know why you're wearing Betty's clothes?' John shook his head. 'We're going to turn you into a housewife.' She said calmly, 'for the next few weeks at least you'll be dressed like a wife, and treated like a wife in the kitchen and in the bedroom!' 'And you'll be punished daily until you obey without hesitation!' Betty added spitefully. 'Now John, bend over my lap. I'm rather looking forward to spanking you.' Her mother told him gently. Incredibly he obeyed. John leaned over her skirted lap and rested himself on her heavy thighs. Her arm went around his waist. Her free hand caressed his buttocks through his pink satin panties. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!