Spanked By My Husband Novels & Stories

“You’re serious.” “Completely.” Smack, smack, smack. “You really think I’m going to let you…hit me?” “Not hit you. Spank you. Big difference. Losing your temper and throwing your boot at me proved you need to learn there are consequences for acting out against me.” Smack, smack, smack. “No. Way. You are fucking delusional.” The continual smack, smack, smack was wearing on her nerves. “I haven’t been spanked since I was about six years old.”

Erin Greer values a good joke more than boundaries. She always says that we have to keep things fun if we want our relationship to last. So she and her childhood friend, Mark Levine, have a standing arrangement. They will orchestrate a surprise every year on our wedding anniversary—with all their friends playing along—just to see if I'll fall for it. Three years ago, she told Mark in front of me that she regretted marrying me. When I turned to leave, she laughed and pulled me back, saying I was too easily teased. Two years ago, she had Mark put divorce papers beside my pillow. After I signed them with a trembling hand, she laughed and said it was just a prank. Last year, she and Mark hel

Her body responded in a way I never expected. The last time I had a girl almost cumming from being spanked was when I was in college, part of a Dom for sluts society. I looked down now and realized I was rock hard, my cock straining painfully against my pants. I hadn’t even noticed it happening during the spanking. This was wrong. She was my stepdaughter, barely eighteen, and I was supposed to be the one in control. “Get it together,” I muttered to myself. I stood up and paced the room, trying to shake the image of her short skirt bunched up, her ass pink from my hand. I couldn’t let this happen again.

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."

I cupped her cheek in one hand and finally gave in to the urge to wrap her long hair around my other, tilting her head back for a kiss. “Are you going to behave?” I said some moments later. “No fucking way.” At that response, I threw her over my shoulder and carried her to the bed. She squealed in surprise, and then when I tossed her onto the bed and pulled her nightgown up to spank her, she squealed again. “You’re in a mood!” She squeaked-giggled when I spanked the other cheek. “I’m showing my wife that she needs to submit to her husband.”

“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?”

Not brutal, but hurting and pleasing. I yelp, another moan. Another smack. “This is for running away.” I twist my head to glare at him. “I ran because you’re a monster.” Then another Smack. “Monster? I’m your husband now. Act like it.” “Go to hell.” I say. He spanks again, harder, then soothes with a rub. He’s in between my widely opened legs and I feel him position himself, ready. “Fuck you,” I say, the bond pulling me unde as I crave this feeling.

“This married pussy is so much tighter than I imagined. Your husband has no idea how to fuck you properly, does he?” He started pounding me hard — deep, powerful strokes that made my tits bounce and my moans turn into broken cries. Every thrust slammed against my cervix. The wet, filthy sound of his heavy balls slapping my soaked pussy filled the room. “Tell me,” he growled, spanking my ass hard. “Tell me how much better my cock feels than your husband’s.” “So much better,” I sobbed with pleasure. “Your cock is ruining me— I can’t go back to him after this—”

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.

He yelled, showing dislike. He chortled then looked at his face. “Of course you don't need a wife but Miguel needs a mother. Someone that will take care of him not some stupid babysitter. I don't care about your opinion, my decision is final. We're going over to their place tomorrow and you have behaved yourself, Richard.” Bryant announced hostilely. “And one more thing, she's kind of your woman. After the marriage I'm pretty sure you'll be serious with your life and stop fucking around.” He pivoted to the stairs, he ascended the stairs heading back to his room.