Naughty Husband Gets The Belt!

I mentioned in my last blog post, Raped by the Sister! which featured a roleplay between by husband and I, something that turned out to be remarkably prescient a week later. I wrote, "it is true that our most common "roleplay" is Strict Alpha Wife on top of submissive beta husband (and yes, sometimes even I wonder how much it's a role and how much it's r/l!)". Well, so it came to pass that we "roleplayed" me whipping his ass after he screwed up for real!

It happened last Sunday afternoon. It was the first really spring-like day in Toronto. Sunny and 15C (~60F). My husband and I are reasonably avid bicyclers and I had been itching to get out on the road.

Especially so since we have a cycling vacation in the summer, and I need to train for it. He does not need to, as he always seems to be faster than me with less effort, but I do need to train despite me being in better overall shape than he.

So, Sunday early afternoon I'm with my husband and say, "Hey! Let's get the bikes out!"

He looks a bit reticent and says, "oh, gee, I don't think they're ready."

"So get them ready," I say. I mean, what's the big deal, right?

"Well," he says, "the tire on your bike is flat and the valve is broken and we don't have a spare inner tube, so I'd need to go out and get that, and then change it, and check out the bikes. It'll take a few hours."

What?!? That valve was broken at the end of last season. He said he would fix it over the winter. And it's not even the normal kind of valve that, like, NEVER BREAKS! No, it's some skinny little fancy valve that breaks! This isn't the first time either. And "a few" hours is too long. We have Sunday dinner later and that would not leave enough time.

I look at him icily and say, "you said you would fix that over the winter."

"Yeah, sorry, slipped my mind..."

Pathetic.

"Take your belt off. Give it to me," I order him.

"Oh honey, no, come on!" he says, knowing what's coming: a good ass whipping! But he's well trained and starts removing his belt regardless and hands it to me.

"Drop 'em and bend over the back of that couch," I say.

david looks pained, but unfastens his pants, drops them to his ankles, and bends over the back of the sofa, with his elbows down on the seat and his tip-toes on the floor. He left his underwear up. I go up to him and yank his underpants down to his knees. His legs are fairly close together because of the bunched pants at his ankles. I play the belt over his ass without striking him yet.

I double up the belt and I snap it against itself.

"Why are getting this?" I ask him.

"Because I screwed up?" he answers.

"Because you screwed up," I confirm.

Then I begin his punishment. I allow some of my genuine anger to channel into my right arm as I deliver the first of many resounding strikes to his bare bottom with his own thick leather belt. I could have been out biking!

I deliver the strokes right handed, standing to his left. I am always careful to aim the tip of the belt where I want it to land, so I don't get wrap-around to his flanks, and so that I can target his near cheek as much as the far one. I really turn my body into each stroke and let my arm fully rotate and extend, adding a whip with my wrist at the end (I'm a tennis player, and I use a stroke similar to that, but with extra wrist action). So, in short, I know how to serve up a memorable belt whipping. Each stroke sounded like a gunshot.

Already in the first part of his whipping I had him in some measure of distress.  The sounds of heavy and well-placed belt strikes is unmistakable. Equally unmistakable are the grunts, cries, and fanny wrigglings of a husband in the process of being very well-tanned with such a leather belt. I counted in my head approximately 50 strokes, all concentrated around his butt cheeks and high upper thighs. I took my time between strokes. Maybe about one every five seconds or so. When belabouring his left cheek I allowed a bit of wrap around into his left ass crack and left inner thigh. After these 50 he was already dark and dusky red with some marks indicative of future bruising coming up in places.

I then re-positioned myself to be directly behind him. I crouched a bit low, and I let loose the doubled-up belt directly down his ass crack, also angling a bit left and bit right to get to the insides. I gave him about 20 of these. During these is when he got a bit frantic, and started begging for it to be over, and begging "not there! not there!" over and over again. Oh yes! Right there! He would not escape some bruising where his cheeks came together.

I then returned to his left side to finish up his strapping with another 50. I think he might have been numbing up by now, so I had to go even harder to get the reaction I wanted. Got lots and lots of apologies and promises to do better. By the time I was done, he knew he had been punished, for real. There's a little mewling sound he makes even after I've stopped. "myeah, myeah, myeah, ..."

Not quite this bad, but close!

"Stand up," I told him, "and I better not see an erection!"

He stood painfully and turned towards me. He spontaneously put his own hands on top of his head without my even asking him to. He was soft like a tiny wet noodle. Good!

"Did you learn your lesson?" I asked him patiently.

"Yes Ma'am!" he practically yelled out.

"Do we need another session with the belt to remind you?" I asked.

"No Ma'am! Please Ma'am! No!" So frantic.

"In that case you better get those bikes ready to go for next weekend. No excuses!"

"Yes Ma'am. No excuses!!!"

For some reason I believed him.

I know some of you will think that I am being overly cruel with my husband for a slight affair. It is actually he who craves the beatings he gets, and I accommodate. It is cathartic for him to be beaten like this for a true misdeed. In this case, it is most true that you need to be cruel to be kind!