“You do not want to argue with me right now, buster!”

He was crossing from the bathroom into the spare bedroom where he had taken up residence after the fight yesterday. They tried to follow the “don’t go to bed angry” maxim that nobody he knew could follow either, but when it didn’t work sometime staying out of each other’s way was the best plan. At least until time calmed the waters.

Sharon’s voice barked hoarsely at him from the bedroom. “Don’t even think about going in there and getting dressed.” He stopped short, surprised. He didn’t even know she was up here. “Get in here-and take that stupid towel off!” He had put a towel around his waist leaving the bathroom but quickly peeled it off and hung it over the doorknob.

His wife was in their bedroom dressed in jeans and a black concert T-shirt looking positively girlish but he knew by the look on her face she wasn’t feeling girlish. Her eyes were still slightly puffy from crying and her forehead was crumped with angry furrows. He figured that she had been up most of the night going over every shitty thing he had said under the influence of a half of bottle of Rye and a miserable business trip that had gone wrong in every way.

He thought she had pulled him in here to continue the argument. To go through a series of “What did you mean by this? What did you mean when you said that?” kind of questions and it was going to feel weird doing that stark naked. He came up short though when he glanced at the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and saw some of his least favorite things…thick wooden bath brush that had never made it into the shower and two plastic rods that she had taken off of the blinds in the room. His heart flipped a little knowing she had two because she expected to break one. They didn’t break easily.

“Get your ass over the bed”, she ordered.

“Honey…Sharon-wait a minute…”

She covered the distance to him in three quick strides but was in his face fast enough for him to feel she leaped there-or materialized in front of him. Her dark hair was tied in a tight pony tail and, in her bare feet, she barely came up to his shoulder. “You do not want to argue with me right now, buster”, she seethed, her finger in his face. No he didn’t.

He crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees feeling exposed with Sharon behind him. He was trying to remember the last time she had flat-out paddled him that wasn’t foreplay or birthday related. There had been a few…but not recently.

“Lay flat-this way”, she indicated north-south; he buried his head in the pillows. “Move over here-so I can stand.” He slid over feeling a slight tingle where the bed spread rubbed his dick.

“Sharon”, he looked over his shoulder toward her-but couldn’t see her. She was at the cedar chest, arming herself.

“I’m giving you one hundred.”

He rolled his ass away from her onto his side feeling very naked as his limpness just hung there.  “A hundred? Jesus Sherri…that’s a lot. Look-I’ll take a punishment. I will…but that’s…”

She reached out and grabbed his ear. “I’m not asking for permission to beat your ass. I’m telling you what you are getting.” She yanked his head toward her, forcing him back onto his belly.

“What if I don’t let you?” he said quietly, on shaky ground. “I can just say no and just get up now.” Staring at the swirls on the spread he listened to the silence in the room. He knew as soon as he said it, that it was the wrong thing at the wrong time. That was apparenly a pattern this weekend. He held his breath hoping that would stop him from saying anything else.”

“Then, my dear husband, you can go to The Keys next week by yourself.”

“Oh come on! It’s been booked for months! It’s too late to cancel.”

“You don’t have to cancel, go yourself. Take someone else…I don’t care.”

“You love The Keys”, he almost whined. “It’s as much your trip as mine.”

“Yes, I love The Keys, and would love the trip. Just not with you.”

“That’s great to hear!” he mumbled.

She reached high into the air and smacked him hard on the ass with her hand.

“Ouch!” he was surprised by the smack and it stung.

“Why would you want to go with me after all you said yesterday? Huh? You weren’t taking to me yesterday like to wanted to take any kind of trip.” He said nothing. “Quiet now, huh? Just as well, because I’m fucking done talking. You want to leave now, leave. And go to the Keys yourself next week. Or take what you deserve, then we’ll talk.”

“Jesus, alright!” he said miserably reflexively squeezing his cheeks together.

“Fine. One hundred. And I’m done talking like I said. Anything you say-any word that isn’t a cry of pain or the answer to a direct question will add five more. Got it?”

“Yes”, he mumbled tensely into the pillow. He’d never gotten this many swats before-certainly never as a punishment. Maybe in the course of a slap and tickle evening when you counted all the hand smacks and pats, but that was nothing like what was coming. He flashed back to 24 swats she had given him with a paddle that she broke last year. He would have done anything to stop that onslaught. He had to focus-to work through this.

He felt her firm hand on the small of his back-steadying the target. Felt her moving, knew she was reaching up with the paddle, then SWAT! It landed with full force on his right cheek.

“Uggg!” was all he could say as he bit down on the pillow. He thought there might be some warm-ups but apparently-SWAT!-another on the same spot-not! He grabbed a pillow with both hands and buried his face into it-alternately biting and yelping. He could have tried to tough it out through a couple of swats but false bravado was useless here. Maybe if he let her know how much it hurt-SWAT! “OWWW!”-she’d cut him a break.

She kept her left hand hard on his back feeling him rise and buck with each swat she gave him. She liked to feel she was pushing him back down when he wanted up. That she was directing him-controlling him and clearly, punishing him. “Quit tensing”, she ordered. “I want it soft.”

“I’m trying…I’ll try” he gasped through gritted teeth spreading his arms to grasp the corners of the mattress.  She watched his lats and shoulders tighten as the cheeks of his bottom relaxed.  A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his back.

She shortened her stroke slightly and went back to work delivering two quick smacks to the middle of his ass covering equal slices of both cheeks. He howled and she swung again and again. His butt had blown past pink to red and was starting to glow an angry brick color. He dug into the bed with his right foot pushing his knee out as if to climb away. She took advantage of the spot that he exposed at the bottom of his bottom; right at the bottom of his cheek where he was so far remarkably unmarked. She swatted it hard and he bucked throwing his leg back where it was.

She patted his ass with the paddle. “Take a break”, she said. “That’s fifty-you’re halfway home.”

“Can I rub?” he asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

He reached back and rubbed his cheeks gently. The skin felt paper thin and he felt ridiculous. Sharon liked to rub him with oil after a spanking-even relatively gentle maintenance spankings. It was part of the ritual that made spankings such a welcome diversion in the house. He could really use some of the aloe that she used right now, but she obviously wasn’t in the soothing mood.

“Alright”, she said from behind him. “Let’s get on with it.”

He brought his hands back and went back to hugging the pillow. She tapped his tortured flesh with a rod. “I want you to lift now-stick it back here.” He pushed his hips up, raising his bottom toward her. There were two taps with the rod then the hot pain exploded on his right cheek like splashing lava. He bucked forward almost bashing into the headboard as she struck with another. And again. He yelled and tried to roll but she pushed him roughly back into position.

The next burning stroke bit deeply into the soft flesh at the top of his thigh and he screamed again.

“Sharon!…Wait. Please honey-PLEASE….OWWW!” he cried out as the rod bit deeply again in the middle of his left cheek. She paused to take in the effect of the lattice work of angry raising welts.

“That’s five words as I count them…Are you asking for 25 extra?”

“Oh God no! Please not. You don’t understand-I can’t take it. Jesus, honey-I’ll do anything”.

She almost smiled at the quaver that she heard in his voice. He wouldn’t look back and she was speaking to the back of his head with the tip of the rod tickling his burning ass ready to resume its torture. “Anything?”

He spoke quickly, seeing hope. “You name it. Wherever you want to go-whatever you want to do. Whatever you want to do to me. Anything-just name it.”

“You don’t get it.”

“What, tell me what I don’t get.”

She raised the rod grimly and brought it down with a slash.

“OWWW!, Please, Sharon. What don’t I get? What do you want?”

“How about an apology?”

“An apology?”

“Is that so foreign? Is that so ridiculous? The things you said yesterday were beyond hurtful to me. Beyond anything you’re feeling now.”

“I know…I was stupid. I was drunk..”

“And still no apology.” She raised the rod again.

“NO! DON’T. I’M SORRY. I’m sorry for what I said. I was sorry the moment I said it…I wish I never said it. I deserve this…I know…I know I do. I’m taking it…it’s just so bad….honey…it-hurts-so-bad…”

Her heart opened a little. She had worked out her anger about 30 swats ago-the rest of this had been sending the message. As he lay there, literally and physically beaten, she thought the message had been received. He had never begged for a punishment to end, but then, looking at his bottom she knew he had never been punished like this. Damn shame guys had such a tough time crying-that would complete the picture. She watched his back rising and falling as he controlled his breathing.

“Well, finally, that is good to hear. You made me work for it, but it’s good to hear. But like my mother said, an apology is good, but it’s an acknowledgment that you did something wrong. And we still have some unfinished business here.”

“Awww, Sharon….”

“Twenty five more.” He turned his head to face the other wall then back to the middle burying his face in the damp pillow. “And I expect you to take them-so stick up your bum now. I want your pert little bum reaching out to me…”

He did as he was told and opened his burning bottom to his wife for more punishment. He held his breath and clamped his eyelids together. Sharon patted his butt with the rod and lifted it about two inches and brought it down lightly, careful to avoid the purple tracks already there. Then another, lightly across the top of his thighs.

He breathed and relaxed but was careful to keep his ass offered back to his wife who was now criss-crossing his bottom with light caresses. He began to moan for affect and move his hips back and forth with the soft strokes. As he did, his shaft began to thicken.

“That’s 100, big boy. You’re done…”

He collapsed onto the bed as she disappeared from beside him for a moment, returning with a tube of aloe. He felt the cool drops on his backside and continued to moan lightly as she rubbed it in all over letting her fingers slide between his cheeks and low. He continued to moan lightly and even whimper as he undulated back and forth into her finally soothing touch.

She kissed his hot bottom. “You can be such a pain in the ass”, she said.

His hard on raged against the chenille.

2 responses to ““You do not want to argue with me right now, buster!”

  1. Nice. If I may critique, personally I would have liked him to be coerced into submission rather than going quite so willingly, perhaps with a threatened sanction, but we don’t know their backstory. Nevertheless a fine piece for the ‘switchers’

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