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Domestic Discipline Addict

by David Witheld 2 months ago in fetishes
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“Honey,” she said as I opened the front door, “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t say anything, just stood aside while she entered the front room.

“Honey,” she repeated, “I’m sorry.”

I turned and faced her, putting on my best glare.

“Stand right fucking there,” I said and turned.

“David,” she sort of wailed as I walked into the dining room.

I grabbed one of our dining room chairs, one of those with no arms, and walked back into the front room, looked around, and set it carefully in the middle of the room.

She watched.

I sat and turned my head to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said for the third time.

“Come here,” I said, pointing to the floor just to the right of where I was sitting.

She came and stood, head hanging, looking for all the world like a 14-year-old girl caught sneaking out.

“I warned you,” I said and then reached up as quick as all of those hours in a karate dojo had taught me and grabbed her by her hair and pulled her down across my lap.

She was in a short skirt because I enjoyed showing her off.

“David,” she said softly, “honey……….”

But she stopped.

I jerked her skirt up and her panties down, exposing her beautiful plus-size ass. For not the first time, I admired the curves I had exposed, the beautiful gluteal cleft, the round globes of her buttocks. My wife has a truly world class ass.

and began spanking her.

I’ve learned a lot since that first time, but that time I just started spanking her, hard.

“David,” she yelled at the first swat.

When she squirmed I just gave a twist in her mass of hair, making her yell louder.

About 25 swats into that first spanking I realized something about myself - I was enjoying this.

I enjoyed the sensation of my palm on her ass.

I enjoyed the redness I was causing.

I enjoyed her tears.

I enjoyed her pleading with me to stop.

I enjoyed the feel of my erection against her waist.

And then we were both surprised when about swat 75 (I wasn’t really counting, it was more like I was venting) she came like a garden hose.

I thought she had lost bladder control when my slacks were suddenly wet.

But the scent was pure womanscent.

When I released her hair she squirmed around to get onto her knees before me.

She grabbed both of my hands and started kissing them.

It was an odd sensation, her mouth was covered with snot from her crying and the kisses were slick.

She was still crying, saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over.

I wasn’t surprised when she started frantically working on my belt buckle and then my zipper.

I was painfully erect.

She was still saying, “I’m sorry” as she took me into her mouth.

Snot and drool made her mouth slick.

It was the best blow job I ever had.

She pulled off as I came, accepting my ejaculation onto her face and into her hair.

She looked up at me, eyes red, nose still running, tear streaks mixed with the thick ropes of semen from her hairline down her left eye and nose, and hanging thickly from her chin.

“Forgive me,” she said, meeting my eyes with her right.

I touched her hair and said, “of course.”

I stood and offered my hand to help her stand.

“But,” I said, smiling for the first time in hours, “you don’t get to wash your face until I say.”

She giggled very softly and said, “let’s go to bed.”

[Author's note: if you would like to see how things develop between Arlene and David, leave a comment.]


About the author

David Witheld

College degrees in teaching, history, and economics.

Veteran, Vietnam ERA but I never, EVER, put myself in the same league as those guys who went over there and did it. I was an Air Force analyst.

Retired now, and write for fun and profit.

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