Not the Normal Routine

(***, M/F, Intense, semi-consensual strapping, sex)

After a car wreck, a wife awaits her husband's punishment. (Approximately 1,672 words. Originally published 2020-05.)

Eileen couldn't figure out why she was so worried. What was the big deal? She got the belt two or three times a month. This wasn't any different. Sure, Michael had sounded extra-cross on the phone, but it wasn't like she'd wrecked the car on purpose. It was an accident, plain and simple.

Yet Eileen had an uncomfortable feeling in her belly that her husband wouldn't see it that way. His perspective rarely matched hers. Like he'd say she should have been more careful, that she should have anticipated that someone would be coming the wrong way on a one way street!

She took off her dress and hung it on a hook by the door. It seemed pointless when she'd be putting it back on in an hour, but there was no sense getting him more mad for being sloppy.

Her underthings she put in the hamper. Her panties were soaked. She couldn't help it. Ever since the crash and the knowledge that Michael would be leathering her she'd been as randy as a ripe peach. It was always that way. She hated the spanking, but the idea of being whipped turned her on like nothing else.

Eileen checked the clock and saw it was nearly five. Michael had said he would leave work early, so he could be here any minute. There wouldn't be time, would there?

She was itching for it, but decided it wouldn't be wise. When she got started, she was deaf and blind, and she probably wouldn't hear him come in and if he caught her -- then she'd really get the strap.

The strap!

Her heart beating wildly, she rushed naked to the closet to get it. It was two feet long, four inches wide, thick, and a weird mix of flexible and stiff. The leather was old, but she oiled it regularly. It worked just fine as far as she was concerned. Too good, in fact!

She laid it on the foot of the bed, listening for a car or door slam. Nothing. She'd made it. If the strap wasn't out when he came in, it was ten extra. She didn't want that.

How many would she get? That was tough to say. A "routine" thrashing was 30-50 strokes. Smashing the car was certainly not routine, but it really hadn't been her fault. Maybe she had been a little distracted. Her favorite song had been playing on the radio and she'd been jamming, singing along. But it was the grocery store parking lot! She'd only been going two miles an hour. Surely that wasn't irresponsible!

Okay, so maybe a few extra just because this was a serious matter. Maybe ten more? Twenty? Seventy strokes was a lot. Not a 100, like when she'd allowed the insurance to lapse, but definitely a serious punishment. Appropriate, in this case. She hoped.

She climbed on the bed as she pondered this, crawling on her knees until she reached the headboard. There she posed with her thighs wide, her back straight, and her hands on her head, elbows out. It felt ridiculous, but that was part of the punishment. The first thing Michael would see when he opened the bedroom door was the belt on the end of the bed and his nude wife's bare ass and back obediently posed for him. If she wasn't in position, she'd get it worse.

Then she heard it. The faint thump of a door closing. Oh shit! He's home! she thought, her heart jumping into gear and racing. She waited, all tense and shivery. It seemed to take him forever to get inside and come upstairs. He was probably hanging up his coat in the hall closet and putting his phone on the charger. Michael was a man of routine.

Then there was a sound outside the door. Footfall. Soft on carpet. A shiver went down Eileen's bare back. It made her hips twitch and her fat ass shake. She held her breath.

She didn't actually see the shadow, probably because there wasn't one, but she felt it: Michael dominating the doorway, staring at her.

"Hello, honey," she said, hoping her voice didn't crack and sound calm and not terrified.

"Eileen! What are-- Are you okay?"

The man rushed over to the side of the bed and grabbed her in his arms. Eileen was startled, her nakedness pressing against his dark suit and looking even more pale. She wasn't sure what to make of this reaction. Usually he ordered her to lie down over the pillows with her ass up and started whipping her. Hugging was not part of the routine.

"I'm fine, dear. A little nervous, but--"

"You weren't hurt in the crash?"

"No, no, it was nothing. Didn't even set off the airbag, though I'm not sure why. Crumpled the front left corner."

"I'm so glad, Eileen. That could have been serious. What that silly bitch was doing driving the wrong way I have no idea, but if there was justice in the world her husband will be giving her a long and thorough leathering tonight! Maybe every night for a week!"

Eileen laughed. She felt like crying in relief. "So you don't think it was my fault?"

"What? Honey, how could it be your fault?"

"I don't know. You sounded furious on the phone and I--"

"I am furious. At that bitch in the other car!"

"Oh. Thank God. I thought you'd blame me somehow and whip me extra. I know I deserve a little, but smashing the car--"

Michael moved away, looking at the belt and her nakedness. "Eileen, did you really think I was going to strap you for this? It was the other woman's fault! You did nothing wrong."

"Wait, so I'm not getting whipped at all?" Eileen couldn't believe it. Her heart soared with relief... and the sank with a strange disappointment.

Michael laughed. "Of course not, honey. You couldn't have known that idiot would be coming at you the wrong way."

"But... but I should have been more careful," said Eileen.

"Honey, relax. It's okay. I'm just glad you weren't hurt. That's all that matters."

"But the car's all smashed!"

"I've already talked to the insurance company. It was clearly the other driver's fault, so hers will be footing the bill. It won't cost us a dime. Our rates won't go up, either, and they'll be giving us a free rental until the car's fixed."

"Really? So... no... no belting at all? Not even--" She didn't finish the words, because her husband had bent down and was kissing her naked bottom. It felt wonderful and sexy, and she was already so turned on...

"Michael," she said softly. "I was rocking out to a song on the radio."

"So?"

"So maybe I wasn't paying attention. I think you should... just a few, you know."

He pulled back, his eyebrows raised. "You want me to strap you?"

"Well, no, of course not! But, I mean, maybe I deserve... a little."

"Ten?"

Eileen squirmed. After preparing herself for 70, ten was anticlimactic. She shook her head.

"Twenty? Thirty?"

"Yes, that's fair, don't you think?"

"I don't think you deserve any, but it's your ass. If this is supposed to be punishment, though, maybe we should make it 40."

"Yes sir," Eileen said, snakes squirming down her spine. Just ten with that strap was serious business. The idea of 40 had turned on the spigot of her sex.

She wiggled down the bed, pushing the pillows down under her, and stretched out, ass high. She had a big fleshy bottom that didn't even need the upthrust of the cushions, but it was much more shameful this way.

Michael stepped back and the strap was in his hand. He brought it down with a searing snap across her naked cheeks and she bellowed in agony and buried her face in the bedsheet. Across her butt there bloomed a rectangular blotch. Tingles of furious sting shot through her. Eileen started to weep and it was just the first stroke!

There was another deadly thwack! and the pain spread, biting heat filling the woman. She grunted and groaned, wiggling urgently, as the belt rose and fell. By ten she was sobbing, her ass vigorously marked with red streaks. The second set was worse, with her screaming and writhing as though being mortally wounded.

But Michael worked fast. The blows were hard and came quickly, so fast Eileen didn't have time to resist or feel the true dread of the suffering. Then he slowed for the last set, taking his time, making sure she felt each devastating blow.

He stopped before he even got to 30, tossing the strap aside and hopping onto the bed to mount his wife. She hadn't noticed, but the reason he'd gone slower for the last few was that he'd been busy undressing. His suit jacket was on the floor, his shirt ripped off, his shoes discarded like trash. After each garment was tossed aside he'd given her another stroke and then worked on the next item.

He was down to his socks when he couldn't wait any longer. He just had to have her. She was so gorgeous and looked so sexy when her big ass was all blotchy with scarlet and crimson. This was only a half-leathering, really, but she'd felt it and her butt was a nice hot-pink.

He clamped on it with both hands, rolling her over and pressing his strong body against hers. She moaned as their combined weight pressed against his hands squeezing her sizzling butt. Then he was inside her, the joy so extreme she forgot everything.

It might have lasted a second or ten minutes. Eileen had no idea except that she was exhausted. She lay back sighing, Michael breathing hard beside her.

"Do we get to pick the rental?" she asked.

"I doubt it, but we can always ask."

"I've always wanted to drive a convertible," she said.

The End