Husband Gets Spanked Novels & Stories

"Oh no, and ruin your mom's happy marriage?" Lila reluctantly raised her arms. "Good girl," Ryan mocked, and delivered a sharp spank to her behind. Lila gasped, stifling a cry. "That's for entering my room without knocking." Another spank landed. "And this is for defying me." A harder spank followed. "And this is for trying to slap me." Another, even stronger. "And this… is for hitting my manhood." He squeezed her buttock hard, making her yelp in pain and anger.

“You wouldn’t put me down! You’ve hit me plenty of times—so what if I hit you twice?” His eyes darkened, sharp with a dangerously calm fury. He gripped my jaw, his fingers rough but not painful. “Spanking,” he said slowly, mockery dripping from every syllable, “is a form of sexual suggestion. Is this how you plan to handle our divorce?” My breath caught. Sexual? My cheeks flamed. “That’s ridiculous!” I protested. “You started it! You were spanking me for years—since I was fifteen! How is it discipline when you do it, but something else when I do?”

she pleaded but he wasn’t buying it. “You deserve it, if you don’t come to me in three seconds, I will double the spank,” he threatened her and it worked. Encha who knew that Keaton never jokes when it comes to his punishment quickly offered herself to the man. “Strip!” he commanded and she discarded her pajama top and bottom in less than two minutes leaving her in just her panties. Keaton smiled as he looked at his wife’s small body. The body was covered with his marks, as he loves to renew them whenever they try to fade away. Encha was put on his lap with her butt facing him.

He grabs my hips and pulls my ass up in the air and slams back into me from behind without warning. The angle is devastating. His cock hitting a different spot, deeper, and sharper. He spanks me, and the crack rings in the air. The sting blooms and races to my clit. "Yes!" I moan. "Again. Harder!" "You like being spanked in your home," he says, slapping my ass again. "While your husband is on a business trip?" "I love it," I cry out pathetically. "I love every second of it. Spank me again, Tyler."

He stared at me for a long moment, sipping his whiskey. “Turn around. Bend over the desk.” I obeyed, spreading my legs and arching my back, presenting my ass and still-slightly-swollen pussy to him. Marcus walked over slowly. His hand caressed my ass cheek before he delivered a sharp, stinging spank. “You went home to your husband last night with my cum inside you, didn’t you?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Yes, sir,” I whispered. He spanked me again, harder. “Did you fuck him?”

Bill spun her away from him, so she'd stop trying to figure him out and bent her over the desk. He was in charge. Manipulating her body to do his bidding. So why did he feel naked in front of a crowd with his dick in his hand? “My fucking wife. Mine," he growled through gritted teeth, holding onto his sanity by a thread. He kicked her feet wide. His palm cracked across her ass, once, twice, three times, turning the skin hot and pink. Images of Dean touching her taunted him. The spanking continued. "Stop being such a fucking asshole," she grunted, but his stinging touch felt like her oxygen.

This man cannot be saying this, he is literally trying to gaslight me into thinking that how good he is, but I am the one who is not appreciating his efforts "And spanking isn't even that big of a deal." He shrugged. Like it isn't a big deal to force your wife to strip down her pants in front of so many men twice her age and turn her bare bottom deep red and purple. Like it's not a big deal to humiliate your wife in front of the whole family and secretly record her humiliation. It infuriates me that he thinks it's not a big deal. Then what is a big deal? Killing your wife? Finally ending her life! Because I sure am ready to die.

He hits firmly and precisely, without using full force, making the skin redden and sting. "Tell me what you did wrong," he asks in an authoritative voice. He spanks me again. I groan. "I should have told you what was going on." "Why should you tell me?" he asks. Another spank. "Because you're my husband," I answer between moans. "And we have no secrets." "Good," he says. Only then he stops spanking me. His hand slips between my buttocks. His fingers slip between my legs and soon discover my wetness.

“You’re not alone. You never were. But if you keep pretending, you’ll drown before anyone can reach you.” Celina swallowed hard. For the first time in weeks, she felt something crack. “No, I did,” her father cut in, stepping forward. His voice was harder, older, filled with barely contained anger. “We heard from your cousin. Word’s spreading. This man you married—he has another wife? Another life?” Celina finally turned to face them, her eyes red but defiant. “I didn’t know.” “That’s not the point!” her father snapped, the sharp crack of his palm hitting the dining table reverberating through the room like a gunshot. The plates rattled, and so did Celina’s resolve.

I thought, perplexed, Where does he come up with these things at a time like this? "I think it’s a good option," he said, sounding thoughtful. "If you’re angry with me, that same night, you have to spank me right away, that way you release your anger and I can relax..." he said nonchalantly, shrugging. "Ha, ha, ha," I burst out laughing. I couldn’t keep up with my husband’s fantasies. "And what happens if it’s you who’s angry?" "We can try it too," he raised an eyebrow mischievously. "We don’t know if you might end up liking the spanking as well, and I promise to be very careful."