Confessions of a Kinky Wife

He knelt on the bed beside me and pulled down my shorts to the knees. His palm roved around my cheeks, with their three brands of fire, massaging blissfully.

‘This stops you bruising,’ he informed me.

‘And there I was, thinking you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart,’ I retorted.

He laughed and patted my sore spots gently.

‘I am, in a way,’ he said. ‘Cruel to be kind and all that. Oh, God, I want to kiss you, but the book says not to. Not till afterwards.’

‘Stupid damn book.’

‘Now then. You don’t want me to punish you for disrespecting the book, do you?’

I should never have ordered the bloody thing. Never.

But I pushed my body back into his loving caresses and felt myself, quite unexpectedly, ready for more of the belt.

On bare skin its tongue was twice as sharp, lashing down with instant heat. But I was ready for it, and I wanted it now. The warm-up had done a good job, loosening me up, preparing me to take harder strokes and firmer implements.

He finished the three and rubbed my bottom again, slowly and erotically. I wanted him to touch me between my legs, but it seemed that area was strictly off-limits.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Before I continue, let’s talk. Why did you skip lunch yesterday?’

‘Because I forgot. I was very busy.’

‘That’s understandable, but it’s not the first time. In fact, it became quite an issue before. You remember?’

‘Yes … Sir.’ I enjoyed saying it. Immediately the word was out, I wanted to say it again.

‘So why didn’t you deal with it properly then? Why didn’t you find a workable solution to the problem?’

‘I thought I’d be OK.’

‘You thought wrong, though, didn’t you?’

‘I suppose so.’

His fingertips danced so sweetly along the six thick lines of heat, now starting to cool. If only he’d push them inside me … I longed for it.

‘So what are you going to do about it now? Forget again and have to be punished more severely?’

‘No, Sir. I was thinking … there might be an app for my phone. I could use the alarm feature. Have it keep going off at fifteen minute bursts after midday until I ate something.’

He patted me.

‘Yes. That could work. Do that then.’

I basked in his approval.

‘So,’ he continued, ‘now we’ve solved that little problem, there’s just the matter of rounding off this punishment.’

He picked up the hairbrush.

I didn’t really know what to expect from it. It seemed absurd to be spanked with one’s own hairbrush, such an innocuous item.

‘Six on your bare bottom for the original issue, plus two extra for disobedience during punishment. You’re going to count them for me. Ready? Bum nice and high, please.’

I thrust it back out, full of optimism that we’d have time for a good hard screw once this was done. God knows I was dripping down there.