Properly Paddled for a "Tramp Stamp" Tattoo

Dear 1950s Wife:

Every year a carnival comes to our suburb's downtown for a week. Normally I go on Saturday with my husband to cheer him on in the basketball throw, skee ball, "hammer the head of the pop-up mole" and other games of skill.

It's kind of dull, actually, because my husband is so competitive that he usually spends most of our carnival budget on his games. The only game he lets me play is the one where you pick up a floating toy duck to try to win a prize and sometimes we don't even have enough money left over to ride the Ferris wheel at the end of the night.

But this year a girlfriend and I thought it would be lots of fun to sneak out on a weekday to go to the carnival while our husbands were at work in the city. We had a blast going on the tilt-a-whirl, roller coaster, bumper cars and other rides my husband never lets me enjoy.

 We broke our diets eating funnel cakes. And we played all the games, including "smack the pop-up mole." I won a lot more prizes than my husband because I don’t get angry from missing a mole's head just once and hammer the same mole hole over and over again like he does.

My friend and I also decided to get temporary "tramp stamp" tattoos that said "Hoochie Mama."

We went on the Ferris wheel for our last ride of the day. I guess I must have had a sugar overload from too much funnel cake because, halfway through the ride, I stood up, turned to the side and lowered my jeans and panties halfway down my butt so people below could get a good look at my tramp stamp just above my ass crack.

I got home well before my husband arrived from work and washed off my temporary tattoo. I had a really good sugar buzz because I did a full day of housework and got dinner together in no time.

I had such a good time and I really thought I got away with it.

But I wound up getting busted! Unbeknownst to me, my arch enemy was in the crowd below the Ferris wheel taking pictures of me on her cell phone.

You see, some years ago in college there a sorority pledge I was in charge of named Carla who was a bit wide in the behind.

I guess I went a little overboard beating her ass with my sorority paddle during Hell Week and calling her "Carla Chubby Cheeks" and "Lil' Miss Fatty Fanny." I thought it was all in good fun, but Carla turned out to be the sensitive type who can't take a joke. She tattled to the dean and Daddy had to make big donation to the college to keep me from getting expelled.

Carla dropped out of the sorority and transferred schools and I figured I'd never see her again. But my husband's corporation recently hired a new CEO. Based on my husband's recommendation, the CEO bought a big house in our suburb and joined our country club.

And guess who's Mrs. CEO? "Carla Chubby Cheeks" aka "Lil' Miss Fatty Fanny."

Carla's ass is really fat now, but I can't even be snippy to her at the country club. Instead I must complement her on her designer clothes, fabulous jewels and lovely haircut.

A few weeks ago, my husband and other middle-management employees were invited to dinner at the CEO's/Carla's house. My husband told me to be nice or else, so I had to "ooh and ah" at the household furnishings and complement Carla on her wonderful cooking even though I'm sure she had the meal catered.

The food was good. I know Carla liked it because she ate half the hors d'oeuvres and had three helpings of everything during dinner. I swear I even caught her out of the corner of my eye licking her plate clean.

When I'm gardening or walking the dog, I sometimes see Carla huffing-and-puffing along the sidewalks in our neighborhood as she does her fitness walks. She wears really expensive track suits in bright colors with "Trophy Wife" stitched on the back.

Of course I looked out for Carla at the carnival, but maybe her track suits were at the drycleaners because I must have missed her. I would never have done half the stuff I did at the carnival if I knew Carla was around to spy, especially not show off my tramp stamp above my ass crack while riding the Ferris wheel.

The day after the carnival my husband was in a really bad mood when he got home from work. I greeted him at the doorway as usual with a kiss on the cheek and a martini in hand and he drank it down in one gulp.

Then he told me to follow him to the living room for a "talk" and my heart skipped a beat.

My husband said the CEO called him into his office that morning. The CEO told my husband he might be promoted, but there are few openings and many competitors. To be promoted, my husband must be perfect at his job and also have the right sort of look that says "upper-management material."

The CEO said a middle manager's wife must also have the right appearance if the couple hopes to climb the corporate ladder. And while the CEO is not against tattoos per se -- in fact, he had "Property of CEO" tattooed on Carla's butt after they got married -- a wife does not project the proper corporate image by showing off her "tramp stamp" and ass crack in public.

Then my husband whipped out his cell phone and showed me a photo that clearly showed the back of me on the Ferris wheel and the temporary "Hoochie Mama" tattoo above my ass crack. I tried to tell him it wasn't me, but my husband told me to spare him my lies, he'd recognize my butt crack anywhere. Besides, Carla took the picture and told her husband everything.

My husband told me to go upstairs to the bedroom, take off all my clothes and bring down the "naughty girl paddle." I did as instructed and came back to the living room. I gave him the spanking implement, a smallish paddle a half-inch thick with holes drilled in it. My husband only uses it on me when I'm really bad. Believe you me, it stings like the dickens!

I stood before my husband with my arms at my side as he held my chin with his hand. He lectured me forever in a really stern voice about how foolish I'd been to put his career prospects at risk. And that my duty as a submissive spouse was to support him in his job in every way possible including looking and acting the part of the perfect corporate wife.

Then my husband told me he was going to put me over his knee and paddle my bare bottom till tears and snot flowed to ensure I'd never be so naughty again.

So he spanked me. And spanked me. And spanked me some more. I cried and screamed and yelled "Please Daddy!" Finally my husband let me up. I kneeled before him, kissed the paddle and his hand, and said the required words:

"Thank you for spanking me Daddy. I know you do it because you love me and care about how I behave. I love you."

Then I was sent to the corner to stand with my scarlet red bottom on display while my husband ate dinner. After an hour, my husband told me to go upstairs to bed. No supper for me that night.

I figured that would be the end of it. But the next morning as I was clearing away the breakfast dishes, my husband told me the CEO e-mailed him last night after I went to bed with an excellent suggestion. It seems Carla had told her husband she briefly knew me in college before deciding to transfer to an academically superior school after one semester. (What a lie! She left because she dropped out of our super-cool sorority.)

Carla remembered me as being "good-hearted" but "a bit of a rube" (WTF?!) who could do with schooling in the proper ways of corporate wifedom. She kindly offered to spend a week teaching me to look, act and dress to better ensure my husband scales the career ladder. Carla even offered to send one of her maids over to clean for a week so I can devote myself full-time to her tutelage.

My husband gave me a quick peck on the cheek and headed out the door.

"I know Carla's a real fat ass, but you got to put up with it," he said as he left. "My career's at stake."

Just as the door closed my cell phone beeped. A text message from Carla:

"Be here in 30 minutes. And bring your sorority paddle!"

Ut oh.

"Naughty Charts" and Demerit Books for Wives

Dear 1950s Wife:

For major misbehavior, my husband spanks me on the spot with this stingy OTK paddle that hurts like heck. But for minor misdemeanors, he puts a checkmark on a "naughty chart" he's stuck to the refrigerator.

Along with minor housekeeping errors, some of the things I get checkmarks for include forgetting to call my husband "Daddy," not curtsying after he's given me a command or failing to address every man I speak to at least 21 years of age or older as "sir." Once he's put a sufficient number of checkmarks on my chart, my husband marks up my bare bottom with his cane: one stripe for every check.

Our refrigerator was on the blink, so the repairman came by the other day while my husband was at work. Of course he saw my chart with my name in big bold letters and plenty of check marks next to descriptions of my misdeeds.

The repairman told me, "My, my, you folks sure are strict with your daughter." As my husband forbids me to lie, I had to admit that we have no children. The repairman chuckled and starting calling me "little missy" rather than "ma'am." It was really embarrassing.

As a good submissive wife, I agree with my husband spanking me. But don't you think he's going overboard using a naughty chart? Can't he just keep track of stuff I do wrong in his head?

Good woman:

Goodness, gracious me, of course he's not being excessive in using a chart.

Keeping accurate records is a manly virtue. While it may be hard for we womenfolk with our flighty ways to understand, men are drawn to facts, figures and the "bottom line." That's why they're so much better suited than the fair sex for the business world!

Along with accuracy, posting a naughty chart on the refrigerator where visitors can see provides you a much needed dose of humilation. The teasing you receive helps keep you humble and submissive, qualities the good wife strives to present all the time.

However, I don't agree with the repairman calling you "little missy" rather than "ma'am." To prevent a repairman from taking such liberties in future, an older male relative who's retired should come by to chaperon if repairs must be done while your husband's at work. This procedure will also ensure the work is done properly, as I'm certain you're like most women, me included, and have absolutely no idea how mechanical things operate.

Due to my zeal for obedience, my husband decided the humiliation of posting a "naughty chart" on the refrigerator isn't needed to accompany my spankings. However, I do keep a demerit book to write down all the little things he catches me doing wrong. (Like you, I'm also spanked immediately for major offenses.)

Whenever I've accumulated sufficient demerits, Hubby puts me over his knee, bares my bottom and spanks my naughty behind. I must read aloud from my demerit book while he's spanking me, which can be hard to do because I'm usually crying so loud near the end that it's hard to talk.

Once the spanking is concluded, I kneel before my husband, kiss his hand and say "Thank you Daddy for spanking me so hard. I know you do it because you love me and care how I behave."

I Love "Lucy Spankings"

I rarely watch television.

My husband forbids me from turning on the set during weekdays while he's at work to promote increased productivity in household chores. And the TV is reserved for his use at night and on weekends to view football games, boxing matches, stock market reports and other manly subjects that I of course take no interest.

I feel like such a wet blanket at luncheons with my non-submissive girlfriends when they chatter about the latest hit shows. But at our next hen party I'll be the bird with the word on TV viewing as I've discovered a really funny situational comedy.

My husband was on a business trip this past week. Mother-in-law, who lives in the nursing home since father-in-law passed away, stayed with me. Her watchful eye ensured no slacking off in darning my husband's socks, nor breaking my diet eating bonbons and other forbidden treats, nor exceeding my allotted 15 minutes daily telephone time gossiping with other wives.

My husband allowed the TV on for 30 minutes each day so mother-in-law could watch her favorite show. I sat next to her on the couch. Normally I wouldn't have looked up from my knitting, but this program was so funny I just had to sneak a peak.

The show is filmed in black and white and vintage fashions add to the retro look. The main characters are husband and wife, Ricky and Lucy, who look to be in their 30s, and an older couple who live in the apartment upstairs complete the cast.

Lucy is quite the character, let me tell you! She's gets in the most amusing mishaps, most of which result from scheming with Ethel, the older lady. Ethel's husband Fred is something of a fuddy-duddy though nice. But Ricky, pitter patter, pitter patter, be still my beating heart. So good-looking with the most charming Spanish accent!

And guess what? When Lucy messes up, Ricky turns her over his knee and soundly spanks her sassy bottom. Good for him! I would have thought such politically-incorrect, but thoroughly manly, behavior would not feature so prominently in a modern TV show.

The program is called "I Love Lucy." Check your local TV listings for time and channels in your city.