CHAPTER 16
Chris
I made my way down the front hall to Mark and Megan’s living room and entered to find exactly what Mark had described on the phone. Seeing it in person hit differently, though.
Megan was bent over the arm of the couch, her skirt folded up over her back, her white cotton panties pulled down to her knees. Her bare bottom was pale and vulnerable, already tensed in anticipation of what was coming. And there, on the couch, sat my wife—my beautiful, wayward Valerie—her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with horror.
“Thank you for calling me, Mark,” I said, keeping my voice level despite the anger simmering in my chest. “I’ve been looking for her for two hours.”
“Found her here about half an hour ago,” Mark replied, the paddle hanging loosely in his hand. “Megan knew better than to harbor her without calling you.”
I nodded, then pulled out my phone. “I need to make a quick call before we get started.” I dialed Mrs. Chen’s number, watching Valerie’s face go even paler as she realized who I must be calling.
“Mrs. Chen? It’s Chris Pelletier.”
The woman’s calm voice replied, as clear and reassuring as ever.
“Chris, hello. You found Valerie?”
“Yes, I found her. She’s at her friend Megan’s house, just like you thought. Megan’s husband Mark called me.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Chen replied. “Tutorials can sometimes have this sort of effect. You remember what I said about her reaction to the new panties?”
“Sure,” I replied, my eyes fixed on Valerie’s reddening face and panicked eyes. “Valerie’s response to that kind of training is definitely really strong. What do you recommend for the situation now? Mark’s getting ready to paddle Megan in front of us. Is that a good approach?”
Valerie’s eyes were locked on me, her whole body trembling as I listened to Mrs. Chen’s response. My eyes wandered over to where Mark stood over the softly whimpering Megan. The rightness of the scene as a model for traditional marriage strengthened my resolve to bring the same kind of understanding to my own home.
“I see,” I said into the phone. “That makes sense. Thank you, Mrs. Chen.” I hung up and looked back at my wife.
“Mrs. Chen thinks it’s very appropriate for you to watch Megan’s punishment,” I said quietly. “And she thinks you should watch it wearing nothing but those special panties she had you put on today.”
A sob tore from Valerie’s throat. “Chris, please?—”
“After that,” I continued, my voice hardening, “I’m going to punish you right here as well. Mark and Megan are going to watch, just as you’re watching now. Mrs. Chen believes you need to understand the consequences of running away from your husband.”
I turned to Mark. “If you don’t mind waiting a moment while Valerie prepares herself?”
“Not at all,” Mark said. “Take your time.”
I looked at my wife, who sat frozen on the couch, her face a mask of shame and terror. “Stand up, Valerie. Take off everything except those panties Mrs. Chen gave you.”
“Here?” The word came out as barely a whisper. “In front of Mark?”
“You should have thought about the consequences before you ran away,” I said. “Now stand up and do as you’re told.”
Her hands shook as she rose to her feet. Tears streamed down her face as her fingers went to the buttons of her blouse. I watched her fumble with them, each one seeming to take an eternity. The blouse fell away, revealing her modest white bra.
“Everything,” I reminded her. “Except the panties.”
She unhooked her bra with trembling fingers, her face burning crimson as it fell away. Her small breasts were exposed, nipples hard from fear or arousal—probably both. Then her skirt, her slip, until she stood in just those naughty backless panties Mrs. Chen had described to me on the phone.
The front was delicate white lace, almost innocent. But when she turned slightly, I could see how the back was completely open, with just thin strips around her thighs, leaving her bottom absolutely bare. The welts from the switch were still faintly visible across her pale cheeks.
“Sit back down,” I commanded. “Keep your hands in your lap. Watch what happens when wives make poor choices.”
Valerie sank onto the couch, her arms instinctively moving to cover her breasts before my look made her lower them. She sat there nearly naked, her bottom pressed against the leather cushion, her face a study in mortification.
I turned to Mark and nodded. “Please go ahead.”
