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Will his stern, traditional idea of marriage roles become too over-whelming when he steps it up and recommends she change some of her bad habits?
Could Trish do more with her talent if she applied herself as Will suggests or will he have to apply his hand to her delicious bottom to encourage her daily practice?
There are very few men who can realistically be described as drop-dead handsome, but Willard Jay Whitman was amongst that select group.� Six-feet and three inches tall, Will was a twenty-eight-year old part-time paralegal and part-time construction worker with a ruggedly solid build. He had broad shoulders and washboard abs below a buff, tanned chest. Will possessed straight golden blonde hair that he wore in a ‘just below the ears’ haircut that was side-parted with a slice of heavy bangs coming down rakishly over one eye. Will had a warm, smooth complexion that he kept clean-shaven, regular features including an aquiline nose, thin lips, and bright blue eyes under naturally arched light brown eyebrows. Those lively eyes suggested depth of personality as well as a delightful sense of humor. Largely due to this multitude of physical assets, aided and abetted by an outgoing and sensitive personality, Will was used to having girls swoon over him and try, sometimes with great determination and creativity, to lock him into an intimate relationship.
However, Will remained single, a status he did not regret. Will had long ago made up his mind to enter his marriage pure.�
He was appalled by how common sexually transmitted diseases were these days and definitely did not want to fall into those lousy statistics. Will also had a very special and deeply personal reason to be wary. Will had been only seventeen years old when his Uncle Rob had died of AIDS. As far as anyone knew, Uncle Rob was not a drug user. What he had been was a very determined and aggressively promiscuous ‘ladies’ man’. Looking a lot like Will, Uncle Rob had used those good looks to enjoy many casual “hookups.” He had also paid a terrible price for his promiscuous ways. Even after all these years, Will was still haunted by the death of his uncle.
Will definitely did not want sex to become a death sentence or even something he would spend his life regretting.
More important than the diseases to Will, was that he wanted to be a real Dad to any children he might father rather than the sort of part-time, barely there “sperm donor” type of father. He had been blessed to have a Dad who was there when it counted, unlike so many of the kids with whom Will had attended school. A lot of his friends had never even known a “Dad” and some had been making do with a revolving group of “step-Dads” who left the lives of the kids as soon as they left the lives of the mothers.
Although he was not currently going steady with anyone, he and Trish Van der Vreken were starting to get rather serious. The two of them had been dating, off and on, for a little over a year. She was a senior at the local college, double majoring in English and History and working part-time as a model.
That Trish worked as a fashion model was hardly surprising since the young lady certainly looked like a model. Only a few inches shorter than Will (occasionally a hair-breadth taller than him when she wore high heels and he liked her to wear high heels), she was quite slim and had a lovely face, green cat-like eyes, a small turned up nose, large lips, straight pearl-white teeth, dimples when she smiled and a permanent soft chin dimple. Trish also possessed silky, corn-yellow blonde hair that she usually wore in long sculpted waves down to her shoulders.� Her breasts were not large, probably no bigger than a B-cup, but Will preferred oranges to grapefruits anyway.
Trish had perfect, straight posture that struck Will as positively regal. He liked to think of her as his princess. Although she could be anxious like anyone else, under most circumstances, she radiated confidence and poise, two qualities Will especially appreciated in his girl. There was also about her a sense of delicacy, something that he found enchanting because it made her so very feminine and Will was attracted to feminine women.
As the two of them dated, they learned that they had much in common. Will occasionally did volunteer work and Trish did as well, sometimes they spoke of working together in that.
Will was especially pleased when Trish told him she was a Christian. When he learned Trish was of his faith, he told her, “You know, Trish, I’m really happy that you have an intimate relationship with the Lord. It makes me feel sort of awkward when a woman I date is not a Christian.”
“I can understand why that would be, Will,” Trish said. “There’s an old saying: ‘Every date a potential mate.’ You wouldn’t want to marry a woman who wasn’t Christian, would you?”
“No, I sure wouldn’t,” he immediately agreed.
“Right,” Trish said, “me either.”
However, when they discussed the churches they attended, Trish told Will something that disappointed him. “I don’t attend church all that faithfully,” she admitted.
“But why not?” he asked.
“I just don’t like to get up early,” she answered. “I like to sleep in.”
“Well, maybe you should try another church,” he eagerly suggested. “The minister at my church preaches thought-provoking sermons.”
“That’s not the problem,” she said. “I’ve attended different churches. I just like to sleep late. That’s part of the reason I almost never sign up for a class that starts before the afternoon.”
Will had a twin sister named Wanda and a younger brother named Wayne (his mother was fond of the letter “W” and it showed). He was close to both of his siblings, but probably especially close to Wanda because of the “twin factor.” Trish had a younger half-brother to whom she was also quite close.
Both Will and Trish enjoyed reading with Will partial to detective stories and mysteries while Trish tended to prefer romance novels and classic literature. However, she had a strong taste for the Sherlock Holmes novels of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle � and introduced Will to them. He told her, “Oh, Trish, I’m so glad you got me to read the Holmes stories. They are the best!”
She answered, “Thanks, I’m always glad when I influence anyone for the better.” Then she bestowed a kiss on the side of his face.
One time when Will was on his way to pick Trish up at her dorm room, he was pleasantly surprised by the special sound of pretty music coming from within. It was quite unlike the radio music that she often played. When he knocked on her door, he was again surprised to see that she opened the door with a guitar strap hooked around herself.
Will smiled. “Gosh, Trish, I didn’t know you played the guitar.”
“Well, you just found out, didn’t you?” Trish brightly answered with that winning and inimitable smile that never failed to enchant him.
“Yes, I just found out.” He took a seat in the wooden chair before her desk. “Could you play something for me, Trish?”
“I’d be delighted,” she answered. “What would you like to hear?”
“I want to hear what you think you are good at playing,” he instantly answered.
“Sure, darling,” she said. She commenced to play one popular tune after the next. Each time she came to the end of a song, her very appreciative audience of one applauded enthusiastically.
Will liked being on Trish’s side of her dorm room. It was almost funny to see the contrast between the side that “belonged” to Trish and that claimed by her roommate, an attractive but singularly unfriendly and aloof young woman named BJ Szabo. Trish’s side of the room was neat as a pin and utterly denuded of dust. Will could easily tell where Trish’s clean part left off and her BJ’s musty, cluttered area began.
The walls of the dorm room were graced by several posters on both Trish’s side and BJ’s: two posters of Madonna, one of N’Sync, another of Mel Gibson, and another of Wishbone the dog dramatically decked out in medieval armor.
In that room were two yellow, somewhat waxy-topped desks with regular simple wooden chairs. Trish’s desk had a couple of notebooks neatly stacked upon the desk along with a small upright wooden cup filled with pens and pencils, a tiny pink colored pencil sharpener, and a calendar with each preceding day X-d out in bright red ink. By contrast, her roommate’s desk was a sloppy mess of papers and books and pens and pencils and fat pink erasers scattered hither and yon. Trish’s side of the room boasted a full bookcase with pasted labels under areas grouped with volumes devoted to specific subjects. Trish’s bed was tightly wrapped in a flowery printed bedspread.
Will could not help but think that Trish was a good housekeeper � a positive skill for a wife, at least if the marriage was relatively old-fashioned as Will hoped his future marriage would be.
The dorm room door was held open by a medium-sized oval-shaped trashcan decorated on the outside with petite paintings of dainty flowers. Trish sat on her bed and Willard on her chair beside her desk.
“I think that will be all for now, Will.” Trish smiled shyly as she pulled the guitar strap over her head and placed the instrument in a case that she then placed in the closet.
“You play beautifully, darling,” he told her.
She crinkled up her nose and smiled diffidently as she shook her head and remarked with a shrug, “No, I’m really not very good.”
“You sound good to me, baby.” His confident voice sent tingles into her tummy. “Admittedly, I’m a biased source, but I absolutely love the way you play, and your singing�your voice is amazing.”
As she often did, she looked down timorously, her pretty and winsome confusion sent a surge of protectiveness over him.
Will was not sure what an expert’s opinion would be on Trish’s skills but, in his admittedly biased opinion, he certainly thought she was talented.
It pleased Will to learn that Trish liked the outdoors and that she could hold her own when hiking a trail as he was something of the outdoors type. The two of them even went fishing together occasionally.
Will considered himself blessed to have grown up in a traditional home with a Mom and Dad. His parents were still married and still happy with their marriage, unlike so many of the people he knew. It was not a complete copy of the home in Leave It to Beaver, the classic TV show he’d grown up watching. His mother had worked outside of the home and had held a job even when Will was very small. He had been in a daycare center, but had no horror stories to tell about it. Instead, his memories of the Wee Ones Center were actually fond. His parents tended to divide household chores close to fifty-fifty and his Dad cooked more meals than his Mom did. Dad just seemed to enjoy cooking more than Mom did. The family was not perfect and had its share of arguments and squabbles but, overall, Will believed he came from a happy family.
Trish had not enjoyed a similarly secure upbringing. The first time she went deep into her upbringing with Will, the two of them sat in a grassy area on the college that many students whiled away some time on between classes or just when they had nothing else to do. It had been a pleasant day with the sun shining and just a few fluffy white clouds on the blue sky.� Other young people sat around in both pairs and larger cliques while some walked on a nearby walkway. Trish was garbed in a bright pink blouse with white lace at the neckline and cuffs and a crisply dark pair of blue jeans that she had recently purchased. Her feet were in a pair of pink sandals. Will wore a bright yellow t-shirt, a pair of khaki pants, and black tennis shoes.
Trish sounded sad as she told Will that her Mom had not been married when Trish was born. “I know who my father is but he wasn’t much in the picture when I was growing up,” Trish told Will. “I haven’t heard from him in ages.” During Trish’s childhood, her mother had married twice. The first marriage ended when her husband was killed in a car crash. The second marriage was still going strong.
“Do you consider your Mom’s present husband to be your Dad?” Will inquired.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s been my Dad for a long time.”
“How old were you when your present Dad came into the picture?” Will asked in a tone of genuine sympathy. He took a hand of hers in his and tenderly squeezed.
“I was ten when he started going with Mom and eleven when they got married,” she answered. “I love him now. He was the one who taught me to play the guitar. He plays in a band and teaches professionally.”
“In my admittedly amateur opinion, I think he’s taught you well,” Will said, arching his eyebrows appreciatively.
“Well, he’s my Dad.” She smiled broadly. Oh, how Will adored that smile!
�“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Will said. “Like the old saying goes, any male can be a father, it takes a real man to be a dad.”
“Is that one of the reasons you haven’t had sex, Will?” Trish asked. Her tone was quite serious: she knew this was not something about which to joke.
“Yes, one of the most important,” Will said. “If a child of mine is in the world, I definitely want to be a dad to him or her.”
“I think the lady who marries you will be very lucky.” She cuddled closer to him. She had never meant anything more strongly in her young life. “Would you like to see pictures of my family?”
“Sure would,” he answered.
Trish pulled out a red leather wallet from her purse. She opened up the compartments and showed Will some photographs. One was an obviously posed family photograph of Trish at about age twelve, a woman who powerfully resembled her, and a not-especially-handsome but the amiable appearing man with curly red hair.
“This is your Dad?” Will asked.
Trish nodded. “Yes, that’s him.”
Then Will looked at a picture of the same trio posed on a lawn in front of a modest house, but accompanied this time by a white and black dog that Will immediately recognized as a Jack Russell Terrier, like the canine star of the TV series Wishbone that Will knew was one of Trish’s favorite shows. Looking a couple of years older than in the previous photograph, a grinning and teenaged Trish, decked out in a red t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, was cuddling the dog.
“That was Gizmo,” Trish said of the pooch. “My Dad gave him to me as a gift. Dad also helped me learn how to take care of Gizmo and teach him tricks.” She waved a hand around in a fond gesture.
“He’s a real cute dog.” Will smiled whimsically as if recalling some fond memory.
“He was a wonderful dog,” she said. “He was just the friendliest, happiest, most loving dog you could possibly imagine.”
Since Trish said “was,” speaking of the dog in the past tense, Will asked in a tone of saddened sympathy, “So I guess he’s dead?”
Frowning, Trish let out a deep sigh before explaining, “Gizmo was killed by a car driving too fast. He was killed three years ago.”
Will saw tears in Trish’s eyes. He felt a sharp and sudden emotional tug. Her evident pain instantly aroused his sense of protectiveness.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in a pained voice. “I was there when the car hit Gizmo. It was awful, Will, just awful.”
“I’m so sorry,” Will said. Then he hugged Trish to comfort her. He was impressed by how deeply emotional she was. It made him feel that she should have a strong man to help her through the crises that will inevitably mark any life. Seeing that she could still get misty-eyed over a dog that had been killed years ago led Will to experience a powerful wave of protectiveness toward her. He made a silent vow to himself: he would try to be there for her when she needed his strength and support to get through rough times. Will wanted so much to help Trish, to comfort her and provide her with a shoulder upon which to lean during trying periods.
“Is Gizmo part of the reason you put a poster of Wishbone on your wall in your dorm room, Trish?” Will asked.
Her sad look brightened and she smiled wistfully as she simply replied, “Yes. I loved that show partly because Wishbone was a lot like Gizmo.”
It was a pleasant spring evening when Will drove his new car to the college to pick Trish up for a date. The car was a 2013 Cadillac Catera Sport that was jet black with white trim and that he had purchased only one week prior to this date. He was extremely proud of his new vehicle.
“Don’t you just love the way new cars smell, Trish?” Will asked as she settled into the passenger seat.� She was fetchingly garbed in a soft pink dress, white high heels, and white fishnet stockings. The dress came down to just below her knees and showed off her well-formed calves.� Her lipstick was baby pink and she had her eyes shadowed in dark shades of green and blue.� She wore a necklace made up of stained glass half-circles in alternating red and blue and gold-leafed leaves with a large red tear-shaped figure hanging down the center of it.� Little red circles of stained glass dangled from her ears.
“Yeah, Will, I do love the way it smells,” she replied with a smile, playfully bouncing her bottom on the car seat.� “All this fresh leather . . . but it doesn’t turn me on quite as much as some other smells.”
He glanced at her with a knowing smile and winked.� That sort of just vaguely suggestive talk amused Will. He also really loved watching her bounce her rear end of the car seat.
Trish winked back and her smile turned into an endearingly goofy grin. She let go with a giggle.
As usual, the two of them had fun, first taking in a movie and then dining out.� As he often did, Willard decided to invite himself into Trish’s dorm room for some after-dinner conversation and a bit of fun, arousing, cuddling. Unlike some of his Christian friends, Will was not against kissing and cuddling. He just believed, very strongly, that “the act” should be saved for the woman he loved and respected enough to make his wife.
Trish sat on her bed and Willard on her chair beside her desk.� The two held hands while they discussed their jobs, Trish’s classes, and current issues of the day. At a certain point, there was a lull in the conversation and Will commented, “Trish, I guess I better be going now.”� It was getting late.
“Oh, what’s the rush, darling?” Trish asked. She stuck her lower lip out in a dramatic pout. Will could never resist that beautifully childlike pout of hers.
“There is none, Trish,” Will replied with an easy grin and a shrug.
Then she came up to him and pushed herself against him for a kiss.� Will happily obliged:� their mouths met, first open but without tongue, and then Will slid his tongue inside her mouth.� Sensual hot chills ran up and down his spine and his hard-on raged.� He moved his hand against her breast and felt the stiffness of the excited nipples beneath her dress. She always wore either a slip or a half-slip or a camisole but she usually did not bind her breasts up in bras. However, Will began being concerned that there was the possibility of the two of them getting carried away with their desires of the moment and that this was a good time to just skedaddle before things went farther between them than they should.
“I do think I better be going,” he said as he pulled back.� “You know what I mean?”� He raised his eyebrows and gently squeezed her right shoulder. He believed Trish ought to know exactly what he meant and appreciate it.
But instead she shook her head and leaned in to kiss him again.� Her eyes were full of desire.� Her hand went right down to his crotch and she clutched at his aching and engorged shaft through the blue denim.
“Whoa! Young lady!” he exclaimed with a clear and sharp warning in his voice, pulling her hand firmly away.� It was then that he looked to the door and noticed for the first time that Trish had shut it.� “Hey, you know what my plans are, Trish. I’ve made it clear to you many times that I won’t do that sort of thing until I marry.”
“But please, Will, I want you to make love with me,” she said, her lovely green eyes full of yearning.� “I want it so badly, darling, so badly.”
Will cleared his throat. Then, very slowly and very clearly he told her, “No, ma’am.”
Suddenly she pulled up her skirt to reveal a very pretty pair of bright pink panties that were made even prettier by the decorations that looked like tiny red roses.
Will breath left him.� His pulse raced with lust so wild and powerful that it bordered on pain.
“No,” he said emphatically and turned to leave.
“Please, Will,” Trish said.� She ran around him to the door and looked at him through her sooty lashes�which she batted at him coyly.� “I bought some rubbers. We’ll be safe.”
“Trish, you’re making me mad!” he exclaimed. “You ought to at least be considerate enough to take ‘no’ for an answer.� Especially after we’ve had such long discussions about this and you know I’m going to wait for my wife and you know my reasons.”
“But, Will, we’re in love. We’ve been going together a long time! Come on, baby, let’s make love. I really, really want to.”
�“That’s no excuse, Trish,” he sternly told her.� He really was angry.� “You’ve put us in a bad situation, young lady!” he brusquely informed her, shaking his head to emphasize his disgusted disapproval. “What you’re doing is a very unladylike way to act, Trish. I want a woman who acts like a lady. I don’t like what you’ve been doing, Trish. I don’t like it one bit.” His eyes narrowed and he looked at her with obvious disapproval.
“Oh, Will, don’t be mad.� You should be flattered that I want you so much,” she told him.
“Well, I am upset and I think I’m quite justified in it, Trish. I also think you deserve to be punished for trying to be so free with someone whose standards you are very much aware of.”
She put her hand against his chest and once again, a powerful wave of lust rose across his skin.� “Will, I love you,” she said in a plaintive and sincere tone.� “I really do.”
“Since you’ve made sure we’ve got perfect privacy,” Will began with a glance toward the closed door, “We might as well get intimate, darling.”
A wide, open-mouthed grin crossed Trish’s lovely face. Her green eyes lit up.
“But we’re not going to have sex, Trish,” he informed her in a no-nonsense and deliberately stern voice as he firmly shook his head.
“But then� but how� Will, what?” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“Trish, I am going to give you a spanking for throwing yourself at me.” His low, dark tone made her tummy suddenly tense.
“Oh, Will!”� Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and a shaking hand covered her mouth in shock.� “How can you�”
“Don’t you think you deserve one, Trish?” he asked harshly, his blue eyes narrowed as he coldly stared at her.
She turned away from him.� Her mind was in torment.� Her hands tugged at her yellow hair as she frantically tried to sort through her thoughts.� Don’t you think you deserve one?�� She took a very deep breath and thought some more. Chills ran rapidly up and down her spine. She felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach and tighten painfully. She gazed down at her hands and then down at the linoleum floor. Don’t you think you deserve a spanking? She shut her eyes. She thought she deserved a spanking. She deserved a spanking.
“Well, Trish, I’m waiting,” Will impatiently told his would-be temptress. “Don’t you think you deserve a spanking for the way you’ve behaved with me this evening? Don’t you think so, Trish?”
She turned around to face him. Don’t you think you deserve a spanking? She looked at him and then down at the floor and then at him again. For a moment, she bit her lower lip.� “I guess . . . I guess. . . I guess . . .” she said haltingly.
“You guess what, darling?” he asked. His arms were crossed across his chest and he was frowning.
“I guess . . . you’re right, Will,” she slowly began.� Trish rubbed her hands together anxiously.� “I guess I deserve a spanking, Will,” she finally whispered.� Her eyes met his and a blush ran warmly and cruelly over her face.� She looked down at the floor in her embarrassment and shame, but could not hide the fact that her pretty face had turned as red as a ripe tomato.
Still frowning, Will sat down on her made bed.� “Get across my lap, Trish,” he curtly told her. “Right across my lap, young lady.”
Mortified and frightened, she said nothing, but did as she was told. She knew he was right and that she deserved a spanking for her bad behavior that evening. She had to accept this punishment because she knew it was deserved.
“Pull your dress up, Trish,” Will brusquely ordered.
“Okay,” she humbly replied. Then, with trembling hands, Trish pulled her dress up to her trim waist.
“And pull your panties down, Trish,” Will instructed.
She nodded and pulled her pretty pink panties down to expose two perky cheeks, pale as chalk, which were tightly clenched together in fear and humiliation.
Swat!� Will brought his powerful construction worker’s hand down on the temptress’s vulnerable naked buttocks.
Trish gasped but made no other sound. Cringing, she swallowed hard and prepared herself for more pain.
Will brought his powerful construction worker’s hand down swiftly and repeatedly, leaving thick pink splotches on Trish’s bottom.
“Oh! Oh! Ouch! Ow it hurts! Oh!!” Trish exclaimed as she was spanked. The swats stung and burned. Trish’s bottom hurt very badly and she moaned in pain.
He was hitting very hard now and her bottom was turning quite pink.� Will was surprised to find that he really enjoyed the way Trish’s lovely cheeks jiggled and danced as he disciplined the misbehaving young lady.� He held his palm down on her bottom for a moment after he swatted and rubbed the punished cheeks a bit to make her extra-wriggly when he took his hand away.
“Ouch! Ow! Oh! Willard! Oh! Aw!” Trish cried out.� She squirmed convulsively as the swats cruelly stung and burned her helpless bare bottom.
Willard was picking up speed and spanking her even harder.� He made sure both sides were a smooth blushing red color.
“Oh! Ouch! Oh! It hurts! ” Trish’s legs automatically kicked and she wriggled in response to the severe pain of the spanking. “Oh, Will, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Please be fair!� Haven’t I been punished enough?”� She craned her neck and looked at her boyfriend hopefully.
“No, you have not,” he firmly informed her.� “In fact, I think I ought to start spanking you with a ruler.� You have a ruler, don’t you, Trish?” He didn't give her time to delay before asking again. "I asked you a question, young lady. Do you have a ruler?"
“Yes, Will, I do,” she replied weakly and with a gentle nod.
“Then you can get up now.� But just long enough to get that ruler,” he told her in a singularly firm and no-nonsense tone of voice.
Trish rose and, without pulling her panties up from her thighs, took the step-and-a-half to her desk, opened the drawer, and took out a wooden ruler.� She handed it to Will and then took her place back across his lap again.
"Oh, it hurts�”
He liked the way her bottom turned very red as it bounced and jumped.
“Please stop, Will, please stop,” she pleaded in a tone that was almost pitiful.
“Just a few more, Trish,” Will assured her. “I’m almost finish