Harold and Sheila

Trigger warning; spanking, humiliation

*****

Harold ground his molars, his wide, powerful hands gripping the steering wheel of the moving Mercedes so hard he could hear the plastic squeak. He kept his eyes on the road, silent as his wife, Sheila, continued scolding him.

"Really, I don't know what's wrong with you," she said, "You knew it was a toll road, you've driven it a thousand times, and you pulled up without any quarters? Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?"

Harold's eyebrow twitched. "I know it's a toll road, I DO keep quarters in the car, but you're the one who decided to spend $3 in change on a gas station hot dog without telling me."

"Oh, so now it's MY fault?" Sheila huffed, "Really, you never take responsibility. It's incredible how stupid you are, Harold."

Harold turned his head to stare at her. "WHAT did you call me?!"

She batted her eyelashes defiantly. "Stupid. That's what you are."

He didn't blink, locking his eyes onto her. She was always pretty, but had gotten dressed up for the party- a dangerously short, vibrant emerald-colored silk dress wrapped onto her firm, juicy curves, curls of short red hair framing her smooth, freckled face. His voice dark and slow, he said, "When we get home. When we get home, you're gonna get it."

Sheila recognized that gimlet-eyed look he was giving her. She blushed, her heart pounding as she went silent. Before long, they were pulling into the driveway of a tall, gorgeous house, with a picket fence and neatly-groomed lawn.

They stepped out of the car at the same time. Sheila moved straight for the house, trying not to reveal how anxious she was. She pulled the keys from her purse, fumbling to put them to the lock as Harold stepped up behind her.

She succeeded in sliding the key into the lock when a pain on her head made her squeal in surprise. Her head rose away from the door as Harold picked her up by a fistful of her flamey red hair, putting her onto her toes. He reached in front of her, turning the knob and opening the door.

"Yeah," he said, leading her into the house by her hair, "you're gonna get it."

Sheila squealed meekly as Harold led her up towards a beautiful, red-velvet couch. She whimpered, "I take it back... I'm sorry."

"It's too late for sorry, Sheila," he grumbled, a growing passion rising in his voice.

"I didn't mean it," she pleaded as Harold plodded onto the couch, flopping her across his knees, "I won't take any more quarters."

"You knew what would happen," he snarled, grabbing the hem of her fine, silk skirt, "You know what happens when you're bratty. You know what I do to bratty spoiled little children!"

Sheila gasped- he yanked upward, tugging the dress up to her shoulders. Propped up on his lap, there was Sheila's magnificent ass, perfectly round and barely freckled, thick but not very fat, straining against her fine black mesh panties, decorated with pink ribbons and embroidered flowers. Harold admired her mesmerizing derriere, gently sliding his hand up the back of her thigh, resting it splayed out across her buttock- his hands were so broad, his palm practically covered the whole cheek.

He squeezed, then he squeezed harder- he's so strong, Sheila thought. Without a word, he lifted his hand and brought it down on her left cheek with a hearty clap. Sheila made a soft 'eep,' but Harold didn't pause, lifting his hand even higher and bringing it down even harder on her right cheek. The empty house reverberated with 'smack smack smack' as Sheila whined and kicked. Harold paused long enough to grab a generous fistful of her ass, squeezing and pulling, his grip so strong he managed to lift her off of his lap by the flesh on her bones. She moaned- he dropped her pack on his lap, then resumed the punishment.

'smack smack smack'

The flesh on Sheila's hind was growing hot and sore. "Please," she pleaded, "No more, I'll be a good girl."

"Oh?" Harold scoffed, "Well, I'd better make sure to drive the lesson home."

He hooked his fingers under the edge of her panties, yanking it up on one side, then the other, until they were hiked up so far they were mercilessly flossing into her crevice. Grabbing the top of the thong, Harold lifted her hips off of his lap. Hanging her from his hand, he crossed his legs, then lowered her back down, her hips raised enough that her ass was pointed up and shamefully exposed.

Sheila squealed- Harold whipped his hand upward, slapping her jiggling flesh so it swayed upward, then back down so that force rippled down her juicy thighs. He kept on at this, back and forth, up and down, one cheek, then the other. Sheila was blushing hard, gripping the cushions of the couch- propped up on his raised knee, she felt like her whole body was hanging from her raised ass, so that the impacts shuddered through her whole frame.

Harold paused, panting. He was exerting himself, and was starting to sweat through his dress shirt. Taking one of Sheila's ass cheeks in each of his enormous, strong mitts, he lifted her hips off of his knee and slid them aside, tossing her aside so that her top half lay on the couch, her knees on the floor. She was panting, too- her bottom was hot and throbbing, and so sensitive that she gasped when Harold grabbed her panties by the waist and jerked them down her thighs, nearly to her knees.

"Get up," he commanded, his voice low and humorless.

Biting her lip, she stood up, her dress still hiked up to her chest, her panties stretched between her thighs.

"Go to the bedroom. MARCH."

Sheila knew better than to argue. Trembling as she was paraded half-naked through the empty house, trying to keep her panties taut so they wouldn't slide down, shuffling along until she walked into their massive, well-furnished bedroom. Harold stepped in behind her, flicking on the lights to reveal a massive king-sized bed with rich, maroon velvet covers, shining white satin sheets and a regal canopy.

"Get in bed," Harold commanded, "NOW."

Sheila put her hands on the mattress, then crawled on until she was in the middle on her hands and knees. She was muttering some unintelligible plea for mercy.

"You're gonna whine? Like a bratty little girl!? Fine, I'll show you what happens when you whine. Put your ass up in the air."

Sheila gulped, lowering herself down until her face and breasts rubbed against the fuzzy velvet, her ass towering over the bed.

"Higher," Harold commanded. She shuddered as she recognized the sound of a belt being un-buckled. She brought her knees closer together, lifting her buttocks a few inches up.

"Higher," he repeated as she heard the long, drawn-out 'vvvvvvp' of a leather strap getting pulled through some loops. She whimpered, digging her feet into the covers as she lifted her butt a few inches higher.

Harold gave no warning; the tip of his belt whipped across Sheila's delicate, creamy cheeks with a 'crack' that rang through the room. She yelped as the harsh leather tongue lashed across her, stinging her again and again.

Eventually, Harold's frenzy reached a peak: he roared, leaping into bed, flipping Sheila onto her back and dropping himself on top of her. She gasped- she was so wet, his cock's full length was inside her in an instant, but she was amazed at how huge and rigid it was- he must have been really excited, she thought. Her thoughts disappeared as he started lifting himself up and down, thrusting into her, pounding her hips with the full weight of his body.

She moaned as he rolled over, pulling her on top of him. "Ride that cock. Ride it!" He barked. Not wasting a second, she lifted her hips up, then dropped them back down. "Harder!" He demanded. Yowling like a cat in heat, she attacked him with her hips, making the whole bed shake. Harold smacked her ass, again and again and again, scolding her. "I work too hard to put up with your sass! This is what happens when you don't appreciate me! I do everything to keep you happy, and dammit you're gonna be grateful!" The rhythm and force of his hands slapping onto her bouncing ass getting greater and greater, until Sheila's head rolled back and she wailed, "OOOOohh I'm sorry! I'm- oh, I'm so so sorry! I'll never... ever... ever... do... tha... that... agaaaAAAAEEEAAGH!"

Harold gritted his teeth, lifting his hips off the bed as he plunged his member into her depths. Her ass throbbing and sore, Sheila felt semen trickle out of her hole as her eyes rolled and legs shuddered at the tail end of a show-stopping climax.

Harold smiled, gently caressing Sheila's breasts. "That's my girl," he said.

"Ugh." They both looked up at the doorway. There, with one hand holding a glass of water and the other rubbing their eye, was their teenage daughter, wearing the over-sized Dr. Who T-shirt she slept in. "Y'all guys are fuckin' weird, yo."

"Language!" Harold and Sheila scolded in unison.