Priorities: Emma learns a lesson about priorities, obedience, and manners. [M/f] [D/s] [Domestic Discipline] [Spanking] [Belt] [Romantic] [Loving] [Caretaking] [Emotional]

[This is original content and is a sequel to my previous stories, Her First Time and Driving Home the Lesson, but they can be read in any order.]

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Emma paused as the mouse pointer hovered over the 'send' button, and decided to read through the email again. She might have read it ten times already, but she suddenly thought it might have the wrong tone. Was it too friendly? She scrolled down and read her boss's email again first. Formal, friendly, but professional. Ok. Then she scrolled up and read her own reply: a long message, a formal report in all but name, with multiple sections and attachments. After several minutes, she got to the end and sighed. It was ok. She couldn't think of an improvement. Time to send. She shifted in the office chair, uncomfortable after a long day at work.

Wait. Were the attachments the right ones? Emma opened them again one-by-one to check. Yes. Everything was in its place. It really was time to send. She took another deep breath and... after a pause... clicked the button.

She felt a moment of panic - had she copied in the right people? She quickly went to the sent folder and scanned through the recipients. Yes. Ok. That was everything. Was it everything? Was there something else she'd missed? She felt the now familiar tight sensation in her stomach... a sense that something bad was going to happen, that she'd forgotten something, that it wasn't right. But she didn't know what. She glanced at the clock and winced: 7:10pm. She'd told John she'd be home by now. How had another 40 minutes passed? She looked around the office and realised that everyone else had gone home again. Why was this happening every single day?

She couldn't check the email again. It was too late anyway. She logged off and quickly stuffed her phone and her water bottle into her bag, checking her desk for any stray paperwork, and then grabbing her coat and walking towards the exit. She ran down the stairs to the car park and rushed to the car, hoping she wasn't going to be too late to meet her friends later. As she pulled out onto the main road, Emma sighed and wondered what had gone wrong. She'd been so excited about this new job. She knew it was going to be more responsibility, but it was relentless, and she didn't feel like she was coping. She felt anger, but at who? At the company? They just had high standards. At her boss? Everybody else seemed to get on well with him. At John, for supporting her when she said she was thinking about applying? Or at herself, for not coping when everybody else could? She felt desperately tired, and frustrated, and... useless. She sighed and turned the radio up, focusing on the road.

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As John took the dish out of the oven, he glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall: 7:43pm. He looked at his phone again and checked the time of his wife's last message saying she was just about to leave work: 6:25pm. It was only half an hour's drive from her new office, and so he presumed she'd been delayed - again. He placed the dish on the worktop and began to write another text, only to hear a key in the front door and the door open. He put his phone away and took some plates from the cupboard, beginning to put the food on the plates. He heard Emma slam the front door and walk quickly into the kitchen.

"Oh... you cooked again! I was going to do that," she protested, before looking at the clock. She sighed. "Oh, it's later than I realised. Sorry."

"It's ok baby, don't worry. I know work's been crazy for you. How was it today?"

John tried to keep the concern out of his voice. He knew Emma was tired and that despite working ridiculously hard to make the new job a success, she felt like she was losing the battle. He also knew that she didn't cope well with long hours and stress, and he worried that she was finding things more difficult than she admitted. He noticed the dark rings under her eyes. At five foot and three inches tall and with a slender frame, she was naturally small, but he thought she looked even thinner than normal, and was concerned that she was losing weight.

Emma put her bag on the table and sat down heavily. "Tiring. There's just so much to do... and I feel like I'm not taking anything in. I've been there for three months and I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. I thought I was actually going to leave on time today, and then my boss emailed to remind me of something he wanted for tomorrow. Only it was the first I'd heard of it! He hadn't told me! But I couldn't say that. I had to just do it... and it took me two hours. Ugh sometimes I wish I'd never applied for this job. I just don't think I can do it. I think they made a mistake."

John walked over to the table with a plate in each hand and put them down, one in front of Emma and one for himself. Next to Emma, he looked even taller than the six foot that he was. He had an athletic frame, with dark hair and blue eyes. He bent down and kissed the top of Emma's head. "They did not make a mistake. They hired the most amazing, talented woman. It's not your fault if your boss forgets things, ok? I know you're tired now, so at the weekend we'll sit down and have a proper talk about it. It feels like they're putting too much on you, so let's talk about how we can handle it. But this evening I'm going to give you a shoulder massage and then we can just curl up on the sofa and watch a film together. How does that sound?"

Emma was moving food around her plate with her fork, and winced. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going straight out again. I'm meeting up with Nicola and Louise." Her phone vibrated, and she glanced at the screen. "Ugh, I think I'm going to have to go straight out now, they're already there."

Emma looked up at John, to see him looking questioningly at her.

"Oh. I mean... can I go out? Do you mind? I forgot to ask, didn't I? They asked me this morning. I was going to ask you at lunch but I ended up having to work through it again."

"You want to go out? On a Monday evening? But you're exhausted. Do you really think it's a good idea? Where are they going?"

"I'm fine... they asked me this morning and I thought I was going to get home on time, and I don't want to let them down. They just want to go to the pub. I can't back out now."

"Are they eating there or just drinking?"

"Just drinking I think."

"So you're exhausted, you haven't eaten all day, and you want to skip dinner to be out late too?"

"John, I said yes already, I'll be fine, I'm not even hungry. Don't make a big deal of it."

"You didn't eat lunch most of last week either. And haven't you already got things planned for after work for the rest of the week?"

"Oh. Yeah. Dinner with Alaina tomorrow. Pilates on Wednesday. And we're going to dinner with Paul and Sophie on Thursday. But I'll be fine."

John kept eating while looking at Emma, who was already on her phone again texting. "Ok I'm going to have to run, they're complaining that I'm late."

"Emma, put the phone down a sec. We need to talk."

"I can't, I've got to go," Emma replied, as she stood up from the table and picked her bag up again. She turned and began walking towards the door.

"Emma - stop. Sit down." John looked at her as he spoke, his face serious now.

Emma paused at the door and looked over her shoulder, an expression of exasperation on her face. "John, I'm late, I have to go. We can talk later"

John's voice remained firm but calm. "Emma, I shouldn't have to tell you twice. Sit down."

Emma felt a surge of frustration and raised her voice in anger, "For fuck's sake, John, leave it. I'm late!"

John was shocked, but he didn't move from where he sat. It took a moment for Emma to realise what she'd said, and she suddenly felt hot and looked down at her feet. She felt a pain in the pit of her stomach... a feeling of nausea and shame and dizziness. She dropped her bag on the floor and looked down at her hands in front of her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

John stood up. "No, you shouldn't. Come here. Now."

Emma fought her instinctive desire to protest. She realised this wasn't normal for her. She'd always been such a good girl. She'd always adored John's direction and she knew that she relied on him to protect her from her own worst traits. She prided herself on being attentive and acting in ways which made him proud. And yet somehow, she'd just managed to shout and swear at him. It wasn't her. She realised she'd crossed the line in a big way. She walked back towards John.

John drew himself up to his full height and waited for Emma to walk up to him. She paused just in front of him and looked down at her feet. John reached forward and placed his right hand under Emma's chin, gently lifting her face to look him in the eye.

He spoke calmly and softly, but with a clear edge to his voice that told Emma that he was not messing around. "Emma Harris, listen very carefully to what I'm about to say. Do not answer back. Do not argue. Just do as you're told." He paused, and Emma nodded, her knees suddenly feeling weak. "This is what's going to happen. You are not going out this evening. You're going to text your friends right now and tell them that you're not feeling well and you can't make it. Then we're going to have a proper talk."

John let his hand fall by his side and he looked at Emma expectantly, waiting for her to follow his instruction. She realised that he meant for her to do it straightaway, and began to look around for her phone, walking back to get it from her bag. She stood where she was and opened her friends' group chat, sending the message John had told her to send.

John watched her as she hit 'send'. "Ok, put your phone on silent, and put it back in your bag. Then come back here."

Emma did as she was told and walked back over to him, once again standing in front of him next to the dining table. She looked down at her feet again, struggling with the contrasting emotions flooding her body. She was still angry, but she didn't know what at. She was scared - not of John, but of what had just happened and how she'd behaved. She knew work was affecting her and she'd been unpleasant to be around for weeks now. John had been patient and supportive and this wasn't the first time she'd snapped at him - he'd warned her about it before. But it was the first time she'd shouted, and the first time she'd sworn. She knew she'd crossed a line and she felt sick.

"Look me in the eye, young lady," John began, waiting for her to raise her face to look up at him again. Emma felt smaller than ever in situations like this, and suddenly at that moment all she wanted was for John to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be ok. But she knew there was something else to go through first, as John continued to speak. "Don't ever, ever speak to me like that again. Do you understand?"

Emma nodded, swallowing nervously.

"I know that work has been really tough for you. I know you're struggling with it. I can see the strain you're under and I want to support you. We will find a way through this, ok? But I will not tolerate behaviour like that. Our relationship always comes first. The rules we've agreed always come first. If you're struggling, if you're finding things difficult, then you talk to me about it and we find a solution together. That's how it's always worked. You do not take things out on me. You do not show me disrespect. You do not disobey me. And you do not, ever, swear - not at me, and not at anyone else. Am I clear?"

Emma's eyes were wet as she nodded, and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"We'll talk more after we've finished eating. But right now we're going to deal with your behaviour." John walked to the table and moved the plates to the far end, taking the chair out of the way. He began to unbuckle his belt and pull it from his waist. Emma saw what he was doing and felt her knees go weak again. "John, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please..."

"Bend over the table, young lady. You know exactly what's going to happen. Do NOT make me tell you twice."

Emma's mind began to swim. Of course she knew what was going to happen. This had been part of their relationship since the first weekend they'd spent together, and it was something she'd dreamed of for years before that. She'd never been able to explain it, but for as long as she could remember she'd craved a relationship with a man who'd take the lead. Someone with experience and confidence who would look after her, protect her, and discipline her. Someone who would help quiet her anxious mind and make her feel safe. And John was that man. Early on in the relationship, they'd agreed a set of rules which had evolved over time, and it had helped to make their relationship as strong as it was. They seemed to complement one another perfectly: he provided the things in life that she struggled with herself, and she looked after him in her own attentive way. Or at least, she did when she wasn't working every hour in the day. In the moments like this, she dreaded it; but deep down it was all she'd always wanted and she knew that right now it was what she deserved.

Emma forced herself to walk up to the table and lean forward, her hands resting on the table top, and her back arched, her bottom sticking out. John walked up to her and slid his hands under her skirt, lifting it up and over her bottom, bunching it up around her waist. Then he slipped his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down to her knees. Emma instinctively began to reach around to try to stop him, but caught herself before it was too late, and forced her hand back onto the table top. She suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable, but still had a sense of anger, of frustration, of annoyance - not with John, not with anyone, just at the world in general, and at herself. She felt the air on her bare skin and looked back to see John standing next to her, the belt in his hand. She felt weak and began breathing more quickly, the blood rushing to her head.

"Right, Emma, let's get this over with."

John was standing on Emma's left hand side. He took hold of her upper arm with his left hand, swung his right arm up and back, and brought the belt down with a THWACK across the fullest part of Emma's bare bottom.

"Owwwww," Emma cried, as she winced, but she stayed in place and didn't try to move. John raised his arm again and brought the belt down again, slightly lower than the first time. Emma yelled again, and tensed and released her bottom, trying to deal with the sting, but knowing better than to try to rub.

"You know the rules of this house and the rules of this relationship, Emma. I will not allow you to be disobedient or rude. I will not allow you to misbehave. You need to ask me before you arrange to go out. And you do not answer back when I tell you to do something. Do you understand?"

John brought the belt down again for a third time, a fourth time, a fifth time... as Emma's bottom quickly began to show deep red stripes. Emma still felt anger. She felt frustrated with the world and with herself. And she hated herself for feeling that way.

The belt came down again and again, and the pain in her bottom deepened. It was almost overwhelming and it began to take all of her focus. The other thoughts flowed away, replaced by the sting, the intensity, the focus on taking the spanking, on not moving, on not reaching back. And as the belt hit her yet again, suddenly Emma felt a surge of release throughout her body, and she began sobbing uncontrollably as the anger disappeared, with tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sniffed through the tears. "I didn't know what I was saying. I'm so tired... please, I'm sorry. I love you."

"I love you too. But we're not done yet." John kept hold of her arm but noticed with pride that she was not trying to move out of place. He continued to bring the belt down on her bottom, not using all of his strength by any means, but enough that he knew she would feel it for some time to come. He was determined to give her a short, sharp shock. To make sure that she realised quite how unacceptable her behaviour was, but also to help bring her out of the anxious, stressed state that she'd found herself in.

He continued to bring the belt down on her bottom as Emma cried freely, promising to behave and pleading with John to forgive her. Eventually Emma was sobbing, her bottom was striped red, with faint bruises beginning to show, and John paused. He ran his hand over her bottom, feeling the heat, and decided she'd had enough. He put the belt back on and then began to massage Emma's bottom, as he turned her around to face him, and pulled her into him. He put his left arm around her and held her tightly, while his right hand rubbed her bottom.

"Ok, Emma, it's over. I love you so much but I will not put up with rudeness. Don't ever talk to me like that again."

Emma sniffed as she cried into John's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I love you too."

They stood together there for a few minutes. John held her tightly, repeating how much he loved her and that it was all over. That she was forgiven and that everything was going to be ok. After Emma's tears ended and he felt that she was calmer and more collected, John gently pulled her knickers up and smoothed her skirt down. He patted her bottom and looked her in the eye.

"Now, be a good girl and sit down and finish your dinner."

Emma nodded meekly, pulled her chair back into place, and sat down, wincing as her sore bottom made contact with the hard, wooden chair. John retrieved the plates from the other end of the table, and sat next to her. He reached across and stroked Emma's hair, wiping a tear from her cheek, and then they both began to eat, Emma sniffing occasionally. After a few minutes they finished, and Emma looked at John, waiting to be told what to do next.

"Ok, baby... I'm going to clear up. Go into the living room and wait for me on the sofa. We're going to watch that film, ok?" He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, then stood up and began to clear the plates away. Emma stood a little more gingerly, and walked slowly into the next room, still in a daze. A few moments later, John joined her, sitting down next to her. He put his arms around her and cuddled her for a few minutes, before pulling back and looking her in the eye.

"Emma, stand up for a second," he told her, and waited for her to follow his instructions. As she stood, John guided her in front of him, so she was standing facing him. "Now take your clothes off."

Emma paused, unsure as to what was coming next. She'd thought the spanking was over, and she wasn't sure that she could take any more. Her bottom was throbbing. John noticed her expression.

"It's ok, I'm not going to spank you again. Just do as you're told."

Emma paused for a moment longer, and then obeyed. She took her suit jacket off, and then began to unbutton her blouse, pulling it out from her skirt and taking it off, placing it on the coffee table. She looked back at John, and then unzipped her skirt and dropped it to the floor, before picking it up and folding it, placing it on top of her blouse. She looked up at John again, as she could feel her body relax. There was something about stripping off her clothes in front of him. It felt like she was peeling off more than her clothes... removing the layers of performance, of the facade she put on every time she left the house, every time she went to work. Peeling back to her core self, to the side of her that only John ever saw. She paused before asking, "Everything?"

"Everything."

She reached behind and unclipped her bra, sliding it off over her shoulders, and then winced as she slipped her knickers down from her stinging bottom, over her hips, and stepped out of them. She folded everything up and put it neatly on the coffee table. Then she stood facing John again, her hands wringing together in front of her. She took a deep breath and sighed deeply, beginning to cry again.

"Ok, sit on my knee."

Emma turned and sat down on John's lap, wincing once again as her bottom made contact. She shifted so she was sideways on, leaning up against his chest and taking the worst of the pressure off her bottom, with her knees bent and legs curled up in a foetal position, as she laid her head against John's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his left hand cradling her head and stroking her hair, and his right hand gently rubbing her back and hip and bottom. He held her for a moment to let her calm down. He kissed the top of her head. "Look at me."

Emma looked up so their eyes met, and John saw that her eyes were red, wet, and tired. He kissed her forehead and wiped another tear away from her cheek with his thumb.

"Emma. Don't you ever talk to me like that again. EVER."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Well, I do. You're exhausted. You're an amazingly capable, intelligent woman, but you've been working such long hours since you started, and it's getting to you. You know that you don't cope well with lack of sleep. You know that you need to rest. I don't think you're coping well with the stress of the job. So we're going to have a proper talk at the weekend about whether this is the right job for you, and if it is, how we can manage it to stop it impacting you in this way. I don't know what the answer is yet - it might mean you need to have a difficult conversation with your manager about workload, and I'll help you with that if you do. Or it might mean going part-time or finding another job. But I'm not going to allow things to continue as they are, ok?"

"Ok. I know you're right. I just want to do a good job and I hate it when I feel like I haven't."

"I know, I know. I understand, and it's such a good trait - you always want to do the best you can, and I love that about you. But it can hurt you too, you know? And my job is to stop that happening. Your health and our relationship is more important than the job. We'll work this out."

"Ok. Thank you. I'm so sorry I was so rude."

"It's ok, you've been punished and I forgive you. But here's what's going to happen the rest of this week. You're going to cancel your plans on Tuesday and Thursday and come straight home. You can still go to pilates on Wednesday, because I think that'll do you good, but then you're going to come straight home afterwards. I'm working from home all week, so I'm going to cook this week, and when you get home I'll be waiting for you. We're going to sit and cuddle and talk, just like this. Okay? You're going to tell me everything that's happened that day, everything you're worried about, and everything that's on your mind."

Emma felt a surge of warmth in her tummy and chest. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"Good girl. Now, we'll find a way through this, and you'll be ok. Please don't worry. I'm going to look after you, ok?"

From half an hour ago when her work troubles seemed to be all-consuming and the end of the world, Emma now felt like they'd been lifted from her shoulders. After all the years they'd been together, she still found it hard to understand how one man could have such a profound effect on her mental state. But sitting in this familiar position, on his lap, her sore bare bottom in his hands, with wet cheeks, sniffing against his chest, and his arms wrapped around her, she felt like she was where she'd always belonged - home and safe. When John told her that they would find a solution to her problems, she knew that it was true, because it always was. He always found a way. And she knew that, whatever happened with work, it didn't really matter. Because all that mattered was what was right here, right now - the two of them in their own little world together.

"Thank you. I love you," Emma whispered as she wiped her eyes with her hands and nuzzled against him.

"I love you too."

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[If you liked this story, feel free to get in touch via the chat - it's always nice to hear from people that it means something to, and I always welcome suggestion for future storylines.]