0 comments/ 4457 views/ 4 favorites Disciplinary Wife By: spankedhusband At 35 years young, I'd like to think that I look twenty-something. I certainly work hard enough to remain buff with strict dieting, treadmill, free-weights, Yoga, tennis, golf, and Pilates. Bi-weekly salon visits for bikini waxing keep me free of hair or stubble that I used to get when shaving my pubes with a razor. I love the feeling of my husband's tongue as he pays his respects to my smooth vagina, the result of what's known as a 'Brazilian' wax, leaving the pubic area and pudenda barren of any trace of hair. I maintain an all-over tan by daily exposure to the Arizona sun, nude, by our in-ground pool, my privacy assured by the yard's surrounding walls of concrete block. Now and then I'll have a friend over to keep me company but I generally enjoy the solitude and freedom from the burden of carrying on inane conversation about husbands and whatnot. Blond hair and blue eyes - dimples (face and butt) and a smile revealing perfect teeth, at a bit less than five feet in stature and weighing under a hundred pounds, I like to think of myself as evidence of the truth in the adage that 'dynamite comes in small packages'. I'm proud of my body. Sure, good genes had given me a perfect body to begin with. Boobs that qualified as poster girls for the saying that 'anything more than a handful's a waste'. Responsive nipples that were erect most of the time; I never wore a bra, feeling that my boobs were small enough that they didn't need the support. Plus, I loved the feeling of my nipples abrading against the fabric of a blouse, tube-top, or dress. Small-waisted and narrow of hip, my bubble-butt is even more evident due to my overall petite build. As to the rest of me, arms, legs, and all, I'd been told more than once that my body looked like that of a gymnast, perfectly muscular, yet feminine and beautiful. My husband, Bill, and I have been married since shortly after high school graduation and opted to live without children. After Bill's graduation from law school, passing the bar, establishing his own private practice, and earning a reputation for himself locally, he enjoyed a career as an attorney specializing in litigation. I had received a large trust that allowed me the freedom from work. I had no desire to pursue a career, save the world, save the whales, or save anyone or anything but myself. I celebrated selfishness and had developed a scornful disdain for those who were more concerned with others than for themselves. My husband being the exception to this rule as I expected and demanded that I be the center of his universe. I don't mean that I'm indifferent to the wishes of others. I simply mean that, in my world, I come first and, giggle, I cum first. For this reason, I was neither shocked nor dismayed when Bill sat me down for 'a talk' shortly before our upcoming nuptials and tearfully told me that I might not want to marry him when I knew what his fantasies and imagination had caused him to yearn for. He said that it would be unfair to get married, while keeping me blind to 'the real him' as he put it. He was obviously distraught. I'd never seen him that way and it was a bit disconcerting. I reassured him of my love and told him that I couldn't imagine him telling me anything that would dissuade me from marriage and a life together as we'd talked about and dreamed of. Too embarrassed to look me in the eyes, Bill went on to explain that he'd had fantasies for as long as he could remember, of being submissive to a woman. He had imagined this woman would spank him and require him to serve her sexually. He went into some detail, describing paddling, caning, switching and more. He said he wanted to make a full disclosure, so he admitted (his word) that he'd envisioned me fucking him with a strap-on dildo, catching his ejaculate in my cupped palm and requiring him to lick my hand clean. He had more to say, but you get the general idea. We were living at the time in a small cottage, once servants' quarters, on a large estate. We'd lucked upon an ad for the rental, checked it out, and jumped at it. The main house was occupied by only one person - an old lady, mostly deaf, and out of earshot when we wanted to play loud music. I didn't even need to ponder upon Bill's words, since I'd often entertained compatible fantasies of my own. As a young teenager, I'd happened upon my Dad's stash of porn and was surprised (and delighted) to find most of it femme-dom and male submissive. Magazines with pictures of naked men being spanked and whipped by leather-clad women, along with books with written descriptions of these activities, telling of men's subjugation by women, and their grateful servitude to these women's needs - most especially their sexual needs. So, I had no doubt as to whether or not I would enjoy such a relationship with Bill. What I did doubt was his sincerity. Don't misunderstand me. I didn't question his belief that he wanted this. I questioned his resolve. I questioned whether or not he would wimp out if subjected to severe corporal punishment. For, you see, since reading my Dad's porn and having some years to process what I'd read and blend it into a fabric that represented my own personal proclivities, I'd come to believe that this type of relationship would only work if it was genuine. I mean, by that, I wasn't at all interested in spanking play or role play or whatever one wished to call it. I was very much interested, though, in a relationship where my husband would yield, at all times and in all circumstances, to my will. Yield to my whim; and very importantly, yield to my discipline and punishment, both enforced with regular, severe, strict corporal punishment. I'd already imagined Bill taking a paddling from me, his cute bottom painted a bright-red, his face streaked with his copious tears, and his very recently hard cock, reduced to look like it'd been dipped in a pan of ice water. For, you see, while I understood that Bill's sexual fantasies were driven by an innate submissive nature, I doubted his resolve to submit to such a rigorous regimen. Bill assured me, future law student that he was at the time, arguing that he'd considered that the fulfillment of such fantasies would certainly cause him considerable pain. He realized that he would be easily reduced to tears and was only worried that, if and when I brought him to such tears, I would lose respect for him as a man. I told him that I didn't see this as even a remote possibility. I loved him and respected him for many reasons. I didn't question his manhood and felt that he was courageous in expressing a desire to give himself to me and offer to submit to my discipline. I, nevertheless, insisted that we first 'test his sincerity' before we even continued the discussion any further. Bill agreed to this plan and suggested that he could bring me a ping pong paddle from the table in the rec-room if I thought that would be acceptable. At my positive reaction to this suggestion, Bill was gone in a flash, returning with the paddle and a blush reddening his face like a sun-burn. Standing in front of me, with a sheepish look on his face, he proffered the paddle, his usual good manners dictating that he hold it by the business end with the handle towards me. I took that paddle and hefted it in my hand, realizing immediately, that I would need to take care with a paddle so heavy. I knew that I wanted only to spank Bill. I wanted to cause him a serious amount of pain - but I certainly didn't want to injure him. "Look at me, Bill. Look me in the eyes. I want you to make absolutely certain that you want me to use this paddle on you. "But, not only that, you want me to dominate and discipline you in the future, enforcing my authority before and after we're married, with regular and severe corporal punishment. "I want you to understand what this means. I'm not going to play spanking games. I won't be giving you love pats with this paddle or with anything else in the future. "If you decide to go through with this, in a few minutes you will be naked, bent over, and with an ass turning red as a beet from my paddling your bare bottom until you cry like a little girl. "If you are sincere in your offer of submission to me, then you won't be deterred by a sound thrashing. If you question such a future, you'd best back out now. "Know this, my love. After I have paddled your very spankable bottom and after I've reduced you to a blubbering mess, I will require that you go outside of the cottage, nude and with your butt aflame, to cut some switches from the forsythia bushes. "Obviously, the switches will be for me to use on your tenderized buns and also on your legs, especially on your inner thighs. "If this is what you truly want, then get your clothes off and bend over the dining table." Bill didn't say a word, simply removing his shirt, trousers, shoes, socks, and underpants, stacking them on a nearby arm- chair. This was the first time that I'd had my lover in such a position and I intended to take full advantage of it. I felt sexually charged and this is perhaps why I found myself also stripping, until I was as naked as Bill. "Bill, are you absolutely sure of this? There's no backing out once I begin. I won't lose respect for you when you cry for me. I won't lose respect for you when I some day use a strap-on to fuck you. "But I will lose respect for you if you back out of this. Answer me, Bill. If you want me to spank you, to paddle you until you cry and beyond, ask me to do so." "Please, ma'am, would you spank me severely? Will you paddle me and make me cry. Will you please continue to paddle me after I begin crying and not stop until you've broken me?" I'd loved the ma'am and especially liked the idea of 'breaking' him. I'd read of this on the internet and knew that it made sense if we were going to live this lifestyle 'til death do us part. The first swat of the paddle against the fleshy under-curve of Bill's left cheek was music to my ears and a sound that I would forever relish in the coming years. For today, though, I would need to make this beginning one to remember. Disciplinary Wife Ch. 02 It had been a few months since my lover and future husband, Bill, had begged me to make him my submissive. From that very first day, when I'd reduced him to a blubbering mess, tears running down his face and his butt aflame, first from a ping pong paddle and then thoroughly welted from switches I'd had him fetch from outside our secluded cottage, I'd maintained a rigorous routine of regular, severe corporal punishment, constantly reinforcing Bill's understanding of his genuine submission to my authority. I'd told him that I expected three things from him. His obedience, his respectful behavior, and his submission to my discipline and punishment, all enforced through corporal punishment. From that very first spanking, he'd learned that I was impervious to his begging and sniveling. I'd demonstrated that I could be ruthless and totally without mercy when it came to his spanking. I wasn't cruel or mean. I guess that I was at least a bit sadistic, as I became wet from his punishment, deriving a sexual thrill from the very act, enhanced by his crying, his red buttocks, and the knowledge that he continued to submit to my regular spanking partly because of his sexual orientation to be submissive, but also in great measure due to his love and devotion to me. Our little cottage was located on a large estate, the 'big house', as we called it, occupied, now, by only an old woman, half-deaf and confined to a wheel chair. She was also nearly blind and her multiple disabilities kept her house-bound, assuring us of near-total privacy. There were no nearby neighbors, and we were convinced that our privacy was total, until one afternoon in early summer. I'd just finished giving Bill a rather severe thrashing, having secured him first to a make-shift punishment bench that I'd had him fashion from a leather-covered exercise bench, to which he'd attached restraining cuffs for his wrists and ankles, with a final strap half-way down the bench's length, perfect for securing his waist. Bill's behavior in the past several days had not been acceptable, most especially his impudent attitude and general disregard to my wishes inasmuch as he'd shown a hesitance in obeying my dictates, something that I definitely didn't allow. As a result, I followed his paddling, this day, with a severe strapping, using one of my thin, leather belts, and finished up with a switching that left his buttocks and thighs a maze of red welts. Bill was still secured to the bench, his sobbing somewhat abated, with little sniffles and sobs escaping his mouth. He'd learned to take quite severe thrashings and I'd told him more than once of how I was proud of him for having the courage of his convictions, not having once asked me to release him from his pact of servitude to my pleasure and rule since I'd begun his training to be my future husband. Given a solitude that we'd come to take for granted, I was quite surprised to hear a knocking at the front door. I was still nude - I'd developed the habit of stripping naked for Bill's punishment - and Bill, of course, was still nude, and very much welted as he lay on the bench, still restrained at wrist, ankle, and waist. Not thinking of whom it might be, I didn't even bother to put on a robe, opening the door to whoever it might be, unconcerned about my nudity. I'd grown up in a nudist home and was totally comfortable with my nakedness and didn't really care if the person to whom I opened the door would be surprised or offended by my nudity. The girl standing on the stoop was positively beautiful. Like me, she was quite short, probably less than five feet, and petite. Small breasted, trim-waisted, with a bubble-butt, her body was a mirror of my own. Her blond hair, blue eyes, dimples and cute little nose combined to make her elfin features a visual delight. Her smile lit her face, perfect teeth glistening between lightly glossed lips. She was dressed in a midi-blouse, her perfect torso and abdomen bared between the blouse and her mini-skirt, worn low on her hips. It was evident that she wore no bra as her nipples were clearly visible through the diaphanous material of the blouse. She was evidently shaven on her pubes, as the skirt's waist was below where her pubic hair would have been otherwise. Her bare legs and feet indicated that she'd not walked far. I could see her looking past me at Bill's naked body and she didn't seem terribly fazed, either by his welted bottom or by my nudity. Smiling, she opened her mouth and spoke for the first time, her little-girl voice sounding melodic. "I've heard you thrashing your boyfriend and wished that I could be here to watch. I've spanked my boyfriends in the past and adore the sound of a man's crying - when it's a result of a woman's corporal punishment. "I apologize for intruding unannounced and am prepared to be punished for my rudeness, if you'd like to put me onto that bench and give me the thrashing that I need." I'd never spanked anyone other than Bill and wondered if this girl would be capable of enduring the degree of severity that I had become accustomed to inflicting on him. Never having had any sexual experience with another woman, I also found, to my surprise, that I was curious to see if her tear-covered face between my thighs would feel as pleasurable as did Bill's face, imagining that she would lick me to orgasm after I'd thrashed her. "What's your name?" "Vickie." "Vickie, I'm Peggy and my boyfriend's name is Bill." By this time I'd beckoned Vickie into the cottage and closed the door behind her. "Vickie, I wouldn't have invited you in if I didn't think that you were sincere in your request for a spanking. That said, I wonder if you know what you will get if you don't back out of this. "That is your choice. You can back out and leave now or you can stay and get the spanking that you seem to need. "If you stay, you must understand that Bill's buttocks and thighs look like yours will look if you pursue this. "Once I begin your spanking, I won't stop until you've been thoroughly thrashed. Is this what you want, Vickie?" "Yes, ma'am." I found the ma'am a nice touch, especially since I estimated that I was a couple of years younger than her. "In that case, get your clothes off while I get Bill off of the bench." By this time, Bill had composed himself, his bright-red buttocks and welts crisscrossing both his bottom and thighs, the only evidence of his most recent corporal punishment. Bill knew that I'd never spanked another person and I knew that he must be curious to see how events would play out. I gave him a shushing gesture with a finger to my lips, as I didn't want his participation in what was evidently soon to be my first opportunity to spank someone other than him. Vickie had, by this time, stripped naked, having only the blouse and skirt to shed, confirming that she had worn no panties and displaying a perfect little body, her pubes shaved bare identically to my own. Wasting no time, I directed her to the bench and I quickly had her secured, face-down, nude, and completely helpless, the leather restraints preventing even a slight movement, let alone any hope of escape. "This is your only opportunity to stop this now, Vickie. If you want, I will release your restraints, you can get dressed, and leave. "If you stay, I will thrash you as you've never been spanked. First with a wooden paddle and then with switches. You saw what Bill's butt looked like. "If you stay, your butt will look like his, bright-red from the paddle and welt-covered from the switches. "You will cry and eventually sob. You will embarrass yourself with your blubbering and begging. You will beg me for mercy and learn that I am merciless. Tell me now, Vickie, do you want to leave?" "No, ma'am. Please don't make me leave. I want to be spanked severely, as you describe, as I've heard you when you thrash your boyfriend." I didn't bother to respond to her but simply began to paddle her cute little butt. I'd had Bill take a seat to the side where he'd have a ring-side view of Vickie's spanking. I could see that he'd become aroused from the erotic nature of this spontaneous ménage a trois, his erection throbbing, pre-cum leaking from the head of his circumcised penis. I gave Bill a hand signal and a smile, indicating that he had my permission to masturbate while he watched me put this delicious young girl through her paces. I say girl partly because she appeared to be nineteen or twenty and also because of her pixie size and attitude. As I started paddling her rounded butt-cheeks, I began rather moderately, building my speed and force quickly, wanting to convey to this little morsel that she was in for a real spanking, not just play. To her credit, she'd gotten through the initial warm up without fuss and I was anxious to see how she would react to a more serious application of my paddle, followed by the more acute sting of the forsythia switches. As I increased the speed and force of the paddle swats, she finally gave up her stoic façade and began crying. I found the sound of her crying to be music to my ears, and could feel my pussy stirring and moistening. I absolutely reveled in the sensation caused by her literal screams when I started paddling her with the full force of my well-experienced spanking arm. s I said, she screamed, she begged and, finally, she surrendered, no longer resisting the pain, but yielding to it, yielding to me. At this point, I stopped for a break and set the paddle aside. I sent Bill out to prepare some fresh switches and pulled a folding chair up next to the bench so that I could sit next to Vickie and stroked her butt-cheeks, looking as if she's spent far too much time in the sun, sustaining a serious burn. My hands soothing some of the pain away, I spoke to her. Her crying and sobbing were nearly over and I told her, with relish, how I would soon bring her to tears again. I told her, as I stroked her bottom and allowed my fingertips to delve between her inflamed cheeks, and flitting between her spread thighs to confirm that her pussy was soaking, that Bill was outside, cutting fresh switches and that she was soon to learn of their effect on the backs of her thighs and, most especially, on her thighs' ultra-soft, ultra-sensitive, inner surfaces. By this time, Bill was back, his erection swinging back and forth as he entered the cottage with a fist-full of freshly-cut switches. Handing them to me without ceremony, he returned to his chair with a look of expectation on his face and his cock in his hand. I chose a switch from the bunch and set the others aside. I felt no need for further words and simply swung the switch briskly, connecting with the underside of Vickie's right buttock. Then the left, back and forth, one cut after another. Actually, describing these strokes as cuts would be a misnomer. I'd not swing the switch with full force so its effect, while extremely stinging and painful, was a notch short of breaking the skin. But, first a treat; Vickie's neglected thighs. Her skin was that of a young virgin. I doubted, of course, that she was truly a virgin, but she was certainly young, fresh, and soft as a baby. I knew immediately, as I delivered the first cut to her inner-thigh, that I'd enjoy her reaction to the switching. I was already looking ahead, imagining her screams and sobs, her freshly-welted thighs stinging and throbbing from the switch's effect. Vickie was generous with her crying; her sobbing; her blubbering; her begging; and, ultimately, with her offers to 'do anything'. I let her compose herself before I released her from the bench. Both of us nude, I could smell our mutual arousal in the air, me from having just thrashed this beautiful young creature and her from having received that beating almost like a benediction. She seemed to glow with an inner satisfaction, beyond the sexual, which was obvious, evidenced by the flow of her juices down the insides of her thighs. "You took that well, Vickie. I trust that you are ready to serve me now?" I'd made no mention, to this point, of anything sexual, so I was anxious to hear her response. While I knew that she was sexually aroused, I didn't know how she'd feel about going down on another woman; specifically, going down on me. Going down, though, is kind of vague. I wanted her lips and tongue worshiping at my alter of Venus. I wanted to feel her licking my vulva, delving into my pussy with her tongue and sucking my juices from me. All of the things that Bill had been carefully trained to do for me. "Yes, ma'am. Please, ma'am." I had to walk only a couple of strides to reach my favorite chair. My favorite because it was where I was accustomed to sitting while accepting Bill's devotions. Seating myself well forward, with my butt barely on the seat and my pussy easily accessible, I parted my thighs and signaled Vicki to kneel between my legs. No talk was necessary and she knew, of course, what I desired. Leaning forward, she began licking me softly, around my labia and, finally over and between them. I leaned back and simply enjoyed her slavish servicing of my pussy, enjoying one orgasm after another, my thighs gripping her face and feeling the remnants of her tears an aphrodisiac driving me over the peak, time and again.