under-penalty-of-law
INTERRACIAL EROTIC STORIES

Under Penalty Of Law

Under Penalty Of Law

by notalenthac
19 min read
4.27 (51100 views)
adultfiction

This is my entry for Crime and Punishment 2024! Hope you enjoy and thanks to

soflabbwlover

for organizing the event! And thank you to my friend and beta reader

elizaloo

, too!

For the folks looking for my usual angstfests, this ain't one of them. It's just a silly, sweet little bit of smut. Don't worry, I'll be back to the misery mines soon!

CW:

mild raceplay

---

There are three things you need to know about Ariel, my wife.

First, she's gorgeous. I mean, she might not be to everyone's taste, but she is to mine. Ari is an absolute shortstack of a woman. She's short even for a Filipina at a smidge under five feet (I'm sure she'll yell, "Four-eleven-and-a-half, Kyle! Round up!" when she reads this), with the missing height apparently deposited in some truly magnificent curves. Add to that her long black hair, adorable round face, mischievous eyes, and an easy, broad smile? I was smitten the moment I laid eyes on her.

The second important thing is that she's always been a good girl. Daughter to overprotective immigrant parents, raised in the Catholic Church, and even more sheltered than those two factors would suggest... Well, let's just say that I proved to be a bit of a corrupting influence on her.

That went both ways, though. I'd been a bit of a player in college; when we met at a party, I was looking for my next one-night stand. Turns out Ariel was looking for her very first one, a 'declaration of independence from the shackles of her conservative upbringing,' she told me later, complete with self-deprecating eye roll.

Things didn't work out that way for either of us. What should have been a night of no-strings-attached fucking turned into conversation that lasted well into the pre-dawn hours and falling asleep in each other's arms fully clothed, followed by brunch the next morning, and gentle, intimate lovemaking for the rest of the weekend. We were a couple by the time Monday morning rolled around. Hell, we were probably a couple by the end of that first night, but we just didn't know it. A long-term relationship followed--the longest ever for me--then moving in together, engagement, and marriage.

Which brings me to the third thing you need to know: Ariel is an absolute goofball. I love this about her, how she's so unafraid to be silly or excited about things. She has none of the ridiculous self-consciousness most of us learn early on, instead enthusing about any topic which strikes her fancy. That's not to say she can't be serious when the time calls for it, but she's helped me see how rarely the times actually do call for it.

I'd say I got the better end of the deal, but I also know she'd disagree. She has in the past, telling me to hush when I suggest it, before settling the point with an affectionate, noisy smooch.

Her goofiness has interacted in interesting ways with her good girl nature throughout our relationship, but especially near the beginning. Sometimes, especially when Ariel wanted to play the brat, she tried so, so hard to be a bad girl, but her behavior barely moved the needle to "naughty." Even when cursing--and she cursed like a sailor, a bad habit she picked up from me--she usually sounded like a schoolgirl watching out for the nuns and their rulers, a mix of paranoia and rebelliousness I still find endlessly amusing.

Here's another example: Ariel turned out to have a bit of a submissive streak. It didn't comprise a huge part of her personality, nor of our bedroom fun, but it did poke its head up every once in a while. When it did--when Ari wanted "Daddy" to come out and play a bit rough with his "little girl"--she signaled this by being "bad."

Sort of.

Her version of "bad" meant failing to do the dishes, then pointing defiantly at the pile in the sink. Or holding my gaze while dropping her socks on the floor in the middle of the living room. Or grabbing my XBox controller and running out of the room; not when I was actually using it, though. That would be mean.

Not gonna lie: the adorable impishness she affected when being "bad" often led me to stifle a laugh before I disciplined her.

Eventually, though, she went too far. On our honeymoon, she committed a truly heinous crime, one which incurred far greater consequences than the usual punishments I doled out.

We'd taken two weeks after our wedding to visit her relatives on the island of Cebu, staying at a beachside hotel just outside Cebu City, although we rarely managed to see the surf and sand up close. Instead, her innumerable uncles, aunties, and cousins took us around to all the sights.

At first, I was a little miffed about having our honeymoon hijacked, but by the end of the third day, I saw the hidden wisdom in the packed schedule they'd arranged. Every day, we had to get up early enough and go to bed late enough that our jet lag probably only lasted about half the time it would have otherwise, even though we were essentially twelve hours off our usual day/night cycle.

More importantly, Ariel was in seventh heaven. She came alive when we visited with her family. A few of them had made it to our wedding, while others she'd only ever talked to online, but every one of them we visited brought a bigger and bigger smile to her face, the kids especially.

Ari absolutely adored spending time with her younger cousins, still laughing even as she helped to change diapers. Every once in a while, she'd hold up one of the babies and waggle her eyebrows at me, as if to say, "Can I keep it?" I always gave a playful glare, and she responded with a pout that was maybe 90% fake and 10% real.

We'd talked plenty of times about when we wanted to have kids of our own. Both of us wanted a big family; that much we agreed on. However, Ariel wanted to start ASAP, while I argued we should spend more time together as a married couple first. She inevitably countered with the argument that we'd had four years as a couple already, before sighing and agreeing when I replied, "And hasn't it been great? A little more time. I promise." I meant it, too; she was going to be a great mom, but I, perhaps selfishly, wanted another few years without the added responsibility first.

That didn't keep her extended family from gently harassing us about having kids. After dinner at one of her uncle's houses, Ari's aunt slyly waited until we were both in earshot before asking, "Mixed babies so cute, dili ba?" The other guests agreed wholeheartedly, each with a grin or a wink for the two of us. Ariel nodded bashfully, the morena skin of her face glowing with a warm, subtle blush. A round of quiet laughs rose from the assembled group.

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Her uncle joined in, glancing over at me. "Mga batang gigante!" My face burned with embarrassment; like a lot of words in Cebuano, "gigante" has its origins in Spanish and means the same thing there. Given that, at 6'3" and 200 pounds, I dwarfed everyone in the room, I could work the rest out from context: "huge babies."

Ariel's family roared with amusement at my reaction. She managed to hold firm, though, not wanting me to feel even more self-conscious than I already did. That resolve lasted until her uncle revised his statement to, "Mga giganteng puti nga bata!" Once he said that, she almost doubled over with laughter.

I looked at my wife questioningly, now completely out of my depth. In between gasping, mirthful sobs, she finally managed, "Giant- hah!- giant white babies." My blush deepened from pink to bright red, which renewed Ari's uncontrollable laughing fit. Eventually, she staggered into my arms, giggling, "Giant white babies from my giant white man," while showering me with kisses.

Turning to the crowd, she rapid-fired something in Cebuano that I couldn't follow. The meaning quickly became clear in their actions, as the uncle slapped me on the back and proudly proclaimed, "Good husband for Ariel. Good man. Welcome to our family." The others chorused an agreement, all hugs and well-wishes for me, before sending us packing to our hotel. Admittedly, they sent us on with yet more winks and ribald laughs.

Unfortunately for her extended family's wishes, no conception of giant white babies happened that night. While we were still oversexed newlyweds and comported ourselves as such, exhaustion meant that we maxed out at one session those first few nights. More importantly, we used condoms each time, a habit we'd gotten into after Ariel grew tired of the pill's side effects a year before. Not a habit we enjoyed, necessarily, but needs must.

One other funny thing happened in that first week, though, after her relative-of-the-day dropped us at the hotel.

While I showered the day's grime away, Ari decided she wanted to queue up some porn for us. That wasn't too unusual, since we'd occasionally watched videos together either as foreplay or during sex. Ari especially liked ones featuring a short, buxom Asian woman, like her, paired with a tall, blonde, muscular white man, like me. She mostly giggled her way through them, but they still got her fired up.

And so, when I got out of the shower, I heard porn playing in our hotel room.

White male/Asian female porn.

Hardcore white male/Filipina porn.

Hardcore raceplay white male/Filipina porn.

I won't repeat most of the words the actors said to each other here, but suffice to say many of them would probably get me banned from the better class of social media.

Ariel watched, her jaw hanging open, agog both at the actors' actions and the obscenities coming out of their mouths. When she noticed I'd stepped out of the bathroom, her gaze snapped to mine. "Kyle!"

I couldn't hide my smirk. "Find something fun to watch?"

She glanced back and forth between me and the laptop, a strangely compelling combination of guilt and lust on her face. "Yes. No! I, ah, I was just l- looking for something for- I didn't mean to--!"

The actress' wailing voice interrupted Ari's protestations. "Oh, Daddy, give me that big white cock!"

With that, the spell was broken. I cracked first, going from a smirk to a chuckle. Ariel joined in next with her usual giggle. From there, we escalated through laughs into guffaws, Ari's eyes tearing up and me trying to catch my breath. When my wife repeated, singsong, "Oh, Daddy, give me that big white cock!" I could only collapse onto the bed, chortling the whole way down. That set her off again, too.

Eventually, when we were back down to titters once more, I crawled up the comforter and kissed her, reaching for the laptop. As I made to close it, Ari half-whispered, "Don't." I quirked up an eyebrow. "Just, um, just mute it. I want to watch them while..." Her giggles started back up. "... while Daddy gives me his big white cock." We burst into laughter again, but I did as she asked. In both cases.

To be clear, I don't actually have a 'big white cock.' As with most men, mine is merely above average. Still, as we ventured out into the city over the next week, Ariel would invariably find opportunities to whisper those words to me, giggling each time.

When I asked one of her cousins why random girls would occasionally glare at Ari while trying to sidle up to me, he explained that they were trying to get themselves a "rich American boyfriend." That was doubly hilarious to me; beyond the fact that Ariel was also an American, her extended family's names seemed to be on half the buildings in the city. They were far, far wealthier than I'd ever likely be. Ari whispered an alternate explanation to me, accompanied by a silly grin. "It's because they want your big white cock."

When the reverse happened, and guys glared at me while sidling up to her, her cousin told me it was because they were mad that I was a foreigner "stealing their women," rolling his eyes all the while. Ari once again offered a different take once he was out of earshot. "It's because they're jealous of your big white cock."

"Man, this restaurant has such great service," I'd comment.

She'd lean in and say, sotto voce, "That's because the waitress wants--"

"Yes, yes, my big white cock. I know."

"See? Everyone wants it!" Ari gently nipped my ear, throatily purring, "I certainly do."

"Can we get the check please!"

This went on for days. Each time, she laughed harder and harder at my increasingly exasperated responses, but she always followed through later that night. The words never actually made it into our lovemaking, other than that first night when she'd jokingly mimicked the actress, but she did enjoy teasing me.

I think part of it was that, for once, she did have something she could tease me about, a domain where I had far less experience than her. Look, I'm a middle-class white guy that went to college. I'm not saying I'm some paragon of racial justice, but I have enough self-awareness to know there are some things I shouldn't play with, or at least not unless I'm 100% certain I'm not going to offend anyone. Not out of any fear of being "canceled," whatever the hell that means this week, but because I legitimately don't want to make anyone feel bad through my own ignorance. Especially not someone I loved.

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Ariel didn't have that fear, at least in this context. She knew where her boundaries lay, and she knew where mine did, too. She wasn't going to offend me, just make me a little uncomfortable because of my upbringing. Any discomfort she did cause, she'd more than make up for later. It was a sexy game for her, not much different from the one she played when acting "bad" in order to be "punished."

I'm sure she got a little thrill that the shoe was on the other foot now, though. Before, she'd signal to me when she wanted to play rough, and I'd tease and dominate her until we both had our fill. Now, however, she got to set the pace from beginning to end, believing I couldn't--or at least wouldn't--respond in kind.

Once I started looking at it from that perspective, I began to enjoy the whole thing a lot more. Why shouldn't she have her fun, especially if it meant we both would later?

The night after I came to that conclusion, we ate at the hotel's restaurant. The seemingly endless parade of relatives had left us to our own devices that evening, and the two of us just wanted to relax. As a result, we'd shared a delicious, leisurely meal and flirtatious conversation. My wife, wearing a sleeveless floral minidress, grinned at the young family seated at a nearby table, the parents not much older than us. She watched them trying to wrangle their three children for a time before sighing wistfully and picking up the dessert menu.

Ariel mused, "I don't know what to get. It all looks so good. What do you think?"

The drinks, our playful banter earlier, and Ari's week-long running joke made my response almost inevitable. "I dunno. I hear the big white cock's nice."

I heard a sharp intake of breath. Ari raised her head slowly from the glossy booklet to stare at me, open-mouthed, eyes as big as dinner plates, for what felt like a solid minute. I returned her gaze, sporting a nonchalant, shit-eating grin all the while, before adding, "Or have you had enough of--"

Her mouth slammed shut. Jaw clenched, lips twisted with annoyance, she snarled, "Pay the bill. I'm going upstairs," then almost knocked the table over as she stood. Before I could respond, Ari turned on her heel and walked out.

Not exactly the reaction I'd expected. A laugh, a snarky comment in return, maybe a come-hither stare and some flirting? Sure. But shock and anger, followed by her abrupt departure? Not at all.

I made it to our room about five minutes later, wondering whether I'd just seriously fucked up. After taking a moment to compose myself, I tentatively opened the door. "Ariel? Honey, are you o... kay."

Gone was the minidress, along with her bra. Instead, she stood next to the bed clad only in a black thong--I didn't even know she'd packed a thong!--and high heels. Ari had put on fresh makeup, too, and more than usual; whereas my adorkable wife generally favored understated, natural colors, the tiny sex goddess standing before me sported garish red lipstick and messy, hastily applied smokey eyeshadow.

I scarcely noticed the makeup, though. Her large breasts--only a C cup, but looking massive on her compact frame--jutted out proudly, their chocolate, silver-dollar-sized areolae and thick, long nipples drawing my eyes downwards from her face. Between those incredible tits, a cute tummy, and wide hips, her naked body looked to me like nothing so much as the Venus of Willendorf by way of my teenage masturbation fantasies.

As I entered the room and closed the door behind me, Ariel stared me straight in the eyes--once they'd returned from their sightseeing trip--with a defiant smirk on her face. The nearest corner of the bedding had been peeled away, including the fitted sheets. With one hand, Ari reached down to the surface of the mattress, then past its top edge, before grasping a small rectangle made of satin.

A mattress tag.

She tugged once, but it didn't come loose. Her expression froze; not quite what she'd planned, I don't think. However, a second yank pulled the offending strip of fabric free with a ripping sound. Ariel gave a triumphant, gleeful, "Hah!" before holding her trophy up. "What do you think of that, Daddy? Huh?"

Don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh

"Oh, little girl. You don't even want to know." Striding forward, I pulled my polo over my head, momentarily concealing the goofy grin that snuck onto my face. By the time the shirt sailed into the corner, I'd regained the stern expression Ari expected, even if my eyes didn't quite match it. She, in turn, smiled smugly up at me, thinking she knew what came next.

Normally, I'd have given Ariel a tongue-lashing to start or maybe warmed her up with a kiss. This time, however, I went straight to work. My wife-cum-bratty-sub made a little surprised squawk when, in one quick motion, I swept her off her feet, sat on the bed, and put her across my lap. She made an even louder one when my palm impacted the smooth, warm flesh of her ass. "Ow!"

My hand massaged the spot where I'd just struck. I hadn't hit hard; I never did. Pain wasn't the point, or at least not the main one. The act of punishment was. She wanted to play the bad girl, so I had to act as the stern disciplinarian.

And that meant turning her ass cherry red.

Perhaps not exactly what they mean by "blushing bride," but it worked for us.

I raised my hand once more. "Count them." It descended to slap the other cheek.

"Ow! Two!" Another, alternating sides. "Three!" She squirmed in my lap, but not to get away. Another. "Four! It hurts, Daddy!"

I affected the cruel voice I reserved for these sessions. I'd found it by accident, but its sinister tone always got her going even more. Got me going, too. It's nice when couples can share hobbies. "It's supposed to. What do bad girls get, Ariel?"

When she didn't immediately respond, two quick slaps rained down. Her magnificent ass shook in the most mesmerizing way. "Five! Six! Ah! I won't say it! You can't make me!"

"We both know I can." My erection throbbed, pushing against the inside of my shorts and poking into her stomach. "We both know you will."

I caressed her flesh, now subtly hotter than it had been when we began. She relaxed incrementally, perhaps thinking that I'd finished. I hadn't. Two more loud smacks followed. "Ow! Ow! Seven! Eight!" Petulantly, she hissed, "No, I won't!!"

I reared back for a more sizable stroke. The brat on my lap whimpered, "No! Wait!" before a thwack as loud as a starting pistol elicited, "Ow! Nine! I'm sorry, Daddy! A spanking! Bad girls get a spanking!" The gentlest of taps on her other buttock gave us an even, "Ten!"

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