1.
It was all my fault, I knew, but that didn't make it easier to accept. If I hadn't been talking on the phone I wouldn't have scraped my car on the way back in the drive again. I got out of the car to look at the not very long scrape along the black paint of the passenger side. What made it worse was that Paul, my husband was looking out of the window and he could see it too. What else he'd seen I did not know.
I entered the house expecting shouting and screaming and difficulties over the next few days. I felt angry at the thought and I hoped that anger would allow me to ride out any arguments. I was good at arguments regardless of who was to blame. I knew I was wrong this time but if I apologised, regardless of meaning it, and kept repeating it he could do and say very little. He would expect sackcloth and ashes but he'd just have to cope with his frustrations at my small lapses. If he didn't he would be in the wrong morally. Any item I did wrong were generally small and trivial to be honest. Sackcloth and ashes just wasn't me and he would have to realise. I was attractive, I knew, and I spoke my mind and people generally accepted me for what I was, he would have to. I took off my jacket in the hallway ready for a shouting match.
He stood there saying nothing, looking quite calm actually, which unnerved me a little to be honest.
I watched him looking at me, both of us simply standing looking at each other, then after an eternity he gently but firmly took my arm and led me into the living room. His unnerving quiet certainty made me quiet too, unusually passive for me. He took me into the room and sat on the sofa and leaving me standing in front of him. I didn't understand what was happening. Gently he pulled me down and unti I first bent over his knees then laid over them. I was splayed over his knee! My head was on the sofa beside him, my bottom upthrust and angled across his lap. To say I was shocked was an understatement and it stopped me reacting.
He was going to spank me! He couldn't surely. I knew I was in the wrong but this was ridiculous. I knew I deserved it, had on numerous occasions to be frank, but he had never done this before. No one had. I felt his hand on my back, the elbow on the back of my neck whilst his other hand artfully undid my cotton trousers underneath me. I felt silly, embarrassed, but I was in shock I think. I didn't fight him or shout or do anything to stop him. It must have seemed as if I was accepting what he was doing. I was strangely passive. My breathing was rapid and I tried to clear my brain. I couldn't understand why I just let him but that's what I did.
"Lift." His hands held my trousers and without really thinking I lifted my hips from his lap so he could wrench them over my hips. I lay realising that I had virtually given in to it, doing as I was told. He had put me over his lap like I was six years old — me, a grown woman. He had slipped trousers and my panties down my legs, he arranged my body into the position he wanted. He didn't ask permission or tell me to move, he just did what he wanted with me.
My legs were spread wide and the blood rushed to my face. Normally I'm never embarrassed about my body. Having him see my pussy doesn't raise the tiniest blush but having my buttocks thrust up to him, my pussy presented to him from behind overcame me. I could feel the fabric of his pants against me and the cool of the air. Later I realised the spanking made me rub against him and I had juiced up. I knew he could see. That humiliation was even worse. I couldn't be doing this, nobody would, least of all me. But I was. I had no answer. This wasn't the verbal swordplay I had expected and generally won. He wasn't arguing or discussing anything. He had simply decided and had taken control. I wasn't used to that. It felt humiliating being treated like a child with my very bare bottom in the air.
He began spanking me slowly. Obviously I hadn't realised but there is nothing in the world that focuses one so quickly. Each slap of his hand had my undivided attention. I think he spoke to me but I cant remember what he said just the slap, slap of his hand. It hurt, not unbearably but it hurt. He spanked one cheek then the other over and over, not rushing but relentlessly. The pain built and so did the heat in my bottom from the smacks. Although I couldn't help but kick my feet occasionally and moan at times I was aware I never attempted to escape, never even thought to argue. I submitted to it, I was at fault after all, but I strangely accepted his disciplining of me.
After quite a few slow smacks to my bottom he pulled me up and told me to stand and I thought it was over. However, he told me to remove all my clothes. I began immediately without thinking, maybe it seemed perverse to start arguing now, I just did as I was told. My trousers and knickers were already down my legs and I leant on his shoulder to remove them fully before taking off my top and bra. He held out his hand and took mine again. It vaguely registered that I had hardly ever been naked whilst he was dressed before, sometimes after a shower, for seconds in the bedroom, not often. We weren't even naked together much these days. It was also obvious who was in control at the moment. He told me what I had to do and now totally naked I did it.
I leant over his knees again with my head on the sofa. He positioned me this time, pulling a leg onto the sofa, spreading my other wider, exposing me. It felt very humiliating, and suddenly, unexpectedly, the realisation of how highly aroused I was hit me. I became acutely aware that the position meant that my mound was pressing down on his thigh and as he began spanking me again the shock of each blow was causing a rhythm of pain and then pleasure. I couldn't help but become more aroused as my clit came into contact with his leg each time. Now, even though the spanking left little room in my mind for anything else, the humiliating knowledge of my arousal filled the rest. I was being spanked, totally naked, like a naughty little girl and yet at the same time the heat suffusing my bottom and the constant attention to my clit meant I was very aware I was hot in more ways than one. I shuddered as I thought he might be able to tell too.
I was making soft mewling noises and tears were gently ruining my make-up. The spanking had built slowly and I felt more and more at his mercy, making me feel more and more, well, submissive. It normally wasn't like this, we both knew I called most of the shots, it felt most odd, but he was definitely in control now as his hand smacked and smacked me and the heat filled me.
I was pushing down on his leg and pushing up to be smacked and just as I felt myself ready to lose it he stopped. He left me gasping, all I could hope was that he thought it was just the pain.
"Stand up." He continued to surprise me. I was forced to roll off him into a kneeling position on the floor and then unsteadily got to my feet. My bottom cheeks were on fire and I my face felt the same. He stood too and took me near the big French windows looking out over the garden. There were houses at the end and I was about to protest but he slapped my ass again and I moved to stand where and how he wanted me. A strange lethargy had filled me, almost a peacefulness as I ended up with my arms folded behind my back looking out of the window. In a vaguely out of body sort of a way it occurred to me that someone might be in the garden, or looking from some of the houses further away, would see me totally naked and not covering myself but it didn't seem to be in my power to do anything.
"Stand up and be still, Hannah. Don't move until I come back to you." I stood as I was told, in a trance looking at the clouds in the sky rushing past as the throbbing heat of my hips otherwise filled me. I would have liked to touch my pussy but not here like this and I doubted if he would have thought it appropriate. When he came back he stood behind me, I wanted to turn but knew I shouldn't. I was unnerved again by his quiet, by him out of my sight. Suddenly there was cold on my hot inflamed cheeks, he was rubbing cream on me.
"Lean forward, Hannah. Hands on your knees." I did as he rubbed the coolness over me. It felt good. I thanked him. He tapped my inner thighs and I spread them wider for him. It was very humiliating like this. He must know, the sod. Eventually after covering my buttocks and thighs his hand rubbed up between my cheeks, up in the crack near my pussy but not quite there, then suddenly a finger slid deep into my ass! Oh God. I would have stood upright if he hadn't have put his other hand on my back. Nobody, no one had ever done that! Humiliation washed through me yet again. Oh God! He'd never even suggested his interest in my ass. His finger felt huge there even though I could feel it was well lubricated. I must have made some noise of protest as he told me to be quiet. The humiliation was intense and I felt really faint. Tears filled my eyes. Without removing the finger he made me to stand upright.
"Whenever you are to be punished again, before and after Hannah, you will stand here and wait, naked as you are now." Again? What did he mean again? Why was he going to do it again? I didn't ask him. I couldn't focus on things. Instead I simply nodded. Did he expect to be doing this again? Oh God. He removed his finger very slowly from me. The opening stung slightly, keeping me aware of even though the finger wasn't there anymore, something certainly had been.
He turned me round and opened his Jeans. He was rock hard. His cock stood up and took my entire attention. A hand went to my shoulder and without needing further prompting I sank to my knees and took him in my mouth. I rarely did this. I wasn't too keen to be honest, but I had no reservation this time. I was hot for him. I worked my mouth on him almost with desperation, he felt really good in my mouth, fucking my mouth. He was holding my head and fucking me. Suddenly I knew he was coming and tried to move away but he held me and came in my mouth. I heard him speak. I wasn't to let it out, I was to swallow! I did.
After, I went to dress but he told me not to. I couldn't believe it. I stood staring at him not fully comprehending.
"You are to remain as you are for now."
"But I haven't anything on!"
"I am fully aware of that, I'm not blind. You will stay naked until I tell you to dress."
It felt really odd. I knew my body was quite attractive but I was unusually wracked by doubt, was my bottom too big, were my tits too small, was I overweight? On top of that I felt as though I was doing something wicked, as though I was being an exhibitionist. As I moved, emptying the dishwasher, my body made itself known to me more than normal as it swayed and bent, my nipples strangely hard. I felt really self conscious while at the same time attempting to look pleasing for my husband. I did, I wanted him to be pleased, excited.
By the time we went to bed he still hadn't let me wear clothes nor would he let me wear my nightie and I lay naked on my stomach, my cheeks still tender. I felt his hand over them, caressing me. He felt between my legs and had me spread my thighs. I was very wet, embarrassingly wet. I felt his hard cock against me. He didn't waste time on foreplay, though that was usually his strength, he simply took me as if he knew it wasn't necessary. He rutted me like a dog. He took me from behind, my head down, my hips high. I heard myself grunting as he fucked me hard and furiously from behind. Normally I wouldn't have put up with such treatment, but then I loved it, I couldn't get enough of him as he used me. I came very quickly and then again as he pumped into me and came himself. I was exhausted and slightly embarrassed when we finished.
Hours later I was wide awake as he snored softly beside me. I was laying on a wet bed, semen still leaking from me, trying to deal with what had happened, but it wasn't easy, it had been a strange day. I thought I should feel brutalised but I couldn't find the anger I needed to deal with it in my normal way. He had been strange, not like the previous Paul or at least the one I thought I knew. What was going on? He had spanked me! No man had ever spanked me before. I found myself getting overheated once more, my nipples again erect, and my juices mixing with his and flowing copiously between my legs again. I thought of myself trying to twist away from the smacks, but I also knew, at the same time, it wasn't quite like that, that in fact I had been raising up slightly, perhaps unconsciously, to be accessible, to offer a more tempting target as well as rubbing myself against him, trying to get off on his leg. He had made me. It had been disgusting even. Like when he put his finger in my bottom and when he took me later. Animals did it in the way we had, not intelligent people. But I had been part of it too, I had being disgusting too. Had I enjoyed it? Why had I become so aroused? Nothing was as simple as I wanted it to be, the more I thought the more my complete order of things was in disarray. I knew I would be sore in the morning but I guessed it would remind me of the sex, of the wonderful fucking.
He never mentioned the car again. I even overheard him on the phone organising its repair with the garage but it wasn't mentioned between us. I was wary of him, this different Paul. Maybe it was the same Paul but I hadn't noticed. I was uncertain, not knowing if or how much the normal ground rules had changed by what had happened. I certainly wanted more hugs and reassurance than I ever had previously, I felt a bit pathetic but it didn't stop my neediness. I felt tense though Paul carried on as he had before, looked as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Gradually his relaxed mood softened mine, and though I still watched him for any signs I slowly returned to the personality I had before.
But it couldn't last I now realise. Emptying the dishwasher, one day, I dropped a plate. Only a small plate, but it broke. I stared at it willing it to repair itself as I felt my face burn. I looked at it wide eyed. Eventually I looked up to see Paul standing in the kitchen door, then he came over.
