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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Naughty is Nice
by The Captain (no address provided)
***
Wife who sorely needs it, and finally gets a spanking.
(MF, spank, xmas)
***
My wife can be a real bitch. I mean a real, first-class,
pain in the ass bitch. I've put up with it for years.
She's a year-round bitch, but she's worse at Christmas.
I don't know if it's the stress of the season or what,
but starting about Thanksgiving she is harder and harder
to be around. That lasts through New Year.
So why do I put up with it you may ask? I married her
mostly for her money, of which daddy makes sure she has
plenty. I think he's afraid I might leave and "give her
back." Believe me I've thought about leaving, but
despite her foul attitude, I have a pretty comfortable
life. Why chuck that?
The other day after a round of golf, I was confiding in
a friend over a few beers. He listened, asking the
occasional question.
"You know what she needs," he said.
"What's that?"
"She needs a spanking," he said matter-of-factly. "In
fact she needs to be spanked regularly."
"Yeah, right. Like she's going to let me spank her."
"Man, what's wrong with you? She isn't going to LET you,
at least not at first. Grow a pair, take her over your
knee and paddle the shit out of her!"
"Just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that!" said with a hint of frustration.
"You ever spank your wife?"
"Two or three times a month. Sometimes more."
You could have knocked me over with a feather. I never
would have guessed.
"It helps in the relationship department and it REALLY
helps our sex life!"
"Sex? What's that?" He laughed. "No kidding? It helps
your sex life?"
"Don't believe me, ask the wife."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously!"
"Well, I don't think I need to do that."
"It's a great story," he said with an impish smile.
"Okay, so, tell me: how do I get started?"
"One night soon you'll be thinking you've had enough of
her bullshit. Tell her that! Then grab her, and drag her
across your lap and spank the hell out of her."
"I don't want to hurt her."
"Yeah you do. You just don't want to do real damage. So,
the first time, use your hand. It'll hurt your hand long
before you can do any real damage. Next time you can up
the ante to a leather paddle and then a strap. There are
all kinds of possibilities. I'll coach you."
"She's gonna struggle and fight you. She's gonna scream
and curse. And then she's gonna beg you to stop. Pay no
attention to the hysterics. In fact, let it fuel your
fire. I'll bet you'll get a blue steel hard-on. But
don't stop 'til you're ready to stop."
"All the while your spanking her, lecture her. Tell her
that her behavior is unsatisfactory and you're not going
to put up with it any more. Things are going to change.
Tell her there will be more spankings in her future.
I'll tell you the way it works with my wife, but get
started and then we'll talk some more."
He certainly gave me a lot to think about, which I did
all the way home.
When I got home, my wife was nowhere to be seen. Four
days to Christmas and I guessed she was out shopping.
When she got home she had little to say except to
complain about the crowds and the traffic and the surly
store clerks and... well, you name it, and she had a
complaint.
It would have been a great time to put "Operation: Spank
the Bitch" in to action. But I chickened out. And I
chickened out the next day and the next night. But the
NEXT night, Christmas Eve...
***
Christmas Eve. She came in from some last minute
shopping, threw her car keys on the kitchen table and
started screaming at me, like I'd done something. I
listened for about thirty seconds and then I started
screaming. I guess the surprise of that was too much and
she got quiet.
"I'm sick and tired of your bullshit," I said, "and I'm
not going to put up with it anymore!"
Then she found her voice again. "Fuck you!"
"No, dear. Fuck YOU!" I grabbed her by the arm, pulled
her toward a kitchen chair, sat down and dragged her
across my lap. Then she started to struggle.
"Let me go, you bastard!"
I grabbed her right arm and pulled it up behind her
back. "Ow, that hurts!"
"Be still and it won't hurt." She kept struggling.
She was wearing a hip length bulky knit sweater,
leggings, and snow boots. Up came the tail of the
sweater and down came my hand on her butt. Then again
and again, as hard as I could slap her.
"Ow! Stop that! Stop that now!"
Making no response, I continued the spanking and she
continued struggling and telling me to stop. In a few
minutes my arm got tired and my hand was sore. So, I
stopped. I was so into the spanking that I did not
realize she was crying.
"Are you quite done?" she asked in her haughtiest tone.
"Darling, as John Paul Jones famously said, I have not
yet begun to spank you." Releasing her right arm, I
grabbed the waistband of her leggings and snatched them
midway down her thighs. Whoa. Then I saw something I'd
never seen before. She was wearing a thong! A black one.
And it set off her deep pink ass cheeks to a tee.
Even though she is a bitch, my wife is a handsome woman.
She is not what I'd call sexual, but she IS a woman. No
scrawny kid, she. Well-rounded hips and a good ass, good
arms and legs with no flab, large breasts with prominent
nipples and very little sag. Handsome.
"What ARE you doing?" she asked.
And then I resumed the spanking. Her first move was to
reach around with her right hand to protect her
backside. I recaptured it and hoisted it up behind her
back.
"Let go of my arm," she said through gritted teeth. "I
told you it hurts!"
"And I told you: quit struggling and I'll let go of your
arm."
Truth be told, I wanted her to struggle. What a turn on!
And my friend had been right in his prediction. I was as
hard as a rock. She obliged me and kept struggling, so
much so, that I shifted her over just my left leg and
captured her legs between my legs.
Soon, though, she quit struggling and cussing and
started begging me to stop, making all kinds of
unbelievable promises like she had "learned her lesson"
and wouldn't "yell at me again. So, I stopped spanking.
Her ass was a deep pink and so warm it was glowing and
my hand hurt like hell.
"I'm going to stop for now. But understand this, we are
not finished!"
I released her arm and unclamped my legs and pushed her
to the floor. She lay there for a minute and then
climbed to her feet. As she stood she looked me straight
in the eye with a glare that I can only describe as pure
malevolence. She stood there and it looked like she was
fighting herself not to say what she wanted to say, was
dying to say, needed desperately to say. But she didn't.
She started to turn away and I told her to stop. She
froze. Don't ask me why, but I reached out and touched
the skimpy crotch of her thong. It was soaked.
"We ought to do something about that." I smiled.
"Fuck you, you bastard!"
"Don't worry, you will."
END
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 86