Indiscreet | free spanking story

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"Michele, can I see you for a moment please?" he called from the bedroom.

"What do you want, dear, I'm online."

"That's just the problem, you're ALWAYS online," he muttered under his breath.

"What did you say, honey?"

"Just get your ass in here and you'll find out," he shouted.

I sent instant messages to the three friends I was chatting with online...excuse me, hubby calling, brb...and, exasperated, headed to the bedroom.

He was lying back on the bed, ruler in hand, tapping it against his palm.

I took in the scene before me...husband...ruler in hand...glaring at me. My eyes swept along the length of his body...yep, he had a hardon, alright!

"Close the door, Michele," he said.

"I should have done this a lot sooner," he continued, "but it seems the kids are always around. But tonight, they are all out, and it is time to pay the piper."

"What are you talking about, honey?" I asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

"No, the question, Michele, is what are YOU talking about? What the fuck could you possibly be talking about online for oh...five hours a day? The weather? Recipes? The New York Times Bestseller List? I think not.

"You're talking about spanking, aren't you? And writing stories about spanking, and who you want to spank you, and how, and when and where. Correct?"

"Oh honey, if I've told you once, I've told you a million's only FANTASY, make believe, get it?"

"Oh yeah, Michele, I get it. And guess what? Now YOU'RE gonna get it."

I giggled. This could turn out to be fun...

He read my mind. "And this is NOT going to be one of those Michele-directed naughty-girl-over-the-knee spankings...not this time, Michele. This is going to be a pissed-off-husband hauling disobedient wife over his lap for a long, hard, bare-ass whapping-with-a-ruler spanking! And GOD HELP YOU if a blow-by- blow description appears in the newsgroup tomorrow. I am sick and tired of my private life providing titillation for a bunch of spankos we don't even know........."

(Yadda, yadda, yadda, I thought. Why doesn't he just spank me and get it over with already...)

His voice droned on, ruler tapping against his palm.

"The subject matter is bad enough, Michele, but the sheer amount of time you spend online is the real problem...neglecting me, and the kids, and the house..."

From the family room I heard the chiming of instant messages. My head swiveled in their direction, like some cyber Pavlov's dog. (Oh shit, I left three guys hanging online...I wonder if he would mind if I just signed off...)

"Oh honey, could I just run inside and say bye to the three...umm...friends I was talking to?"

"And which three friends might they be, Michele? StrictGuy10121? SpnkYrAss? DropEm908? ILuvPanties?"

"That was four, honey. And anyway, I was talking to a couple of my girlfriends, that's all." (Yeah, I lied!) "If I don't get back in there soon, I'll get signed off!"

"Quel tragedie!" he said sarcastically...and anyway, it was too late. From the family room I heard the disembodied AOL voice say...with such finality..."GOODBYE."

He got up off the bed, sat in the overstuffed armless chair in the corner and tapped the ruler against his knee.

"Remember that infamous National Lampoon cover, Michele? The subject of many of your rapturous conversations with fellow spankos? The tweedy professor, with the naughty bare-bottomed coed across his lap...spanking her with the ruler. I've seen you discussing that picture like it was the goddamn Mona Lisa. Let's see what kind of picture this ruler can paint on your ass tonight."

Now this could be interesting, I thought. I had never been spanked with a ruler before, and the one he was holding looked rather fearsome indeed. It was at least ten years old, solid wood, thick and 18" long.

I approached him demurely. "I know I've been a bad girl, sir, and I deserve whatever punishment you decide is necessary."

"Cut the naughty girl crap, Michele, and get across my lap."

I obeyed...what else was I to do, when faced with such grim determination? He slid the ruler under my skirt, and used it to lift the hem up to my waist. Nice touch, I thought.

I wiggled. Seductively. The effort was most definitely not wasted, as it had a very nice stiffening effect on his already hard cock.

He tugged my pink cotton panties down to my knees and stroked the ruler up and down the backs of my thighs. "Do you know why I am punishing you tonight, Michele?"

"For staying online too much?"

"That's just a part of it, Michele. More than that, it's for being indiscreet. Talking with strangers about things that are nobody's business but ours. I want this to be a spanking that you're NOT going to like, as difficult as that may be for you to believe. I want you to think about it every time you park your sore ass in front of that computer tomorrow, when I'm not home to keep an eye on you."

Amazingly enough, not one word of that impassioned speech lessened my anticipation of this spanking, not one iota! Until, that is, the ruler came down with an impressive crack across my bare backside...

"OWWWWW! " I nearly jumped off his lap, in fact I would have, had he not taken the precaution of wrapping his left arm around my waist. Showing no concern for my surprised discomfort, he continued to bring the sturdy ruler down again and again across my poor tender bottom, which was unaccustomed to such abuse!

"You should see your ass Michele...looks just like one of those pictures you and your online friends e-mail gleefully back and forth all day long," he said (rather meanly, I thought) as he punished me with the traditional instrument of schoolgirl correction. And just like that naughty coed who adorned the National Lampoon cover, I kicked so hard that one of my shoes fell to the floor!

"When is the last time you read a book, Michele? Took the kids to a movie? Baked a goddamn pan of brownies?" Each question was punctuated with a sharp stroke of the ruler to my blazing bottom.


"Well....I...DO," he answered, each word accompanied by the kiss of the ruler.

He kept up a steady rhythm with the ruler, noting with grim satisfaction the interesting pattern of criss-crossing stripes that adorned my bare cheeks and thighs. My impassioned pleas for mercy were met with total unconcern, and the louder I pleaded, the harder the ruler came down. I was desperately squirming all over his lap, red cheeks jiggling, and in response he threw his right leg across the back of my knees, locking my body in place.

He stroked upwards with the ruler now, right in the tender spot where my bottom met my thighs. "OWWW...please stop," I cried. "I'll do whatever you say, I promise, honey...OWWWW...."

He lifted my head off his lap by my hair and looked at my tear-streaked face. "Alright, Michele. I am only going to give you ten more strokes, and then, to redeem yourself, you are going to suck my cock. Think you can manage that?"

"Ten more...?" I wailed.

"Stop complaining, or it will be twenty.."

The first four were delivered sharply to the chubbiest part of my cheeks. I cried and wiggled desperately, thinking to myself...just six more.

The next four came down slowly and painfully...vertically up the length of my backside, two on each cheek. The stinging was almost unbearable, but at least now there were only two remaining.

I tensed myself, wondering where and when the final two strokes would be delivered. He stroked the ruler up and down the backs of my thighs, and my heart sank. I HATED being spanked on the thighs, and he knew that. So of course, that was where the final two spanks of the ruler landed, leaving pink stripes up and down the length of each thigh.

I sobbed submissively across his lap, body limp and thoroughly punished, for the first time. "I'm so sorry, honey," I sniveled. "You are right in everything you said, and I am really going to try...I promise...," and with that, I convulsed in big, hiccuping sobs as my husband gently stroked my bottom and thighs.

I remembered my promise to him though, and gazing lovingly into his eyes, knelt at his feet to open his pants and take his swollen cock into my mouth. It was so comforting to fill my mouth with him, the rhythmic contractions of my lips around him so soothing and steadying to my troubled spirit. It gave me purpose, even in the midst of my contrition and pain, to give him this pleasure. As always, his pleasure became mine, as his cock swelled in my eager mouth.

I slid it out of my mouth momentarily to inspect it...just as I suspected, he was starting to drip. I licked up the little droplets...nothing on earth quite as delicious as those first few drops of cum from the man you love...then eased it back into my mouth, enveloping it in my warmth. He began to words were ever necessary when I sucked him, so perfect was our nonverbal communication. I opened my mouth wider, welcoming this sweet invasion, as his cock rode the length of my tongue, looking for my throat, where it would soon deposit its precious load. I sucked harder and harder as his cock slid in and out of my mouth, and he pushed more quickly in response.

One long, impassioned sigh...and I knew he was ready. Taking his balls in my hand, I began to gently knead them, urging him toward climax. His cock erupted, splashing my throat with his cum, and I swallowed him eagerly, murmuring with satisfaction. I knew how much he loved it when I sucked softly throughout his entire orgasm, so that not one spasm, not one drop, would be neglected.

When he was totally spent, I sat curled at his feet, my head in his lap. He petted my soft black hair, and I kissed his hand, my tears long forgotten.

"I love you, sweetie," I whispered.

The next morning, after he left for work with one final, warning glance, I sat...verrrrry uncomfortably I might the computer. And of course, I wrote this little story. I sat there a long time, reading it over and finger twitching as I pointed the cursor at the little box that said..."New Message." Should I or shouldn't I...what to do....?


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