I Spank My Husband Novels & Stories

Mandy is a beautiful, reserved, timid and socially awkward woman. She is, however, an exceptionally good doctor who would do anything to help her patients. One day during her day off, she was surprised to receive a call from the hospital requesting her to be in the surgery theatre. She was informed that a VIP patient urgently needed her help. Alexander, the VIP patient, was in his worst state after surviving a car accident. Mandy arrived at the hospital at the right moment, and she was able to stabilize his situation. However, he was unconscious for a long time. What she did not expect was when Alex regained his consciousness, he called her his wife. Join Mandy and Alexander for

I had just given birth when the country sent me on a secret mission that kept me undercover for seven years. When it finally ended, I came home on leave. I was eager to see my husband and children, whom I had missed every single day. However, the moment my car stopped at the gate, I saw my two children—my most precious treasures—being shoved down the steps by a woman. They tumbled hard, and they were covered in bruises. The next second, three snarling wolfhounds were released from the house, and they pounced on the children with bared teeth. Fury surged through me, and I charged forward. I got the dogs away with a few swift kicks and punches. Amid the animals’ pitiful howls, my ten-year

My marriage to Bryan wasn’t perfect, but it was never bad enough for me to want him dead. Yet when he was brutally murdered in a hotel room, every finger pointed at me. His family accused me. The world believed them I spent months behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit. My empire crumbled. My only child now sees me as a murderer. I was bullied, broken, and forgotten until Damon stepped back into my life. Damon, my ex-lover, is now fighting to clear my name. He has one goal: to set me free. But he has another theory, one more shocking than the accusation itself, My Husband could be faking his death to make me suffer and start a new life with his mistress . Freedom didn’t make

I died in the year my husband hated me most. Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life. At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile. “Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.” So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over. My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant. All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love. That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration. When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking b

For three years, Evelyn Hart lived as the crippled wife everyone pitied. After countless failed treatments, she secretly undergoes a procedure that gives her something she thought she had lost forever. Hope. Excited to surprise the husband who stood by her side through it all, Evelyn returns home only to find him in bed with her stepsister. But tears are for women with nothing left to lose. So Evelyn keeps her recovery a secret and remains the helpless wife they think they know while they plot to steal her company, her fortune, and her triplet sons. Unfortunately for them, the woman they betrayed can walk again. And she sees their downfall coming long before they do.

Three years of marriage, and I'd become known in our social circle as the ultimate doormat. My husband staying out all night, his silent treatment, bringing his first love home to flaunt in my face—through it all, I'd smile and make him hangover soup, keeping the house spotless. Everyone thought I loved him to the point of madness. Even he believed it. Until the day of the divorce, when he begged me with tears in his eyes not to leave—and then watched "me" collapse rigid to the floor after a power outage, revealing a charging port on the back of my neck. He lost his mind. Meanwhile, the real me was lying on a beach in the Maldives, running my fingers through the hair of a gorgeous twent

My dad’s crush came back, and my mom decided to fake her death. “Jane, I’m the main character of a tragic story. If I don’t fake my death now, I’ll end up miserable. “Go tell your dad that Quiana killed me.” In my past life, I had done exactly as she said. My dad had flown into a rage and destroyed the Sullivan family. After that, my mom returned to the land of the living. I thought our family would finally be whole again. Instead, she clung to Dad and cried. “I gave Jane my contact information. How could she say I was dead?” To punish me, my dad locked me in a cold storage room. My mom shot me a cold look. “That’s what you get for calling that woman pretty.” In the cold storage r

Three months, she was supposed to live with her sister's family for three months but how will she survive living in the same house with him when she harbors those nasty thoughts? How will she survive living in the same space with him when he was the reason she left for Paris three years ago? How will she hide the love and lust she has for her sister's husband?

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know

I had stopped pretending the night Sebastian sailed past our bedroom door for the third time and didn’t look back. I had married him to keep my father’s company intact. Out of my father's desperation. The vows were for the cameras and the board, everything else was ledger entries and quiet compromises. He chased his affairs in public while I held the facade. He saw my composure and called it martyrdom. He never figured out that my calm was armor, not devotion. Then Samantha came home, twenty-three, luminous, curious, the kind of warmth that made places in me I’d kept cordoned off ache. She drifted into my life with easy laughter and careless questions. A sister-in-law, t