Joe Hathaway sat on the floor in shock, trying to grasp the unimaginable nightmare that had befallen him. His sweet, plump, middle-aged wife had just demonstrated to the tall, powerful, authoritative, golf pro, that she could wrestle as well as, or perhaps, considerably better, than he could. Of course, in this year of 1956, women had had the vote for thirty years, and were certainly legally men's equals, but wives just weren't able to overpower their husbands, were they? Not a husband who was the most admired man's man in Town!

As a crestfallen Joe tried to get his breath, Verna crept up behind him, and pounced again. She snaked her thighs around his middle, locking her ankles together. Joe squealed in shocked surprise.

When Joe frantically tried to pull away, Verna grabbed him around the neck in a choke hold.

Joe screamed in fear when he tried to take a deep breath, but found he couldn't. Verna gave a wrenching squeeze of her thighs. Her plump, but ever so strong, thighs crushed his middle They coiled about him cutting into his belly and sides like boa constrictors.

Joe's exhausted trunk muscles gave out, quickly. Feeling his resistance collapse, Verna furiously tensed her body in merciless, convulsive jerks.

Once, when the kids were still home and watching a wrestling show on the family's, then new, first teevee, Verna brought them in a big bowl of popcorn from the kitchen. As she entered the living room, she saw a wrestler apply a sleeper hold to another wrestler caught like she'd just caught Joe. It stuck in her mind, and she converted her choke hold to the sleeper.

"Ooww...Vern.. for christ's sake..." Joe whimpered, hardly able to speak.

Joe couldn't talk by now; he was gagging and gasping so for breath. His body collapsed backward, unable to fight anymore. Verna gave his body one more of those deadly, convulsive thigh jerks, before she let him go.

"Guess that's enough, for the time being, anyway!"

Joe fell over sideways, no longer conscious.

Verna stood up and triumphantly looked down at her unconscious husband, hardly worrying if he was badly hurt or not. The heady intoxication of domination had driven every scrap of Christian Charity from her bosom. She felt no sympathy for her husband, only the elation of conquest.

Verna was enjoying herself too much to worry about whether wrestling was seemly for a lady, or whether she was some kind of sinful, unchristian monster. Certainly no further demonstration of her wrestling skill was necessary, but Verna didn't care about that now. She didn't admit it consciously, but this was about domination!  She reached down and grasped Joe under the arms, just as he was coming to. Joe felt himself dragged to his feet by soft, incredibly strong arms, and opened his eyes in shock, to see Verna grinning down at him.

Joe struggled weakly, to escape as Verna wrapped her legs around his waist, and clasped his head to her very ample bosom. A second later, unable to bear both their weight, Joe toppled over on his side, with Verna still clinging to him like a leech, an incredibly powerful leech.

Once again, locked in a double hold by Verna's strong arms and plump thighs, Joe was helpless to escape the humiliating bondage of his wife's shapely limbs. Verna masterfully rolled him on his back.

The pressure of Verna's fleshy thighs never let up, and Joe couldn't get his breath. Verna's big boobs pressing down on his face didn't help matters any, either.

"Oh it's so easy to handle him and shove him around, when I've got him like this! Those big muscles he's so proud of aren't doing him a it of good. He
might look like that Charles Atlas guy, but the way I've got him, he might as well be one of those ninety-eight pound weaklings! Oh, I love it!"

When Joe came near passing out again, Verna completed his humiliating lesson by releasing him for a moment, and swiveling around to plant her very ample behind right square on his face.

"Oh I'm all wet down there!" It was a sobering shock when Verna realized that rubbing her herself on Joe's face like this had almost caused her to have an orgasm.

"Ommigod!  What kind of sick vindictive bitch am I? No decent woman would get excited by what I'm doing!"

Her face blazing in shame, Verna quickly climbed off Joe and turned away, almost sick to her stomach, with the guilty knowledge of what she'd been doing.

Finding himself suddenly free, Joe's only thought was revenge. Verna's sadistic dominance had driven him over the brink. He climbed awkwardly to his feet, unaware how badly his body was trembling. Nothing else mattered but getting back at HER!

"That GODDAMNED BITCH!"

Verna's back was turned, her face buried in her hands to hide her shame. She wasn't paying any attention, as Joe crept up behind her. Joe's legs were shaking so much that he had to put his hand on one thigh to steady himself, but in his rage, he wasn't even aware of it. There was only one thought in his crazed mind; he'd get even with the 'bitch' who'd humiliated him!

Joe struck from behind, with furious rage. His fist landed on the back of Verna's bent neck. Joe's swing could drive a golf ball out of sight, but he was shaking so tonight, that his blow lacked the power it normally would have packed. Even so, the punch staggered Verna, driving all thoughts of shame from her mind.

"Oww...What! He punched me from BEHIND!" Verna couldn't believe her husband of all these years would stoop to sneaking up behind her and punching her in furious, vengeful anger. She was shocked and outraged.

Joe's punch hurt Verna, but in his weakened condition it wasn't hard enough to really do damage. He steadied himself for another punch, but, Verna, now furious herself, wheeled around, her hand stretched flat for the karate chop she'd learned in her class. More by luck than good aim, the hard edge of Verna's hand sliced directly into Joe's throat, nearly crushing his windpipe.

The chop across the throat stopped Joe dead in his tracks. He clutched his throat, gagging and choking. Verna wrathfully, and most unsympathetically, surveyed the damage she'd inflicted on her husband, her anger still growing into a cold knot of fury. How DARE he? What kind of sick excuse for a man would do such a thing? He deserved to be really punished!

Unable to contain her growing fury, Verna smacked Joe across the face with all the strength, of an outraged farmer's daughter. The blow staggered Joe so, that he almost fell.

Her fury still unsatisfied, Verna smacked Joe across the other cheek with her other hand, as he staggered backward from the first blow.

After those two amazingly powerful slaps, Joe's shaky legs couldn't support him. His ears ringing and tears of pain in his eyes, he sank to his knees. Joe apprehensively looked up at Verna with frightened rabbit eyes, as though seeing a fearsome ogress standing over him, instead of his dutiful wife of so many years. Verna's hand was raised to strike again, but seeing the pitiful fear in Joe's eyes, she contemptuously lowered her arm. There was a better way to deal with someone who'd sink THIS low!

As her frightened husband crouched abjectly at her feet, Verna sternly lectured him as though he were a nasty, sneaky little boy.

"You miserable, cowardly excuse for a man! I can't believe I've lived with such a worthless coward all these years! Why, if one of the boys ever did that to a girl when they were little, I'd have blistered his bottom, and no mistake! Well, Mister Sneak! That's just what I'm going to do to you, you...you no-account worm!"

"Wh-wha' d'ya mean..." Joe whined fearfully.

"I MEAN I'm going to give you a spanking to teach you to fight fair, that's what I MEAN! Now get over my knee, RIGHT NOW!" Verna ordered in that unmistakable voice of authority, Joe had only heard her use to the the kids.

A few minutes before, Joe would have laughed uproariously at the idea of his plump, middle-aged wife threatening to spank HIM. But in the last fifteen minutes, Verna had taught him all too well, what she was capable of doing. Spirit and male pride in tatters, Joe struggled a little but he found there was nothing he could do to stop Verna; he was miserably hauled across his fierce wife's outstretched knee, whimpering and pleading.

Beaten and humiliated, the Town's proudest symbol of masculine prowess and authority settled across his wife's knee quivering in terror and snuffling in misery. Though the threat of a spanking by hand might not seem physically that terrible, there was something unbelievably intimidating and fearsome about Joe's mortifying position that caused him to tremble in terror of what was about to come.  Verna let him stew a few moments before she raised her stout right arm.

At the first crack, Joe found out that a hand spanking could, indeed, be more terrible than he could have guessed. Verna put all the power of her broad strong back behind her swing. That was something Joe had taught her, on one of those few occasions he took her out on the golf course. Moreover, the palms of Verna's plump, soft looking, well manicured hands were hard and calloused from long hours in her rose garden, and were hard as boards. Joe shrieked at the stinging, scalding pain.

After all his other humiliations that night, the terribly painful, mortifying spanking was the last straw; Joe broke down and wept and screamed at the pain, loudly begging and pleading with Verna to stop. The stern Matriarch stonily ignored her husband's shamed cries, and remorselessly stepped up the drumming rhythm of her calloused palm on his  behind.

Joe crouched at Verna's feet like a frightened dog, terrified of what more his fierce wife would do to him. Verna ordered him to roll over on his back.

As soon as her cowed husband obediently rolled on his back, Verna sat down on his chest. Verna looked down triumphantly into her helpless husband's face, as she firmly pinned his arms under her knees. Joe twitched a little, but couldn't do anything to stop her. He twisted his head to one side, unable to  look Verna in the face. Mercilessly, Verna  twisted his head, so she could look directly into his face. Joe gulped back a sob.

Verna decided it was time things changed around her home. From now on, SHE would be the BOSS, and Joe better start getting used to it right now. Joe snuffled in agreement. At this point, Joe's admission was no more than a formality, a thoroughly defeated foe bowing to the inevitable.

It was crystal clear that Verna had once and for all established the new order of things in the Hathaway household, but the methodical housewife was a careful woman who liked to dot every 'i' and cross every 't'.

Verna got off Joe's chest and picked up his trousers from the chair where he'd laid them as they were undressing such a short time earlier.

The 'pants' in the family, belonged to Verna, now!  The long dutiful wife proudly donned the symbol of her new status.  She had to pull the belt so tight to hold them up, that the unused portion dangled down to her thigh. She carefully and neatly rolled up the legs so they didn't drag on the floor.

Wearing his forfeited male pants, Verna stepped back to Joe. Joe looked up in fearful resignation as Verna triumphantly planted her small, pretty foot on his thick, bull neck.

After that night, it was not likely that Joe would, or could, ever forget who wore the pants in Verna's house!