My husband stood in front of me rubbing his bottom madly. Well he would as I had just finished spanking him, yet again. He just didn’t learn so I had to spank him again. It had only been two days since his last spanking after all. Not that I minded. He needed to be spanked and like any loving wife I saw it as my duty to spank him. I had several heavy wooden hairbrushes that helped make the pain intense.
I sat on my spanking chair with my arms crossed, one leg crossed over the other, and watched as he jumped from foot to foot whilst rubbing his bottom. He had been naughty and earned his spanking. Even so, his penis was erect as he looked at me through his tear filled eyes and we both knew that now he was, ‘good,’ again we would soon make up. In bed and having the greatest sex. Much better sex than before I started to spank him.
It was now a time honoured practice. I generally put him across my lap, bare bottom, well naked actually, and spanked him with my hand for at least fifteen minutes. Even I was surprised how long I could spank Dave’s bare bottom without stopping. Afterwards I used a hairbrush, which even I admit is a wicked looking wooden backed oval hairbrush. I never used it to brush my hair; just to spank Dave’s bottom. It made a delicious slapping sound as it thrashed down on his bare bottom, sending his scrumptious bottom cheeks flooding away in waves, and then those waves wobbled back in to place ready for the next spank. He cried out of course, loudly, and kicked his legs and squirmed around on my lap and the like; but I ignored all of that nonsense. Well I knew it hurt so expected him to react like that. Just so long as he stayed on my lap; and to his credit he did.
Now he stood in front of me, rubbing his bottom, with his penis wobbling up and down as he stepped from foot to foot. He was crying and apologising profusely. I stood up, held open my arms, and he collapsed in to them. I hugged him, rubbing his back, calming him down.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” he cried. I knew he meant it. He always did after I had spanked him.
I remained firm. “Well you should have thought more in the first place, Dave. Then I wouldn’t have to put you across my knee so often,” I said confidently, patting his warm bottom, whilst still hugging him.
“I know,” he whimpered. “I’ll try harder.” He rested his head on my shoulder and accepted my kindness. Just like any naughty boy after a good hard spanking.
I answered sternly, “Yes, you better had because otherwise I’ll be spanking you again very soon, won’t I?”
“Yes,” came the wet reply.
So as usual after a spanking I grabbed hold of his erect penis and squeezed, enjoying his gasp of pain. I led him to the bed and made him stand there watching me get undressed. His penis stiffened even further.
Once I was naked I sat on the side of the bed watched him take the rest of his clothes off. It got me aroused. I held his arm, turned him, and smacked his bottom several times. He gasped as each spank hit home. It was another ritual just before having sex after a spanking.
“Just make sure you do behave,” I said sternly as I smacked his legs.
He sobbed and again rubbed his bottom and legs as he watched me lay down on the bed, on my back. I smirked as I watched him ease himself down and lie on top of me. I squeezed his sore bottom cheeks and again he gasped; but I could feel his stiff penis and knew he was aroused. Just as I was aroused now the discipline was over. We were going to make up, as we always did. My repentant husband and his dominant wife.
I loved him though. I wouldn’t be so strict if I didn’t care; and I certainly wouldn’t be prepared to spend my time disciplining him to try to teach him to be better behaved. No way.
We kissed and caressed each other. He always paid particular attention to me after a spanking. He kissed and sucked my erect nipples and ran his fingers along my wet pussy. I was already so aroused by spanking him and so welcomed his stiff penis inside me as we gyrated together, our breathing deepening, gasps of erotic delight escaping from me as he brought me to orgasm. I shrieked out as I came and felt the hot rush of his sex juice inside me as he collapsed, exhausted.
Once I settled down and with his droopy penis still inside me I raised my hand and brought it down hard on his bottom. He gasped and tensed which gave me another erotic pussy sensation as I smacked him again and again.
“Just remember next time, my lad,” I said sternly. We both knew there would be another time. Dave just didn’t know how to behave well enough. Not with me being all strict with him.
Dave kept sobbing as he balanced on his elbows still on top of me.
Once Dave had calmed down I told him to get dressed. He gave me a kiss as he always did, subdued, with his red eyes, puffy face, but no resentment. He watched me as I got dressed. His penis became erect again but I knew the next time we will make love will be tonight.
“Friends?” he asked. That was the same question he also always asked when he realised he had pushed me too far and had earned his spanking,
I patted his bottom and said “Of course we are darling. What a sorry sight you are. Still, one day you will learn, although you haven’t learnt much since I started to spank you?” I laughed.
How it had changed for me though. Brilliantly.
I was 22-years-old the first time I spanked Dave, and he was 24 years-old. That was 12-years ago now.
We had only recently got married then. The early months took quite some adjustment. I was used to looking after myself as I had left home at 18; first to go to Uni and then for my job. The trouble was that looking after Dave was tiring what with his smart alec comments and practical jokes. He found them funny though.
He had never lived away from home. He went straight from being looked after by his Mum to being looked after by his wife. Me. Whilst I did all the cleaning he did all the messing up. I wasn’t happy about that. It was pretty quickly grating with me.
He was childish with it and sometimes even loutish. On one occasion he was just so rude that I gave him a slap on his bottom and told him off. He looked at me, a sneer on his face, like a teenager, said sorry and walked off. I was despairing. Would it ever get better?
The next day he was messing about in the lounge, trying to balance a ball. Things got out of hand as he was jumping around like an idiot. I went in and told him to stop before he did some damage. Next thing I knew he tripped and crashed in to me, I fell over and he landed on top of me.
“What do you think you are doing?” I screamed.
It really hurt me. I got up slowly and sat on the chair rubbing my arm. I was really cross. I don’t know where it came from, but I shouted, “Come over here, now”.
“Why should I?” he snapped back whilst eyeing me carefully and speaking with a nervous laugh.
“Because I said so, that’s why,” I replied abruptly. I thought how he looked just like my younger brother when he was being told off by our Mother. He would be testing her, to see how far he could push her. She never went any further than telling him off though, and soon he got completely out of control making her life and mine a misery. I did not want that to happen to me with my husband. I didn’t see why I should stand for it.
I said again, tersely, “Come over here, now. I am going to spank you. Act like a child and be treated like one.” I just knew this was our last chance. Either he had to change or there was no future for us.
Dave looked at me for a moment and the sneer went, replaced by open eyes, an anxious look, and he asked, “You’re not really going to spank me, Emma; are you?”
“Yes I am,” I said quickly. “Now come over here before I get really angry”.
Dave came slowly over, unsure, and stood next to me, looking perturbed. I was in overdrive though. Without waiting I put my hands up to unzip his trousers.
“Please don’t, Emma,” Dave said in an alarmed tone catching my hands.
I glared at Dave and said as firmly as I could, “Get those hands away, Dave, I have never been more serious.”
A few tense seconds passed as I glared at Dave. He looked back at me, timid, thinking, until he slowly took his hands off mine and I knew control was passing to me.
I pulled his zip down and pulled down his trousers to his ankles. His pants followed and he stepped out of both.
“Right, Dave, get across my lap.” I was still livid.
Dave eased himself over my knees. He was now timid as he bent across my lap and just lay there, not moving, putting his hands on the floor in front of him. I decided just to lay straight in to him. Scolding will come later.
So I gave him spank after spank on his bare bottom, turning his bare bouncing bottom cheeks first pink and then a deeper red. I just spanked him as hard as I could, almost blind with rage, but after about 5 minutes I had calmed down. I was even thinking I should not be doing this. I am his wife and not his mother. I rubbed my hand around his bottom while I was thinking; giving the occasional few smacks just to make sure he did not try to get up.
Then I decided what the heck? He deserved to be disciplined because he really did hurt me; and here he was, across my lap and taking his punishment. I decided to continue. I just thought that if he didn’t like it we will be splitting up anyway.
He still lay there, now grunting each time I hit him. I was beginning to relish disciplining my brat of a husband. I was very calm now, focussed on turning his bottom as deep a shade of red as I could, his smooth flesh bouncing as my flat hand smacked home; and he grunted and groaned and moaned and eventually started to sob.
“Am I getting through to you, Dave?”
A very wet, “Yes,” was his answer. Well, that encouraged me. He was accepting his punishment so I kept spanking him until his bottom was a beautiful bright red. My hand started to hurt; well it had been over fifteen minutes since I started to spank him. I looked at my hand and was surprised how red it was. No wonder it hurt. However, the adrenalin was still flowing and I wanted to keep on spanking him. I kicked off one of my slippers and said tersely to the back of Dave’s head, “Hand it up to me, Dave.”
Seconds later, after Dave had scrabbled around to pick up the slipper, he handed it to me. I held it firmly, happily saw that it had a rather thick leather sole, lifted it up, and brought it thrashing down on to his bottom. The gasp it drew was so; well, enjoyable; for me anyway. I kept on spanking Dave with the slipper and delighted in how his gasps got louder and louder. Still he lay across my lap taking the spanking.
I stopped counting at 50 spanks with the slipper and still I continued. By then Dave was already crying freely; a grown man being spanked by his wife. The tears flowed down his face which told me he was suffering; so maybe I had got through to him. I gave him a few dozen more even harder spanks before stopping.
Dave lay there even after I stopped spanking him, his chest heaving deep breaths, his face wet with his tears, and he cried for quite a while until he slowly recovered.
“OK, Dave, you can get up now.”
Dave eased himself off my lap and when he stood up looking at me I wondered what his reaction would be. Would he hit me? Would he just walk away? I didn’t even know if he had ever been spanked before we got married. I knew his Mum was a fierce enough woman but did she spank him? I just looked at him as he stood there conscious of the fact he was rubbing his bottom.
I looked at his penis for a guide. Maybe it would be erect? No, it wasn’t. It was really floppy; like after we had had sex. I looked at my lap. Maybe he had cum on my skirt. Was there a stain? No, again. So he wasn’t aroused by being spanked then.
I decided I had to end the silence so stood up and held my arms out. Almost with disbelief he stepped forward and fell in to my open arms. He threw his arms around my neck, hugged me, and said he was sorry. I hugged him back until he had calmed down and he promised to be more adult in future.
We stood hugging each other for ages.
“Did you mean everything you just said, Dave,” I asked sternly. “All those apologies and telling me you won’t play around with a football in the lounge again? Did you mean it all, Dave?”
Again there was silence. Oh no, I hated it when Dave gave me the silent treatment. He did it after I shouted at him for leaving his clothes on the floor or for generally making a mess. It could last ten minutes or two hours before he snapped out of it.
To my relief Dave said, “Yes, Emma, I did mean it. I’m so sorry and know I shouldn’t have fooled around like that.”
“OK, Dave. So, did it help; me spanking you?”
Dave nodded. So he wasn’t actually saying yes; but a nod meant a yes didn’t it? I thought it did anyway.
Dave gave me a sorrowful look and asked quietly, “Can I go and watch TV, Emma; please?”
“Sure, Dave; no problem,” I replied.
Dave turned, then turned back and looked at me, and said, “You know, Emma, I did deserve it. I guess.”
I sat on the chair again as Dave left the room and went to the study to watch TV. I played over what had happened in my mind. It was mind blowing, but so cool. I needed to talk about it, but who could I speak to without totally embarrassing my husband. My best friend? Well not really as her husband and Dave are best buddies. His Mum? Well I could but what if she had never spanked Dave? How would she react if I told her that her, ‘Little Dave,’ was spanked by his wife? I decided there was no one, so I had to keep it to myself. I didn’t think I should even speak to Dave about it. I decided I’ll see if he raises it. Otherwise it might just be a one off. Time would tell.
That night when Dave came to bed he cuddled up and didn’t mind me putting my hand on his bottom. It was still delightfully warm as I stroked it and squeezed it. The sex was good as well. Great actually. He was very caring and attentive to what I wanted; not his more usual loutish male, ‘Do as I want,’ style of making love.
I was also pleasantly surprised when Dave was much better behaved over the next few days. He never mentioned me spanking him but he helped around the house, and his silly antics stopped. For a while anyway. For the next week in fact he was a changed man. A loving and unusually helpful husband
Then after the week it changed back again. It was early evening and Dave had a friend, Ben , over to watch some football match on TV. I was shattered from a particularly trying day. I was already showered and wearing a shorty nightdress and my dressing gown as I expected to go to bed well before Ben went home judging from what happened every time before when one of Dave’s friends came over to watch football.
I was resting on the sofa in the lounge reading a book but the two men kept shouting in the adjacent TV room. I went in and told them three times to be quieter, but without success. Finally I went in again, saw the match was over, and told Ben it was time for him to go home. Dave and Ben laughed. Ben gave Dave a, ‘She must be joking,’ look and Dave looked at me and said, “Look honey, you pour us some wine and we’ll be quieter. How about that?”
I glared at Dave, standing with my arms crossed, and biting my lower lip. A look he knew well enough meant I was cross. Even before I spanked him he knew that look.
Dave saw the look, froze, and spluttered, “Well, Ben, erm, maybe it is late and you better split?”
Ben gave me another funny look, but as the game had finished anyway and he probably didn’t fancy an argument he looked back at Dave and said, “OK Dave, maybe I better get going.”
Dave and Ben got up and went in to the hallway. I heard them murmuring but caught clearly Ben say with a laugh, “Heck, Dave, why do you stand for that?”
I was fuming but knew Ben wasn’t married so had no idea how to handle a wife. It was just bluster. He lived at home with his Mum. I met her occasionally at the shops. I giggled to myself thinking maybe next time I see her I would suggest she gave Ben a spanking. Maybe she already did, I pondered, reckoning how so often the showy brave ones are actually the ones well under the thumb at home.
Dave murmured something indistinct as a response but it wasn’t a wholesale agreement; that was for sure. I reckoned it was just a cocky response of his own; again like the ones that men made to other men when they thought their wives weren’t listening.
Then I was sure I heard Ben say, “Maybe she’ll give you another spanking, eh?”
Dave definitely shushed Ben up.
I was livid and went upstairs. When I heard the front door close I called Dave to the bedroom. He walked in sheepishly looking across at me as I sat on my dressing table chair.
“You look real sexy Emma; let’s go to bed, darling,” he said cool as brass. I knew this was his way of testing me. I had already decided that I had to make a stand. If one spanking was not enough then he had better have another one.
I gave no explanation, but just made the bald statement.
“No,” I said curtly, “I am going to spank you. Come over here now.”
Dave looked shocked. “That’s not fair,” he bleated. Not very forcefully though, almost as though he was saying it for the sake of it; just because he felt he had to but knew he had overstepped the mark and was about to pay the penalty.
I recognised the tone from when watching my brother tell our Mum he didn’t need to be spanked. The memories came flooding back in to my mind. I looked at Dave and realised he knew he was going to be spanked but argued just in case he struck lucky. Well he wasn’t striking lucky tonight.
Dave looked dolefully at me. He shuffled his feet, looking at the floor, which I knew that my brother always did when he was trying to argue himself out of a difficult position. Another memory.
I held firm; I was more confident than ever about what I needed to do.
“Not fair. Really?” I snapped. “Who was being noisy then? Not me that’s for sure. I asked you three times to be quiet and you didn’t listen, did you?”
“No,” he whined.
“So, come over here and be taught a lesson.”
He looked crest fallen, but shuffled over and stood next to me. He stopped for a second as he saw me lift my leg up and I took one of my slippers off; but he kept coming towards me whilst looking at the floor.
I decided that I would again take down his trousers and pants myself which I did and surprisingly Dave didn’t resist at all this time. In fact I noticed he held his hands well away and then held his arm out and let me guide him across my lap. He nudged around a bit, and then lay still, with his hands resting on the floor and his legs just off the floor on the other side. He was ready.
For just a moment I thought I felt his penis on my bare thighs and if I did that meant he was erect. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed as my face was inches away from his penis when I was yanking his trousers and pants down to his ankles; closer probably as he stepped out of them.
I rubbed his bottom a few times, and he tensed.
I asked, “Did you tell Ben you got spanked?”
Dave froze and asked, “What?”
“You heard,” I replied sternly. Then made myself lighten up and said in almost a friendly tone, “It’s OK if you did, Dave.”
Dave relaxed, looked at the floor, and replied, “I guess I did mention it.”
I was amazed but kept an even tone, asking, “So does Ben get spanked by his Mum?”
“Don’t be daft,” Dave said almost laughing before realising he was across my lap.
“Not so daft, Dave.” I made my mind up to discuss spanking with Ben’s Mum. I looked at the back of Dave’s head and said wickedly, “Maybe one day soon he will be.”
Before Dave could say anything more I raised my hand and brought the palm down hard across the centre of his bottom. He moaned as the spanks rained down on him, but I didn’t relent. I knew he deserved it.
Once again I spanked him for a full fifteen minutes with my open flat palm; all over his bottom and the tops of his legs. His bottom and legs were turned a very pretty pink and then a darker red before my hand started to hurt.
I took hold of the slipper and continued spanking Dave just like the first spanking; no stopping, very hard, on his bottom and on his legs. As I spanked harder and harder I realised I was enjoying it. Yes, that was the right word; enjoying watching Dave squirm around on my lap and kicking his legs as I spanked him.
The groans and gasps continued but I kept spanking him knowing the longer I spanked him the more likely he would learn his lesson. I spanked him until his bottom was such a burning red and his face was tear-stained.
I looked at my dressing table and saw my hairbrush. It had an oval wooden head and I wondered if that would be better than my slipper. I reckoned it would hurt more and made a mental note to use it next time. By now I assumed there would be a next time. I even reckoned the hairbrush would become a good friend of mine. Mind you, I knew that I couldn’t use the hairbrush to spank Dave and to brush my hair. So I decided I’ll get a different hairbrush for my hair. Oh, and it will be best if I buy some spare wooden backed hairbrushes for spanking Dave with.
All the while I was spanking Dave with the slipper and I was now nicely relaxed; my tension had gone. A good feeling I thought. Spanking Dave was therapeutic I reckoned. It didn’t matter that Dave cried out in pain and was gasping and squirming around on my lap. I just felt better whilst spanking him so I knew what I would make happen going forward. Spanking was going to be the norm for my husband.
Eventually once Dave’s bottom was bright red I conceded, “OK, Dave, I reckon you have learned your lesson.”
Dave eased himself off my lap and just like last time he jumped from foot to foot rubbing his bottom. At the same time he apologised for being rude; and I accepted, albeit reluctantly, his apology. Afterwards he hugged me and kept on apologising, and saying how he would try really hard to be good in future. I hugged him back and said how I was sure he would be good if he really tried hard.
Once he had calmed down I told him to have a wash and go down to the kitchen. I then went downstairs to the kitchen. Suddenly I was hungry and knew Dave hadn’t eaten anything other than finger food. After several minutes Dave came down. I saw his eyes were still red. I held out my arms and he came over and we hugged. He looked at me and said, “I’m really sorry. I know I deserved it.”
I smiled at him and said unsympathetically, “That’s right you did. Still, it’s all over now. You have been disciplined and maybe that will be the end of it. It’s up to you you know,” I added, looking him straight in the eye.
He gave me an appreciative look and sat down, choosing the seat on which I had placed a nice thick cushion. He looked up and smiled. Maybe he understood it was for his own good after all
“I have made us something to eat. Eggs and beans; you’re favourite. Oh, and there is ice cream with hot chocolate sauce as well.” He thanked me and ate it all, slowly relaxing and chatting away about what we would be doing the next day; almost as though the spanking had never happened.
He did remember the spanking though because afterwards he asked in a worried tone, “Are we OK, Emma?”
“Yes we are,” I said, smiling, but added with a touch of sternness in my voice, “I will not tolerate disobedience anymore, Dave. I need you to do what I say the first time. OK?”
“I guess,” he answered. He looked up at me, tears welling in his eyes, “Are you going to spank me in future Emma; it’s just you spank so hard you know?”
There was only one answer worth giving. “Dave, if you are naughty again I will spank you again; and it has to be hard for you to learn. That’s right isn’t it?” I replied matter of factly, not sure how he would react.
Dave nodded. “OK. I understand, I suppose,” he said, looking at the floor. I knew with that answer the balance of power landed right in my lap, literally.
“Good; that’s agreed.” I snapped. “There is no doubt this is best, and you will be better behaved after a while. Once you get spanked a few times. Then you will learn to obey me the first time,” I added testily.
Suddenly I felt great; in control and happier than ever before. I knew this marriage could work with me in charge.
Dave said reluctantly, “Anyhow, at least I now know that if I make you angry I will get a spanking.”
I could feel the petulance in his voice, or was it respect? Either way we both knew that I would be spanking my husband again.
It was then I saw the bulge in his trousers. He looked embarrassed, was blushing, and licking his lips. I realised my nipples were pressing out through my bra and there was a flutter across my pussy. My goodness, we were both aroused. I knew the sex tonight would be the best ever, or else Dave’s bottom was going to get another spanking.
It was the best sex then as it was now was after every spanking. I still only spank him when he deserves it, but he never complains. Now, twelve years on, he still gets spanked whenever he is naughty and I can’t see us ever stopping. Luckily for him, and for me, he was also the most attentive of husbands when we went to bed afterwards. I recommend it for every wife.
