A Moment of Normalcy

  For the first time in weeks, Candy felt something almost like normalcy. She and Marcus sat on the worn-out couch, watching the big game on the Looking Gss, the warm glow of the scry-vision filling the room. For a few precious hours, it was just them. Not Husband and Wife. Not Master and Servant. Not Warden and Prisoner. Just Cam and Marcus, old friends, sitting together, making offhanded comments about the game, sipping drinks, and pretending, for one fleeting moment, that things weren’t ruined beyond repair.

  "That ref is blind," Marcus grumbled, shaking his head. "That was clearly in."

  snorted. "Oh, sure. Because the all-powerful Paddlewick sports authority always makes rational decisions."Marcus smirked, taking a sip of his drink. "You know, Candy, you sound dangerously close to sarcasm."

  Candy rolled her eyes. "I know. They’ll burn me at the stake next." Marcus chuckled, and for just a second, she felt like Cam again. Like herself. Like himself. But the illusion was soon shattered.

  At precisely midday, there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t Sergeant Strapforth; worse. It was Mrs. Prim again, and this time, she’d brought company. Two robed figures fnked her, agents of the Enforcement Bureau, cloaked in ste-grey with sigils stitched in gold thread down their sleeves.

  "Good afternoon, Mister Elwood, Miss Elwood," Mrs. Prim said, cheerfully officious. "We’re here for your rune instaltion."

  Marcus blinked. "Our what?"

  "Standard for all newly inducted households where the wife exhibits… spirited adjustment issues," she said with a too-sweet smile. "Don’t worry. It’s for her safety. And yours." Candy’s stomach dropped. She didn’t get a say. Of course she didn’t. The two Enforcement Bureau mages stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

  The First Rune: The Crimson Crystal

  They began in the main hallway, fixing a polished crimson crystal to the wall just above the mantle.

  "This one monitors your weekly maintenance corrections," one mage said ftly. "If none are administered by sundown each Paddlewick Week—Sunday by our clock—it will glow red and alert the Office of Household Compliance."

  "You’re installing a magic tattletale," Candy said.

  Mrs. Prim tsked. "Such nguage."

  T    The mage gave no reaction. "The alert will trigger escation enforcement. You’ll be fined first. After that, reassignment reviews begin." Marcus flinched. Candy stared at the crystal as it began to glow softly, currently a neutral gold, watching, waiting.

  The Second Rune: The Devotion Pearl

  In the bedroom, the second mage affixed a lustrous white pearl to the wall just inside the doorway. It pulsed gently, a faint inner shimmer like moonlight.

  "Devotion tracking," the mage expined, voice as neutral as a broom. "This monitors whether proper apologies follow formal punishments. If fulfilled, it turns a soft blue. If skipped, deyed, or subpar, it dims to grey and stays there until compliance is confirmed." Candy’s mouth opened. Closed. Her ears burned.

  "You're tracking blow jobs now?" she asked, dubiously.

  Mrs. Prim gave a crisp nod. "Only those done in penance, dear. Not recreational ones. The w doesn’t monitor married pleasure. Just married duty."

  "Oh, good," Candy muttered bitterly. "How merciful." Marcus looked like he wanted to melt through the floor.

  The Final Rune: The Obedience Sigil

  The third and final instaltion was the worst. A carved rune, not a crystal this time, etched directly into the wood near the front door. It fred with faint amber light as soon as the mage finished the final mark.

  "This detects tone viotions," the mage said. "Raised voice, refusal to answer, failure to address your husband as ‘Sir,’ and general disobedient tone or tantrums. If activated, it logs a behavior report for review."

  "You’re measuring my tone?" Candy gawked.

  "The rune interprets intention,” Mrs. Prim expins.

  "Oh, well, that’s fine, because runes are famously good at nuance," Candy said through gritted teeth. The Obedience Sigil fred just slightly.

  The mage arched a brow. "See?"

  After the Departure

  When the mages and Mrs. Prim finally left, the house felt different. Not just tense. Not just awkward. Watched. Candy sat on the sofa and stared at the Crimson Crystal over the mantle. It glowed like a coiled threat.

  "So," she said after a long silence. "Let me get this straight."

  Marcus looked exhausted. "Yeah?"

  "If you don’t spank me weekly, the wall reports you."

  "Yes."

  "If I don’t... swallow my pride," she said bitterly, "after a public humiliation, the pearl tattle-tales."

  "Pride and more, yes." Candy made a face at that.

  "And if I get upset about any of it, the door tries to get me arrested."

  Marcus sighed. "More or less."

  Candy rubbed her temples. "I used to worry about being turned into a woman," she muttered. "Now I just worry about being turned into a criminal for sighing too hard." Marcus sat beside her.

  "I’m sorry." Candy blinked. Not sarcastic. Not defensive. Just… sorry. She didn’t answer. She just leaned back, eyes on the soft flicker of the Crimson Crystal, already ticking toward Sunday.

  The next day a bell chimed to let them know mail had been put through the mail slot. Marcus leaned forward, picking up the envelope from the floor. The seal of the Paddlewick Domestic Order Division gleamed in the candlelight. Neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to open it. But they both knew he had to. Slowly, Marcus broke the seal and unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned the page, his grip on the parchment tightening with every word. Candy’s stomach twisted.

  "Well?" she asked, voice tense. Marcus exhaled heavily and read aloud:

  NOTICE OF DOMESTIC COMPLIANCEWEEKLY MAINTENANCE DISCIPLINE REMINDER

  To: Marcus Elwood, HusbandRe: Candy Elwood, Wife

  As per Paddlewick marital ordinances, all wives must receive weekly maintenance correction to ensure continued obedience and proper wifely conduct.

  Your wife’s first session is due this evening.

  Per regutions, the following conditions must be met:

  Correction must be administered bare-bottomed (undergarments permitted).The wife must be pced over the p for proper submission.A minimum of twenty swats must be applied.The wife must express gratitude for correction when it is complete.Failure to perform this duty will be reported.

  Do your part for Paddlewick’s domestic order.

  Signed,Edwina PrimSenior Compliance OfficerPaddlewick Domestic Order Division

  The room was silent. Marcus slowly lowered the letter, his expression unreadable. Candy felt cold.

  "This is a joke," she muttered, even though she knew it wasn’t.

  Marcus set the letter aside. "I figured this was coming." His voice was calm, but there was something off in it. Candy’s nails dug into her palms.

  "So what? You’re actually going to—"

  "I don’t have a choice, Candy." His voice was quiet, but firm.

  "Oh, that’s rich," Candy snapped, anger fring up like fire in her chest. "You always have a choice, Marcus. You’re just too much of a coward to make the right one."

  Marcus’s jaw tightened. "And what exactly do you want me to do?" he said, voice low. "Refuse? Get us both punished? Have them send Officer Strapforth to take over?" Candy flinched. Because he was right. Refusal wouldn’t mean freedom.It would mean worse. And she hated how well they had trapped her.

  The Moment Before

  Marcus rubbed a hand over his face, his frustration obvious.

  "Look, let’s just… get through this," he muttered. "Quick. Done. No fuss."

  Candy ughed bitterly.

  "No fuss?" she repeated. "You’re about to put me over your p and spank me like I’m a child, and you think I’m just going to be fine with it?"

  Marcus grimaced. "I don’t expect you to be fine, Candy."

  "Then what the hell do you expect?!" she snapped.

  Marcus exhaled slowly. "I expect you to survive." Candy stilled. "I expect you to do what you have to do so we don’t make this worse." His eyes met hers—tired, conflicted, angry. "I don’t like this any more than you do," he murmured. Candy’s breath shook. And that was the worst part. She knew he wasn’t lying. But it didn’t matter. Because he was still going to do it.

  The First Maintenance Spanking

  Marcus pulled a chair into the center of the room. Candy’s stomach churned. Her legs felt like lead as she stepped forward, her breath coming shallow and sharp. Her hands shook as she slowly lifted her skirts, exposing her thin cotton undergarments. She saw Marcus clench his jaw, looking anywhere but at her.

  "Over my p," he said, quietly. Candy hated how her body obeyed before her mind could resist. Obediance was bred into Paddlewick women and the spell that changed her seemed to compel her. The moment she bent over, she felt the weight of it all come crashing down. The helplessness. The humiliation. The awful, suffocating knowledge that this was just the beginning.

  Marcus rested a warm, steadying hand on her back. And then the first swat nded. Candy gasped, the sharp sting spreading across her skin. Marcus rested a warm, steadying hand on her back. And then the first swat nded.

  Candy gasped, the sharp sting spreading across her skin.

  “You have to count them, and say sir,” Marcas instructed her.

  “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “No, Candy, it’s in the hand book. So the first one didn’t count.” Before she could argue he brought down the next swat.

  Candy flinched and yelled “One sir!” she whispered through gritted teeth. She braced herself for the next.

  Another strike.

  “Two, sir.”

  And another.

  “Three, sir.”

  The rhythm was mechanical, each swat deliberate but distant, like Marcus was forcing himself to go through the motions. Quick, impersonal, detached. But the sting grew.

  “Four, sir.”

  “Five, sir.”

  “Six, sir.”

  Her voice wavered slightly. Her lips trembled.

  “Seven, sir.”

  “Eight... sir.”

  “Nine, sir.”

  “Ten, sir.”

  By the tenth, Candy’s breath was uneven. Her back throbbed, and her fingers curled tightly around the chair leg in front of her.

  “Eleven, sir.”

  “Twelve sir.”

  “Thirteen sir!” She cried, wiggling and kicking her feet.

  Marcus paused slightly, "Try to stay still Candy."

  "Easy for you to SAAAAAY!" she yelped as the next smack came down. “Fourteen. You jackass!” Marcus cleared his throat in warning and continued.

  “Fifteen sir!” Her jaw clenched, and her knuckles turned white with the force of her grip.

  “Sixteen, sir.”

  “Seventeen, sir.”

  The heat was unbearable. Her pride was long gone.

  “Eighteen sir!” she cried out.

  “Nineteen sir!”

  “Twenty sir!”

  And then it was over. The room was thick with silence. Candy’s breath shook as she slowly straightened, her skin burning beneath her thin clothing. Her hands trembled at her sides. And then came the final insult.

  "You have to thank me," Marcus murmured. Candy’s entire body locked up. Her fists clenched. Her rage boiled over. She turned to gre at him, her eyes bzing with fury.

  "Thank you?" she hissed. "You want me to thank you?"

  Marcus exhaled.

  "Candy…”

  "No," she spat.

  Her voice shook with rage.

  "You want me to say it, don’t you? You want me to act like a good little wife, bow my head, and thank my husband for beating me?" Marcus’s eyes darkened.

  "I don’t want this, Candy."

  "Then don’t do it." A long silence. A terrible, awful silence. And then Marcus turned away.

  "Thank you for maintaining me, sir," Candy finally whispered, her voice cold and lifeless. The runes were satisfied.

  Marcus closed his eyes. “Traditionally,” he said, “The husband asks the wife if she needs aftercare. Do you need me to hold you?” Candy blinked, speechless, then walked out of the room without another word. Without looking back. What she needed was a good, stiff drink.