Guest Post–A Housewife’s Tale

First person accounts are the stock-in-trade of spanking literature. I have tons of them scattered about on my hard drive, and I have no idea when or where I got them. I just troll through my collection from time to time looking for something interesting.This one has the feel of what could have been a true account.

I have no idea who authored this piece or when, so if the author sees it and comes forward, I will give him/her full attribution.

A Housewife’s Tale

Raised in a fundamentalist Baptist household I was familiar with corporal punishment from a very young age. My parents, more so my mother, believed to spare the rod was to spoil the child and the truth be known, I was just one of nine children who were never spoiled. I got my last spanking with a hairbrush on the bare at age 13 from my mother and from that point forward figured I was too old to be spanked. I was party to what some would say a shotgun wedding at 18, divorced at 22, and looking for a good man, a more mature guy who was financially capable of supporting my 4 year old daughter and myself. I first started dating a guy I had dated for a short period in high school and thought he might be the answer. He was two years my senior and also recently divorced. That never took hold but if I hadn’t dated him a couple of times I never would have met his older brother, four years my senior, very mature, never married and financially well set. He had a house, two years left on a mortgage and had recently converted from Catholic to Pentecostal Christian.

My parents were definitely against me getting involved with a Pentecostal for various reasons but even my mother agreed he was much better looking and more responsible than the geeky and spiritually weak bachelors in our church. My father was surprised at the strength of Jake’s faith, his resolve to defy his Catholic family and his knowledge of the bible. While he couldn’t quote chapter and verse there was no denying his understanding and insight and fundamentalist foundation.

Well we got married within a year, the wedding far more lavish than my first, and my daughter served as flower girl. Long before we got married I was aware that Jake believed in spanking, not as discipline but foreplay, which I found somewhere between obscene and demented despite the fact that he did spank me occasionally and the result was … well … in some ways pleasurable and exotic but at the same time I always felt later or the next day it was demeaning, him putting me over his knee as if I was a little girl. Other than this strange kink I never could find any fault with Jake. He handled my daughter better than her real father, teaching her to tie her shoes, write her name, taking time to bake little cakes with her in her Easy Bake Oven and took her to his office where she happily beat at the keys on a typewriter while he attended to business.

The first three months of our marriage were great, then it began to unravel mostly because I now had the chance to do things I never did before I met Jake. I had money, charge cards, and a car he bought for me. I was out shopping during the day, partying with old friends at night and took full, I must admit unfair advantage of Jake’s big heart. It also cost me dearly. I missed my daughter’s first day of kindergarten because I wasn’t home yet when school started at noon. In fact I missed the first two weeks of her introduction to education and by the time I showed up and tried to assert my maternal authority I learned quite a few things had changed. First my daughter refused to wear pony tails or braids and Jake just brushed her hair straight and sometimes added a single ribbon. She ate breakfast every morning without complaint, though I had to admit, scrambled eggs, French toast or pancakes were more to her liking than cold cereal. She sat up late nights with Jake, sharing his chair watching movies on cable. I was mortified to find that in two short weeks my own daughter had become more attached to Jake than me and not only did she respect him. she doted on his every word.

Things got worse. I refused to be reined in and one night I came home about four in the morning. Thankfully my daughter was asleep but I was angry because Jake was waiting up for me and saw that I hadn’t been dropped off by a girlfriend but a guy. We were at the five and a half month mark of our marriage and hadn’t had sex in more than two, mostly because I was always absent. I accused Jake of spying on me, saying he had no right and his response was quite simple, then why come home at all and to be dropped off by a man besides. I didn’t care. He was wrong. I was right. I was old enough to do as I pleased. Jake quickly reminded me I was not living with my parents and I had responsibility to a four and half year old daughter who I had been neglecting for sometime. How dare he! But I knew he was right. I had been using Jake as a free babysitter, ignoring the fact she was more my responsibility than his, and her father who had weekly visitation rights hadn’t seen her in more than two months either. Jake said something about calling a lawyer and getting custody from two wayward parents. I hit him. Big mistake. Physically I’m anything but petite, five seven, 140 pounds and I pack it well, full C cup, which never interested Jake all that much and a full round but firm bottom which did. Jake is five ten and 185 pounds of muscle, a former athlete with coordination, reflexes and strong hands and forearms. When he grabbed my wrist the second time I tried to hit him he caught it easily and with so much force I was instantly terrified. My first husband had hit me and I hit back, knocking him down. He tried to strangle me once and I swear I almost killed him. Confronting Jake was entirely different. As he picked me up as easily as he might my daughters Cabbage Patch kid doll and carried me to the bedroom all sorts of thoughts ran through my head. He’d kill me. Maybe rape. Something awful to be sure. When he sat on the corner of the bed and flopped me over his knee I knew. Spank me!

I protested wildly to no avail. His grip was too strong and with both hands and my toes on the floor, my skirt covered flanks raised in sacrifice I was in a terrible position to fight back. Then my skirt went up and when his fingers deftly found the elastic band of my panties I screamed NO! in real terror. I didn’t want to find out how much anger and frustration had built up in him over the past three months and I knew I was about to find out. I was like a little girl about to have her bottom warmed by her disappointed father. Only problem, I knew Jake relished spanking where I don’t think my father did. I was also quite aware that this spanking was not going to be like any previous, all three in number, made of moderate, considerate slaps which had turned my pale white cheeks a light pink.

My panties came down and I gasped. I felt helpless, terrified, mortified and began praying for a miracle. My panties went down past my knees, slipping to my ankles and the cool air caressed my bare butt. Jake didn’t wait to explain or anything. The first smack landed on one bare cheek and while I gasped for air his hand landed on the other with equal force. These smacks were nothing like anything I had previously experienced from Jake. The fire was immediate and it didn’t stop. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Like an echo in my head as his hand just kept landing without respite. There were no warm caresses in between, just Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. I was finally conscious of my breathing which must have stopped for the first twelve or so and as felt tears welled up in my eyes and the burning sensation spread I wondered how long, how many more. I don’t think my mother ever gave me more than forty and at most twenty with the brush at any one time. My dad, never more than ten, usually one or two good swats and that would be the end of that. My father terrified me but I also knew he loved me. I was wondering if Jake did. If the only reason he married me was for moments like this when he could find any excuse to spank my full round ass to his hearts content and as the spanking went on I was wondering what his heart’s content might be.

Fifty, sixty, seventy … 100! and he just kept going revealing no signs of letting, easing up or stopping. My ass was shaking violently from the violent force as the flat of his whole hand made hard solid contact each and every time and that Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. echoed through the room, off the walls, through my head and off my now smarting ass. I was begging for him to stop and my voice was hoarse. I don’t think he could hear me over the repeating sound of his hand against my raw naked flesh. It was like a machine gun, non stop and unrelenting. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. I tried at some point to block the blows but with ease Jake grabbed my wrist and pinned it behind me and just kept on spanking without missing a beat. The spanking must have lasted four of five minutes and in that span I would guess Jake landed at least 300 forceful blows to my bare shaking flesh, perhaps more. He let me up and asked a question which I didn’t hear, but stormed off to the bathroom where I rubbed my aching flesh as it throbbed and felt like two balloons swelling. I wiped the tears from my eyes. I didn’t want him to know I had been crying. I felt ashamed like a little girl and angry because he could make me feel that way. I was also very conscious of the fact that I was wet and ready for sex, but I would never tell him that. I took off my clothes and still my ass was throbbing. I stepped out of the bathroom and in front of the full length mirror to view the damage. I was aghast! My ass was as red as ripe tomatoes! The dark red hue spread from the crease at the top of my thighs almost to the top of the cleft between. I hadn’t realized Jake was watching me. He asked me if I had learned anything. My response was defiant. I called him a sick bastard and again told him he had no right. Wrong answer and I knew the second the words left my lips.

I was now naked and again at his mercy as he pulled me and then pushed me onto the bed, face down, raw red flesh up and exposed. I couldn’t believe it! He spanked me even harder, driving my pelvis into the mattress with every smack. Within a minute or so my ass went numb. I could hear the Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. and feel the impact as his hand took turns flattening out one cheek then the other, but pain … I knew it hurt but couldn’t really feel it but I knew my ass felt bigger and bigger, the throbbing continued as did the spanking for another three minutes.

Then he took me from behind, so easily. Never was penetration that easy or so quick. I was mortified I could be so ready and willing after he had abused me, treated me like a little girl, and the next morning I was equally ashamed because I came so quickly and three times in a couple of minutes.
Unfortunately that spanking, the worst I had ever endured in my life did nothing to curb my free fall from grace and lead to a repeat performance and then another, but that will have to wait until next time.

   
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One response to “Guest Post–A Housewife’s Tale

  1. Wow. Very nice. That was my bedtime story tonight. Thank you!

    Like

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