Doug would be the first one to tell you that Jill had turned his life around and he’d never been happier. He’d been searching for years, before he met his wife, for a woman who would care enough about him to make him accept the discipline he knew he needed, wanted, dreamed about. But he’d also be the first to admit that when he was actually facing that discipline, as he was now, he found himself quaking with dread!

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Doug would be the first one to tell you that Jill had turned his life around and he’d never been happier. He’d been searching for years, before he met his wife, for a woman who would care enough about him to make him accept the discipline he knew he needed, wanted, dreamed about. But he’d also be the first to admit that when he was actually facing that discipline, as he was now, he found himself quaking with dread!

 

Seating herself with rigid correctness on her favorite spanking chair, Jill simply pointed to her lap. The paddle was laid on the floor to her left, perfectly positioned to be inches from Doug’s nose as he draped himself across her thighs. And what thighs they were! Long, firm, well-muscled, encased now in sheer stockings, the tops of which were barely revealed below her raised hem. His semi-rigid cock slid down between all this glorious silkiness as Doug got his bottom correctly positioned. The thighs tightened their embrace a bit and then moved slowly back and forth just enough to make him groan from the friction. A drop of clear fluid traced a glistening web down to the carpet.

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​Jill’s right hand gently caressed Doug’s slightly quivering buttocks, letting one fingernail trace the lightly furred crack from its beginning to where it disappeared between his muscular legs. She thought again what a perfect ass he had: tight, firm, and exquisitely sensitive. She loved watching it turn from pale cream to warm pink, to hot cherry red. She loved giving Doug exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t want it.

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“You don’t have a single mark on your bottom, Doug. I think you’re just making excuses to try to get out of taking that lovely paddle. You really hate that paddle, don’t you, Doug,” she purred softly. “But you know you deserve the blistering it’ll give you, Sweetheart. You know you need it.”

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“No, Jill, really I — UH!”

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​She had raised her right arm well above shoulder height and brought it down fast and hard, then watched in awe as the perfect imprint of her hand appeared on the summit of her husband’s perfect ass. She liked to watch that first marking-- like a brand. She heard his indrawn breath and saw him lower his head a bit, steadying himself for what he knew would follow. She liked that, too.

 

Jill’s strong right arm now began a regular rhythm, not too fast, varying its point of impact to include all of Doug’s bottom cheeks and the top hand-width of his thighs, which were especially tender. She spanked hard. As the warmth and color increased, each resounding CRACK seemed to push an audible puff of air from Doug’s lungs, a sound that gradually evolved into a more definite “uh” with each smack, reflecting his increasing discomfort.

 

Now his head began to move up and down, or side to side, as first one foot and then the other lifted, shifted, his bottom quivering, now squirming. The sounds changed to “oh” and then a breathy “oh, please” with each burning impact. As the pain built, each “o-oh” became more audible, more drawn out, then changed to a softly panted running litany of “oh, Jill”, “oh, please, Jill”, “no, please”, “no more, please”, “oh, it hurts”, “oh, Jill, it hurts, please, Jill”, both the volume and note rising, becoming more urgent, more desperate. Doug’s body language also grew in eloquence, his hips squirming frantically, legs jerking and kicking, head and torso lifting and rolling.

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At last Jill’s hand ceased the relentless punishment. She admired the deep red of Doug’s backside, lightly caressing the flesh to enjoy the heat of it. He continued to pant and moan for a few moments, gradually bringing his squirming under control.

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“Go stand in that corner so I can admire my handiwork,” she ordered, her voice made slightly hoarse and breathless by her intense arousal. “In a few minutes I’m going to use this paddle on your ass and really make you jump.”

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“Jill, please,” Doug groaned hopelessly, as he lifted himself from his ignominious posture and took up an equally humiliating position in the corner. But he didn’t dare continue his pleading from there, knowing it was forbidden. It would have been wonderful to be able to rub his fiery bottom, but he knew better than to do that either. He couldn’t think of anything but that paddle and his burning ass. She was right about one thing. That damned paddle was really going to make him jump. He hated it. She was right about that, too. It wasn’t especially large, but it was thick and heavy, with a double line of small holes drilled down the center. And since Jill was a tennis pro, you can bet she knew how to swing it! The sting was ferocious, and he’d had blisters from it more than once.

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​Doug often compared his stunning wife to a Valkyrie with good reason. Standing within an inch of six feet, with waist-length pale blond hair, icy blue eyes, and the well-muscled physique of the professional athlete, she caused men’s heads to snap around wherever she went. Jill relaxed now in an overstuffed chair, swinging one incredibly long leg over the padded arm, while she contemplated what position she would make her husband assume for the next phase of his punishment. She enjoyed punishing her gorgeous husband. By the time they’d been on two dates it was obvious that they were meant for each other. He wanted and needed it, and she loved to give it. She took pleasure in disciplining Doug in a variety of ways, not just spanking. Her creative mind was always working on new ways to make him suffer for his transgressions.

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“Come over here and clear these books and beer cans off the coffee table, Sweetheart,” Jill purred. Head thrown back against the chair, her hands lovingly caressed the polished wood of the paddle as she watched Doug from under half-closed lids. “I think I’ll let you straddle that. It’ll force you to keep your legs open.”

 

Doug groaned and squirmed a bit at the mental picture, but he cleared the table as ordered. His cock had hardened again as the burning pain in his posterior had changed to a deliciously itchy warm glow. He desperately wanted to rub himself, both fore and aft, but Jill was watching him closely, and he was already in enough trouble. “Jill, please, couldn’t you let me off just a bit. I really was going to mow the lawn and clean up the garage. I just wanted to be able to watch some of the game. If you’d been gone as long as usual, I’d’ve had everything done by the time you got home. Honest,” Doug pleaded with what he hoped was eminent reasonableness. “All right, I know I should have done my chores first and then watched some of the game, but I’ve already been spanked. That was a really hard spanking, Honey. Isn’t that enough?” he begged, his voice rising nearly to a whine at the end.

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“Not on your life, Sweet Cheeks,” Jill grinned lazily. “Now I want you to straddle that table down toward one end, and then bend right over, put the top of your head on the table, and support yourself with your hands on either side of the table on the floor.” She watched Doug assume this position and she smiled. Yes, this should do nicely. Doug hated the sort of posture that left his genitals swinging in the breeze, so to speak. Being bent and spread like this, completely open, made him feel intensely vulnerable.

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She stood and moved slowly to place her left hand, holding the paddle, on her husband’s back. With the other hand, she reached between his legs to tease his twitching cock, letting one finger spread the drop of moisture on the end around the reddened glans. She lightly scratched her nails across his balls and felt them tighten in response. Doug’s eyes closed, and the air hissed in softly between his teeth. Laying the paddle on the table, Jill went to stand directly behind him. She slid her hands up under his tense body until her fingers found the small, firm buds on his chest. Pressing her pelvis against his still warm bottom, she began to twist and pull his hardened nipples.

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Doug’s penis leaped in needy response to his wife’s exquisite torment. “Oh, God, Jill, please. I need —” his breath came out as a ragged groan.

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“I know exactly what you need, Sweetheart,” Jill smiled. Her hands slid back down his stomach but separated before making contact with his painfully engorged organ, and came around to his hips. She ran a finger up his nicely spread bottom crack, watching his sensitive anus twitch when her nail scraped it.

 

She placed her hands on each side of Doug’s bottom and stretched it wider apart, then applied more pressure to pull his cheeks very hard up and out, until even his anus was forced slightly open. “Shall I get out that nice big dildo, Doug? Would you like that?” she threatened softly.

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“Oh, please, Jill, not that. Please,” Doug’s whispered entreaty ended in something close to a sob.

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Jill chuckled and reached down for the paddle. She rubbed the cool wood across his right buttock, let the edge slide up and down his crack, and then brought the other side up to softly caress his left cheek. She heard Doug’s breath come out as a tiny whimper, felt his legs and ass quiver in fearful anticipation.

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​With one smooth, continuous movement Jill’s right arm shot up and back down to land the paddle with a resounding CRACK!

“AH-H-H-H!” Doug’s eyes and mouth opened widely at the same moment. His head left the table to arch back, as his knees buckled slightly. 

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Poor Doug struggled to maintain his awkward position as Jill began a slow, but inexorable, rhythm with the paddle. She had promised to make him jump, and jump he did! He jumped, he writhed, he HOWLED!

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​“OW-W-W-W! Oh, please no! OH-H-H, it hurts. No more, please! OW-W! Please, Jill, not so hard! I can’t stand it! YEOW-W-W-W! IT BURNS!”

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​Doug danced frantically. His ass was on fire. He was having trouble staying bent down in such a horrible position, and his upper body started lifting in a natural response to the agony being inflicted on his backside.

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“If you don’t stay down in position, Mister, I will tie your wrists and ankles to the legs of this table,” his wife warned sternly, never breaking her rhythm. “And if I have to tie you down, I promise I’ll whip your ass until you wish you’d never been born! Is that clear?!”

“YOW-W-W! YES! Oh, please! OW! OW! OW! I can’t take it! IT HURTS!”

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Doug’s fingers curled tightly into the carpet in an effort to keep himself in this awful posture. He pleaded for mercy and twisted his hips this way and that in a futile effort to avoid the excruciating impacts.

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“NO-O-O-O! No more, please! OW! OW! Oh, please take it easy on me! PLEASE!”

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​His wife’s tennis-trained arm knew exactly how to deliver the blows to achieve maximum effect on her spouse’s upturned backside. His widely splayed legs left some of the tender inner curve of his cheeks available for punishment, and his screams reached a fevered pitch as these sensitive areas were targeted.

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“YEOW-W-W-CH! Not there! Eeeeeeiiiiiiiii! NOT THERE! PLEASE!”

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​She took her time and did a very thorough job. When Jill diabolically brought the paddle up to torture the very center of the underside of his bottom, he rose on his toes and shrieked. He was sobbing and begging by the time she decided he was finished.

​“Ah-h-h-h,” Jill slowly let out a long breath, trying to control her intense arousal. She helped her husband out of his awkward position and let him lie down full length on the couch so she could inspect his well-punished bottom.

 

“I love making sure you learn your lessons, Darling.” She spoke softly, lightly running her hand over the scalding surface of her husband’s poor, tortured behind as his sobbing slowly subsided to pants and moans of misery. “Your ass is so beautiful — deep crimson, with lovely welts running all over it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find some nice little blisters when I look closely. I know you’ll think twice before procrastinating on your chores again, won’t you, Love.”

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​“Oh, God, Jill. I swear I’ll be good. I’m so sorry I disobeyed. I promise I’ve learned my lesson,” Doug moaned, the strain of his ordeal evident in his voice. “Oh, my bottom hurts so bad, Jill. I’m on fire.”

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“I know, Sweetheart,” Jill crooned, slipping her hand between her husband’s legs. “So am I.”

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