Ed and Lorraine: Loose Tongue

[domestic discipline] [M/f] [HoH] [otk] [spanking] [public humiliation]

Continued from: Ed and Lorraine: The Gratitude Clause

Let me tell you about that one evening at the Landgraabs’ house—Nancy and her husband Geoffrey’s place, you know. It was meant to be a simple get-together: drinks, a few hands of cards, the kind of relaxed night old friends share after the kids are grown and life has settled into its quieter rhythms. Ed and I had been looking forward to it; Geoffrey’s always got that dry wit that makes Ed chuckle, and Nancy… well, she’s my rock, the one who knows my secrets without needing to pry too deep. But as you’ll see, I let the wine get the better of me, and what started as light chatter turned into a moment that left my cheeks burning—and not just from the alcohol.

We arrived around seven, the house smelling of fresh-baked appetizers and that faint floral scent Nancy loves from her diffusers. Geoffrey poured the wine generously— a robust red that went down far too smoothly. We settled at the card table in their cozy den, laughing over old stories and the latest neighborhood gossip. But as the glasses emptied and refilled, the conversation drifted to politics. Now, mind you, we’re all adults, but it was one of those touchy topics that evening, with tensions running high in the world outside. I should have known better—Ed’s always been clear about keeping things civil, especially in mixed company—but the wine loosened my tongue. I started getting bold, sassy even, tossing out opinions that bordered on rude. 

“Oh, come on, that’s just nonsense.” 

I’d say with a wave of my hand, my voice a notch too loud, interrupting Geoffrey mid-sentence. Ed shot me a couple of warning glances, but I plowed on, feeling that impulsive fire in my belly that always signals trouble.

It wasn’t long before Geoffrey excused himself for a quick bathroom break, leaving just the three of us—Ed, Nancy, and me. The room felt smaller suddenly, the air thicker. Ed set his cards down slowly, his eyes locking onto mine with that stern, calm authority that makes my stomach flip. 

“That’ll be enough politics for tonight, Lorraine,” he said evenly, “and enough wine. We can chat about this when we get home.” 

His tone was mild to an outsider, but oh, that look—it pierced right through me, leaving no doubt. There’d be consequences later, at home: a firm discussion over his knee, my bare bottom upturned, his hand or belt teaching me the error of my ways until I was sobbing my apologies. My face flushed hot with instant regret and humiliation, right there in front of Nancy. I lowered my head, my hands fidgeting in my lap, and murmured, 

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” 

The words came out small, submissive, just as our dynamic demands.

And just like that, everyone carried on as if nothing had happened. Nancy cleared her throat lightly, shuffling the cards with a knowing smile playing at her lips, and we picked up the game. I adjusted my behavior immediately—sipping water instead of wine, keeping my comments light and agreeable. Geoffrey returned shortly after, none the wiser, and soon enough, the two gentlemen decided to step out onto the deck for a cigar, leaving Nancy and me alone in the den with the remnants of our snacks and half-empty glasses.

I must have looked a sight—fidgeting in my chair, my cheeks still pink, avoiding her gaze. Nancy leaned in, her voice soft but probing. 

“You’re in big trouble, aren’t you?” she asked, a mix of concern and curiosity in her eyes. I nodded slowly, humiliated to my core, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl caught out. 

She paused, then pressed gently, “Does this mean… a spanking?” 

Oh, how my heart raced at that word, spoken aloud between us. I nodded again, more emphatically this time, whispering, 

“Ohhhh yes!” 

With a wince, already imagining the sting, the tears, the childish pleas I’d make as Ed disciplined me thoroughly, ensuring I couldn’t sit comfortably for days.

Nancy reached over and squeezed my hand, consoling me with words like, “It’ll be okay, he’ll go easy,” but I could see the flicker in her eyes—that deep-down jealousy she’s confessed to me before. 

She envies the structure, the care in Ed’s dominance, the way it keeps our marriage so intimately bound. But there’s a small part of her, I think, that resents it too—maybe the independent streak in her that scoffs at submission, or perhaps just a touch of schadenfreude, enjoying the thought of her poised, put-together friend reduced to a spanked, sobbing mess over her husband’s lap. It stings a bit, that mix, but it’s honest between us.

The evening wound down not long after. Ed and I called a taxi, the cool night air a relief on my flushed skin. As we hugged goodbye at the door, Nancy pulled me close and whispered devilishly in my ear, 

“Good luck,” with a wink that sent a shiver down my spine. 

I managed a weak smile, knowing exactly what awaited me, and we slipped into the cab, the ride home heavy with anticipation.

Sincerely, 

Ed and Lorraine W. 

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