Fiction: Caught Red-Handed (FF/M)

On a previous post, a reader asked for a lengthier description of an F/M leg-locked spanking. Your wishes are my commands! In this story, I’ve gone back to the well, and within a Christian marriage, the husband is caught masturbating. I don’t know, I just love that theme. So shameful! As the story goes on the Pastor and his wife get involved, and finally the sister-in-law gets involved. At this point, in a self-admittedly awkward character change, the wife goes full Dommy with her sister. Oh, well! There was a figging, a forced masturbation, and a clean-up that needed writing! Enjoy!

Caught in the Act

Ethan sat frozen, his breath catching in his throat as the unmistakable sound of the front door opening echoed down the hallway. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Sweetheart? I’m home early! The meeting was canceled,” Rachel called out.

Panic surged through him. His laptop was open on the bed, the images still on the screen—images he should never have been looking at. His trousers and underpants were bunched around his ankles, leaving no room for denial. He fumbled desperately to close the laptop, yanking a blanket over his lap just as his wife stepped into the bedroom.

She took one look at his flushed face, his trembling hands, the way he was clutching the blanket—and her eyes darkened with realization.

“Ethan.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “What were you doing?”

His throat was dry. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

Rachel’s lips pressed into a thin line, her disappointment evident. She closed the bedroom door behind her and folded her arms. “I think we both know what you were doing. The question is—why?”

Ethan swallowed hard. “Rachel, I—I didn’t mean to. It just—”

She shook her head. “No excuses. You promised me. You promised God.”

The shame was suffocating. He had stood beside Rachel in church countless times, listening to sermons on purity, self-control, and faithfulness. He had even counseled other men about the importance of keeping one’s heart and mind pure. And yet, here he was—caught in sin, naked in more ways than one.

Rachel let out a slow breath. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now. But we are going to deal with this properly. Are your pants down? Pull them up.”

His stomach turned with dread. “Rachel, please—”

“Now, Ethan.”

He obeyed, quickly pulling up his pants under the blanket then standing red-faced—only for Rachel to wrinkle her nose in utter disgust. “Before anything else, you are going to the bathroom and washing your hands. Right now.”

His face burned even hotter, but she simply pointed toward the door. “Go.”

With his head hanging low, Ethan trudged to the bathroom, the weight of his humiliation growing heavier. When he returned, Rachel was standing by the door, her arms still crossed.

“We’re going to see Pastor Daniel and Margaret,” she said.

Ethan’s eyes widened in horror. “Rachel, no! Please, I—I don’t want—”

“I don’t care what you want right now. This isn’t just about you, Ethan. This is about our marriage, our faith, and your integrity. You broke your word, and now we need to deal with it.”

His face burned with humiliation, but he knew there was no way out of this. Rachel had made up her mind.

Pastor’s and Wife’s Counsel

Rachel drove. The car ride to the pastor’s house was silent, except for Rachel’s occasional sighs of disappointment. Ethan’s hands clenched in his lap, his stomach twisting with nerves.

When they arrived, Rachel knocked firmly on the door. Pastor Daniel answered, his kind but stern face wrinkling with curiosity at their unexpected visit.

“Rachel, Ethan—what a surprise. Please, come in.”

Pastor Daniel’s wife, Margaret, soon joined them in the sitting room. She was a warm yet no-nonsense woman in her early fifties, known for her sharp wisdom and unwavering standards.

Rachel wasted no time. “Pastor, Margaret… I caught Ethan in sin earlier this evening.”

Ethan flinched.

Rachel continued, “I came home early and found him… indulging himself. Looking at things he shouldn’t be looking at.”

Margaret’s expression darkened. Pastor Daniel’s face grew solemn.

“Ethan,” Pastor Daniel said quietly, “is this true?”

Shame crashed over him like a wave. He could barely nod. “Yes, Pastor. It’s true. I—I let temptation get the best of me.”

Margaret pursed her lips in thought. Then she looked directly at him. “I take it you did more than just look?”

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. He felt the blood drain from his face—then rush back all at once. His entire body felt like it was on fire. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The silence stretched.

Rachel inhaled sharply beside him. “Well?” she pressed, “Answer her, Ethan.”

Ethan wished he could disappear. His ears were ringing. His face was so hot he thought he might pass out. “I—I—”

Margaret arched a knowing eyebrow. “I think we have our answer. You didn’t just look—you… touched yourself?”

Ethan felt like he was about to die of embarrassment. His face twisted in humiliation, and his lips barely moved as he whispered, “Yes, ma’am.”

Margaret scoffed. “With your hand to your penis, I suppose?”

Ethan’s stomach churned. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes, ma’am.”

Margaret clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Such a shameful act,” she said, shaking her head. “Rachel, I assume this isn’t the first time he’s struggled with this?”

Rachel sighed. “No. I’ve caught him before, we’ve prayed over it, but he keeps failing.”

Margaret turned to Rachel, exhaling sharply. “Even children are taught not to do that.”

Rachel’s lips pressed into a firm line. “I know.”

Margaret folded her hands in her lap, her expression thoughtful but firm. “So now the question becomes—how to ensure this behavior is not repeated? Because clearly, words and prayer alone have not been enough.”

Rachel sighed, rubbing her temple. “I don’t know, Margaret. I’ve tried reasoning with him. I’ve tried setting boundaries. I’ve reminded him of his commitment to purity, of the importance of self-control. And yet, here we are again.”

Margaret nodded slowly. “That’s because he hasn’t been given a reason to stop. He hasn’t faced real consequences.” She looked Ethan directly in the eye. “You’re a grown man, Ethan, but you are still struggling with a sin that should have been corrected in boyhood.”

Ethan felt his face burn with shame. He clenched his hands into fists, looking down at his lap, unable to meet Margaret’s piercing gaze.

Margaret continued, her voice unwavering. “And when a boy fails to learn self-discipline, what do his parents do?”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “They… correct him.”

Margaret nodded firmly. “Precisely. And correction must be firm, memorable, and unmistakable in its message. It is not enough to scold, Rachel. You must discipline.”

Rachel’s lips parted slightly in shock. “You mean…?”

Margaret sat back in her chair. “A proper, old-fashioned spanking, Rachel. A serious one. That’s what Ethan needs.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. His mouth went dry, and his hands gripped his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Rachel, I—”

Margaret held up a hand, silencing him. “You are not in a position to argue, young man. This is precisely the problem—there is no fear of consequence, no reason for you to resist temptation. That should change tonight.”

Rachel exhaled, her expression conflicted. “I… I don’t know. I mean, he’s my husband.”

Margaret gave a small, knowing smile. “Yes. Your husband. But Rachel, your role as his wife isn’t just to support him—it’s to hold him accountable.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed as she sat back, clearly taken aback by Margaret’s suggestion. “But, a spanking?” she repeated hesitantly. “Margaret, I… I don’t know. That feels… wrong. I was raised to believe that a wife is to submit to her husband. The church submits to Christ—shouldn’t I be submitting to my husband?”

Pastor Daniel leaned forward, his expression kind but firm. “That is true, Rachel, but only in the proper context. The church submits to Christ, yes—but Christ is a perfect leader. A husband is meant to lead as Christ leads. But what happens when he isn’t fulfilling that role? When he is failing in discipline, self-control, and righteousness?”

Rachel hesitated, her hands clasping in her lap. “I… suppose he needs guidance. Correction.”

“Exactly,” Pastor Daniel said. “Ethan is not yet the mature, disciplined husband that God calls him to be. And a man who cannot control himself in private cannot truly lead his home in righteousness. When a husband is lacking in maturity, his wife’s role is not to submit to his weakness—it is to help him grow into the man he is meant to be. Sometimes, that requires firm guidance.”

Rachel looked at Ethan, her expression conflicted. “But discipline? That still feels… unnatural.”

Margaret smiled knowingly. “It’s not as unnatural as you think, dear. It’s more common than you think for wives to correct their husbands when they fail in their duties. A man who acts like a child—who cannot control his base impulses—must be treated like one until he learns better. Hopefully, this can be a temporary situation until he can prove himself to be the man you expected him to be when you married.”

Ethan’s face burned. “Ma’am, please—”

Pastor Daniel silenced him with a raised hand. “Ethan, you have proven that you cannot control yourself in this area. You need intervention, son. This is about ensuring you learn the lesson you should have learned as a boy.”

Rachel exhaled, running a hand over her face. “I suppose I have been too lenient. I’ve prayed with him, talked with him, set expectations—and yet, here we are again. Maybe I’ve been approaching this the wrong way.”

Margaret nodded. “Exactly. He needs a consequence, Rachel. A real one. And a proper, bare-bottom spanking will do just that.”

Rachel swallowed, clearly uneasy but also understanding the wisdom in what was being said. She looked at Ethan, who sat stiffly, his face red with humiliation. “I don’t want to do this, Ethan,” she said quietly. “But I can’t ignore what’s happening. You’re failing in your role, and I can’t just sit by and let you continue down this path.”

Ethan shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Rachel, please, this is humiliating…”

Rachel sighed, her voice growing firmer. “Do you think I want to do this? I never imagined I’d be in this position. But I won’t let you keep failing in this way. You need to understand—really understand—that this stops now.”

Margaret reached out and gave Rachel’s hand a squeeze. “Good. Stand firm, dear. If you back down now, Satan wins.”

Rachel inhaled deeply, then straightened her shoulders. “We’re going home, Ethan. And when we get there, we are going to handle this properly.”

Margaret folded her arms, looking at Ethan with a sharp, appraising gaze. “A word of advice, Rachel, I know this feels strange to you—disciplining your husband like a boy. But let’s be clear about something. Ethan is acting like a boy. He’s displaying the lack of self-control of a child. And so, he must be punished as a child would be.”

Rachel nodded slowly, her hands gripping her lap as she tried to absorb everything.

“But,” Margaret continued, her voice firm, “while he is acting like a boy, we cannot ignore the reality that he is physically not a child. He is a grown man. And if this punishment is to have the same impact as a boy’s would, then the severity must be adjusted accordingly.”

Ethan stiffened, his stomach dropping. “No… please—”

Margaret ignored him, her expression serious. “A child’s spanking is over quickly, and while it stings, it fades fast. But a man—especially one as stubborn as Ethan—needs something that will stay with him. He must dread the consequences of failure.”

Rachel swallowed, her fingers tightening in her lap. “How… how do I ensure that?”

Margaret gave her a knowing look. “You use a proper implement, Rachel. Your hand won’t do—not for a man. If you want this lesson to sink in, you need something with weight that will leave him sore enough to remember the next time temptation strikes.”

Rachel exhaled, conflicted. “And you think…?”

Margaret reached into the side table and pulled out a thick, heavy wooden hairbrush. She turned it in her hands, the solid weight unmistakable. “This, dear. The back of a good, stout wooden hairbrush. It’s a traditional implement for a reason. It stings like nothing else, and after just a few swats, he’ll understand exactly what he’s brought upon himself. Do you have one at home?”

Rachel bit her lip before nodding. “Yes. A thick wooden one. I use it every morning.”

Margaret smiled approvingly. “Then that’s what you’ll use. And you’ll use it well.”

Ethan’s face burned as his stomach twisted into knots. “Rachel, please, you don’t have to—”

Rachel turned to him, her voice firmer than before. “Ethan, enough. You’ve made your choices, and now, you’ll face the consequences.”

Margaret nodded. “Good. And when you take him home, Rachel, don’t hold back. He needs to truly feel this punishment—just as a boy would if he had been properly corrected in childhood. Only then will he understand.”

Rachel inhaled deeply, then gave a resolute nod. “I understand. And I won’t go easy on him.”

Margaret smiled. “That’s exactly what he needs.”

Ethan sat frozen, his heart hammering in his chest. He had no more arguments left. This was happening. And Margaret had just ensured that it would be thorough.

Rachel stood, her grip tightening around Ethan’s wrist. “Come along,” she said firmly.

Ethan hesitated for a brief moment, but Rachel didn’t give him the chance to resist. With a determined tug, she pulled him up from his seat, leading him toward the door with the same no-nonsense authority one might use with a wayward child. His face burned as he stumbled slightly, forced to follow.

Margaret and Pastor Daniel followed them to the doorway, watching the scene with quiet amusement. Rachel marched Ethan straight to the car, her grip unyielding, as if she had no intention of letting him slip away from the consequences awaiting him.

At the car, she pulled the passenger door open with one hand, then turned to him with a stern glance. “Get in.”

Ethan hesitated, shifting awkwardly. Rachel exhaled sharply, then took him firmly by the arm and placed him in the seat. His stomach churned with humiliation as she reached across him, pulling the seatbelt over his chest and clicking it into place—another small but unmistakable gesture of control.

Satisfied, Rachel straightened up, shut the door, and walked around the front of the car. As she reached the driver’s side, she paused and looked back toward the doorway. She lifted a hand and gave a small, polite wave.

Margaret smiled approvingly, waving back, while Pastor Daniel chuckled, shaking his head.

As Rachel slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door, Pastor Daniel let out a low whistle. “Well,” he said, crossing his arms, “I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now.”

Margaret let out a knowing chuckle. “No, I don’t suppose so. She does look determined.”

They both laughed softly as the car pulled away, watching as Rachel drove off with a clear sense of purpose. Whatever awaited Ethan at home, there was no escaping it now.

The Spanking

Ethan stood before Rachel, his hands shaking at his sides. The hairbrush in her grip looked impossibly heavy, as if it carried not just weight but judgment. He had already been utterly humiliated, caught in the act, made to confess to Pastor Daniel and Margaret, scolded as if a child, his act and his punishment discussed openly, and now, the moment he had been dreading had arrived.

Rachel sat on the edge of the bed, her posture straight, her face stern.

“Take them down,” she said simply.

His stomach churned. “Rachel, please,” he whispered, already knowing it was useless.

“Now, Ethan.”

His fingers fumbled at his waistband, and slowly, shamefully, he peeled down his pants and underwear, baring himself before his wife. The exposure under these circumstances was almost worse than the punishment itself, or so he thought at the time. His face burned as he lowered them all the way to his ankles.

Rachel looked at him—really looked at him—and shook her head, her expression filled with disappointment. “You stood beside me in church just this past Sunday,” she said coldly. “You said prayers. You lifted your hands in worship. And then the moment I left the house today, you went straight to filth.”

Ethan’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I—I don’t know why I—”

“You do know why,” Rachel snapped. “Because you let your desires control you instead of standing firm. Because you gave in to temptation like a weak-willed child. Because you betrayed me.”

“B-betrayed?” His head snapped up.

“Yes, Ethan. Looking at other women that way is infidelity in your heart,” she said. “Touching yourself while looking at them is even worse. You made a mockery of our vows. Of me.”

Ethan’s legs felt weak. His lip trembled. “Rachel, I swear, I love you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you took your hands to your filthy penis,” she said sharply, pointing at his dangling, offending member.

His stomach twisted.

She pointed at her lap. “Get over my knee.”

His knees nearly buckled. His body was trembling so much he could hardly move, but Rachel waited. She wasn’t going to tell him again.

Swallowing his humiliation, Ethan lowered himself across her lap, his face burning hotter than ever. His exposed skin prickled with shame as she adjusted him, making sure his bare bottom was perfectly positioned.

Rachel wrapped an arm tightly around his waist. “You are going to feel just how much this hurt me,” she said.

Then the hairbrush fell.

Crack!

The first swat landed so hard Ethan gasped. The sting was immediate, sharp, and overwhelming.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Rachel was not holding back. Every stroke was fueled by her frustration, her hurt, her absolute disgust at what she had caught him doing.

“You disgusted me today, Ethan,” she said between furious swats.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“You defiled our marriage bed!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Ethan squirmed, his hands clutching desperately at the sheets. “Rachel, please!” he gasped.

But she wasn’t stopping. Not yet. Not nearly.

“You think this is painful?” Crack! Crack! “You think this is embarrassing?” Crack! Crack! Crack! “How do you think I felt, Ethan?”

He let out a choked sob as the hairbrush landed over and over, the relentless sting intensifying with every swat.

“Finding my husband—the man I trusted—sitting there with his pants down, staring at other women like a lustful dog?”

She punctuated every word with sharp, punishing smacks. His bottom was already bright red, but she showed no mercy.

“You tell me, Ethan—should I have just ignored it?” Crack! “Should I have let you keep doing it?” Crack! “Or should I make sure you never do it again?”

“I—I won’t! I promise! I swear!”

Rachel’s grip on his waist tightened. “Not good enough.”

She raised the hairbrush high and brought it down with renewed force.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Ethan yelled. The fire in his backside was unbearable. He kicked his legs, but Rachel held him firmly in place. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t resist. All he could do was endure it.

“Tell me why you’re being punished,” she ordered.

“I—I sinned!” he sobbed. “I broke my vows! I—I acted like a child! I—ohhh, Rachel, please!”

His breath hitched. His bottom throbbed. His face was wet with tears. But Rachel didn’t stop.

Crack! Crack!

“You acted like a child,” she repeated. “And you are being punished like a child.”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Ethan could hardly breathe as the spanking continued. His bottom was on fire, raw, scorched by her unrelenting discipline. He was sobbing openly now, his body wracked with shuddering gasps as Rachel continued to blister his bottom with the back of the heavy hairbrush. His legs kicked wildly, his hands clutching desperately at the bedspread as he tried to endure the relentless punishment. But Rachel wasn’t done.

“You are not getting away from this,” she said sternly.

Before he could react, Rachel shifted her position. With a swift authority, she hooked her right leg over the backs of both of his, locking him down completely. His legs were trapped now—no more kicking, no more escaping the fire she was branding into his skin.

Then, with a firm grip, she seized his right wrist and twisted his arm up behind his back, pinning it in place.

Ethan let out a strangled cry at the new position. He was helpless now, completely restrained across her lap, bared and vulnerable, his bottom arched up for further punishment.

Rachel didn’t hesitate.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The hairbrush exploded against his burning backside at an even more furious pace, raining down blistering swats in rapid succession. The force of each impact sent waves of fire searing across his already swollen skin.

Ethan wailed. His body jerked instinctively, but Rachel’s leg and firm grip kept him firmly in place.

His bottom, once merely pink at the beginning of the spanking, had deepened to a rich, angry red. Now, under the relentless barrage of the hairbrush, darker shades began to appear—deep crimson patches blooming across his sit spots, purpling bruises forming where the brush landed hardest. The tender skin at the tops of his thighs had turned a fiery, mottled scarlet.

“You will learn!” Rachel punctuated each furious swat with her words. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! “You will remember!” CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! “You will never disgrace me again!”

Ethan’s sobs were ragged, desperate. “I—I won’t! I swear, Rachel! Please! Please, I—ohhh!—I c-can’t take any more!”

Rachel tightened her grip on his pinned wrist and delivered the hardest and fastest swats yet.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

“You can take it, Ethan,” she said fiercely. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! “You will take it until I say you’re done.” CRACK! CRACK!

Ethan’s world had shrunk to nothing but pain, shame, and the unyielding discipline of his wife. His bottom was beyond red now—it was dark, bruised, throbbing with heat, the center a deep, swollen purple, the outer edges splotched with dark crimson marks that would linger for well over a week.

Rachel finally slowed, finishing with four  deliberate, punishing swats to the lowest part of his sit spots.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Ethan let out a final, broken sob, his body going limp over her lap, completely defeated.

Rachel released his wrist, letting it drop to the bed, and finally lifted her leg, freeing him.

“You may stand,” she said quietly.

Ethan shakily pushed himself up, his hands flying to his scorched, swollen backside. He winced sharply, barely able to breathe through the pain. His thighs quivered, and his face was drenched with tears, but Rachel snapped her fingers.

“Hands down.”

He forced himself to obey.

Rachel stood, facing him. He could barely meet her eyes.

“You will never, ever, humiliate me like that again,” she said.

“N-no, ma’am,” he croaked.

She studied him, then reached over and took his hand in hers.

“We’re going to pray now,” she said, her voice gentler now. “And then you are going to bed—on your stomach, apparently,” she said with a chuckle.

Ethan wiped his face, his shame complete. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

Prayers

Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat and went to his knees, guided by Rachel, his movements stiff and jerky. She knelt gracefully, folding her hands before her, resting her elbows on the bedspread. Her long, modest skirt pooled neatly around her knees, and her soft cream cardigan, buttoned up to her collarbone, remained as prim and untouched as if she had spent the evening in polite conversation rather than administering severe discipline.

Ethan, in stark contrast, knelt beside her, his legs trembling with exhaustion, his backside throbbing fiercely. His pants and underwear still lay discarded in a heap beside the bed where he had kicked them off during his spanking. His lower half was completely bare, his scorched, bruised bottom on full display as he shifted on his knees. His posture was unsteady, and every movement sent fresh stabs of pain through his punished flesh.

Rachel clasped her hands together, lowering her head in reverence. Ethan mirrored her, but where she looked serene, he was wrecked—his face blotchy from crying, his breath still ragged. His skin prickled with cool air against the raw, burning heat of his backside.

“Lord,” Rachel began, her voice soft but unwavering, “we come before You tonight with humbled hearts.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering shut.

“We ask for Your mercy, Your guidance, and Your strength,” she continued. “We ask You to cleanse Ethan of his sins, to remind him of his vows, and to fortify his spirit against temptation.”

Ethan bit his lip, the weight of her words sinking deep into his heart.

Rachel’s tone grew firmer. “Lord, help Ethan to be the husband You have called him to be. To be faithful, not only in action but in thought. To cherish what is good and pure, and to turn away from sin. May he never again defile our marriage with impurity.”

Ethan felt a fresh wave of shame flood through him.

“And Lord,” Rachel continued, her voice softer now, “grant him wisdom and strength to remember this lesson. May the discipline he received tonight serve as a reminder of his commitment to You and to our marriage.”

Ethan shuddered, his body still aching from that very discipline.

They remained kneeling for a long moment, the room silent except for their quiet, steady breaths. The contrast between them was undeniable—Rachel, fully clothed, upright, composed in her faith; Ethan, exposed, trembling, marked by his punishment.

Finally, Rachel turned her head toward him. “Do you have anything to add, Ethan?”

His voice was hoarse, thick with lingering emotion. “Lord, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I—I repent. Please, give me strength. And… thank You for my wife.” His voice cracked. “For keeping me accountable. For loving me enough to correct me.”

Rachel nodded, satisfied. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Ethan echoed.

She reached over, cupping his chin, tilting his tear-streaked face toward her. “You are forgiven, Ethan. But you will remember this.”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rachel exhaled and stood. “Now, get in bed. On your stomach.”

Ethan obeyed instantly, lying down gingerly, his bare, swollen bottom the most painful reminder of his lesson. Rachel pulled the thin sheet  over him, even that making him wince.

“Sleep now,” she said gently. “Tomorrow is a new day. And I expect you to wake up as a better man.”

Ethan whispered, “Yes, ma’am,” before closing his eyes, his bottom throbbing.

A Humbling Morning

Ethan woke with a sharp hiss, his body stiff and sore. The sheet felt like sandpaper against his swollen, bruised backside, and even the smallest shift sent fresh reminders of the punishment he had endured the night before. His face burned just thinking about it. He had cried. Begged. Kicked. And Rachel had not relented until she was satisfied that he had truly learned his lesson.

He lay still for a moment, his face in the pillow, the weight of his shame pressing down on him. How could he face Rachel this morning? How could he look her in the eye after what she had seen—after what she had done?

But he had no choice.

The bedroom door opened, and Rachel stepped in, already dressed for the day. Her long navy skirt swished around her ankles, and her crisp white blouse was buttoned up to her collarbone. She looked put together, unshaken, as if the events of the night before had not affected her in the least.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Rachel sat beside him and pulled the covers down, exposing his backside. She studied it carefully, her fingers tracing lightly over the deep crimson and purple bruises that now bloomed across both cheeks. There were darker marks where the hairbrush had landed hardest, and the lowest part of his sit spots—just above his thighs—were mottled with deep, angry splotches.

Ethan tensed as her fingers pressed into the sorest areas. “Ahhh! Rachel—!”

She hummed in disapproval. “Still sore, I see.”

He clenched his fists against the sheets, his face burning. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

She continued her inspection, her fingers moving with both precision and authority. “You’re going to be feeling this for quite a few days,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I want you to feel it. I want you to be reminded of this every time you sit down.”

Ethan swallowed, his throat dry. “I—I won’t forget, Rachel. I swear.”

Rachel exhaled and stood up. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

He blinked. “Out?”

“Yes,” she said simply, retrieving his pants from the chair where they had been discarded the night before. “To see Margaret.”

Ethan’s blood ran cold. “Rachel, no!” He bolted upright—too fast, because the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his bottom. He gasped, grabbing the sheets. “P-please, not Margaret—”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You confessed your sin to her last night. Now she will see what came of it.”

His face burned with shame. “Rachel, please!”

She turned sharply. “Are you questioning my judgment, Ethan?”

His stomach twisted. “No, ma’am,” he whispered.

“Then get dressed,” she said sternly. “I want Margaret to see you exactly as you are.”

A Visit to Margaret

The drive to Pastor Daniel and Margaret’s house was quiet except for the occasional sniffle from Ethan, who sat gingerly in the passenger seat, his hands gripping his knees. Every bump in the road sent fresh reminders of Rachel’s thorough discipline, and Rachel’s cryptic comment about ‘seeing him as he is’ had him nervous.

Rachel pulled into the driveway and parked. Without waiting for him, she stepped out of the car and strode toward the house, her heels clicking purposefully against the pavement. Ethan hesitated, gripping the seatbelt tightly before finally forcing himself to follow.

Margaret answered the door with her usual no-nonsense expression. She was dressed simply but neatly—a long, practical skirt and a lavender cardigan, her graying hair pinned back in a neat bun. She looked between them, her sharp eyes immediately settling on Ethan.

“Ah,” she said knowingly, taking in Ethan’s pained walk. “I take it last night went as planned?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes. And I wanted to show you the results.”

Ethan wished the ground would open and swallow him whole.

Margaret stepped aside. “How delightful. Please, come in.”

Ethan hesitated at the threshold, but Rachel nudged him forward. His legs felt like lead as he stepped inside, his face burning hotter with every second.

Margaret led them into the sitting room, then gestured toward the center of the room. “Well? Let’s see it, then.”

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. “M-Ma’am, please—”

Rachel folded her arms. “Pants down, Ethan.”

His body tensed. “Rachel, please, I—I can’t—”

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Would you like me to do it for you?”

With shaking hands, he reached for his waistband, turning away, facing the fireplace rather than the women behind him, and slowly, painfully, lowered his pants and underwear. The cool air hit his still-tender skin, sending a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over him.

Rachel stepped forward and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Your shirttails are in the way. Lift them up.”

Ethan hesitated, his breath shallow.

“Nice and high,” Rachel ordered. “Hold it above your waist. And bend forward so Margaret can get a proper look.”

His face burned hotter than ever, but he had no choice. His fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, lifting it high, exposing his lower back. His stomach churned as he slowly bent forward, presenting his battered bottom for inspection.

Margaret let out a low whistle. “Well, well. That’s quite a thorough spanking, Rachel.”

Rachel nodded. “He deserved every swat.”

Margaret took her time inspecting the damage. She approached him, her fingers skimming lightly over the deep red and purple bruises. Ethan flinched at her touch, his face burning with humiliation.

Margaret clicked her tongue. “Mmm. Very well-marked. He won’t be sitting comfortably for quite a while.”

Rachel folded her arms. “That was the intention.”

Ethan clenched his eyes shut, wishing he could disappear. But just when he thought it was over, Margaret spoke again.

“Turn around, Ethan.”

His breath caught. “W-what?”

Margaret’s expression remained firm. “Turn around. Keep your shirt up.”

Ethan’s hands clenched the fabric tighter. “No—please, ma’am—”

Rachel’s voice was sharp. “Do as Margaret says. Now.”

His stomach churned, and his entire body trembled as he forced himself to turn. He stood frozen, his face crimson. While his shirtails behind were raised, those in front still offered a degree of modesty. However he was still acutely aware of the bottoms of his genitals peeking out from under his front shirtails, exposed to Margaret.

Margaret settled into her armchair, crossing her legs with deliberate composure, her gaze never leaving Ethan’s trembling form. He stood before her, head bowed, face beet-red, still gripping the rear hem of his shirt with both hands. His pants and underwear were still pooled around his ankles, and the weight of humiliation pressed down on him like a crushing force.

Margaret arched an eyebrow. “Higher in front.”

Ethan swallowed thickly, his hands shaking as he hesitated.

Margaret’s lips thinned. “I said lift that shirt higher, young man. Right up over your belly button. I want nothing in the way while we discuss this.”

Rachel, standing beside him with her arms folded, let out an impatient sigh. “Do as she says, Ethan.”

With a shuddering breath, Ethan obeyed, moving his hands to his front and lifting the fabric higher until it was bunched up just below his chest, exposing every inch of his stomach, hips, and groin. He clenched his jaw as the cool air swept over his bare skin, but nothing compared to the shame of Margaret’s piercing gaze settling firmly on the very thing that had gotten him into so much trouble.

Margaret let out a disgusted sigh, shaking her head. “Pitiful.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his grip tightening on his shirt.

Margaret’s voice was sharp and unyielding. “You stand here like a chastised little boy because you acted like one. Rachel had to take you in hand, and now you’re here, bare and humiliated, because you couldn’t control yourself.”

Ethan’s stomach twisted with shame.

Margaret pointed directly at his exposed genitals. “And this—” she paused, narrowing her eyes in pure disdain, “—this is what you let control you, isn’t it?”

Ethan’s entire body locked up. His ears rang with humiliation. He could barely breathe, his face burning hotter than ever.

Margaret scoffed. “Well? Am I wrong?”

His lips trembled. “N-no, ma’am,” he whispered, mortified beyond words.

Margaret leaned back slightly, studying him. “Look at you,” she muttered. “A grown man, standing in front of two respectable women, clutching your shirt like a scolded child, completely bare because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Ethan felt like he was going to collapse from shame. His knees wobbled.

Margaret wasn’t done. “Even little boys are taught not to do what you did, Ethan. not to play with themselves. Certainly not to masturbate .And yet here you are, being treated exactly as you deserve.”

He couldn’t even respond. His throat was too tight.

Margaret shook her head again. “Your behavior disgusts me, young man. Absolutely disgusts me.”

Rachel let out a sharp breath beside him. “Well, Ethan? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ethan’s lips trembled, his hands gripping his shirt like a lifeline. His voice cracked as he finally whispered, “I—I’m sorry, ma’am…”

Margaret gave a curt nod. “You should be.”

Ethan thought he had never felt so small, so utterly humbled. He could only pray that the earth would open and swallow him whole before he had to endure another second of this shame.

Margaret leaned back in her chair. “Good. Now put your pants up before I decide you need another dose of discipline over my own knee right now.”

Ethan fumbled desperately with his clothing, yanking his pants up as quickly as possible. His hands shook as he buttoned them, his ears ringing with humiliation.

Rachel gave him a pointed look. “You’ll be thanking Margaret for her wisdom, won’t you?”

Ethan’s heart pounded. He swallowed thickly. “T-thank you, ma’am,” he murmured, still avoiding her gaze.

Margaret simply nodded, satisfied. “You’re welcome, Ethan. I expect I won’t be seeing you in this state again.”

Ethan barely managed a whisper. “No, ma’am.”

Rachel placed a firm hand on his. “Come on. We’re going home.”

“We’ll be seeing you two in Church tomorrow morning?” asked Margaret.

“Absolutely,” said Rachel.

As she led him by the hand towards the door, Ethan knew one thing—he would never forget this. And he would never let himself be put through this kind of humiliation again.

A Wife’s Enthusiasm

Later that afternoon, Pastor Daniel stepped through the front door, setting his Bible on the entryway table as he glanced around. The house was quiet except for the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Margaret, as always, was keeping things in order.

He strode in, loosening his tie, and found her wiping down the countertop with a satisfied expression on her face.

“You look pleased with yourself,” he observed.

Margaret smirked. “I had quite the visit today.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She turned, setting the dish towel aside. “Rachel and Ethan dropped by.”

At the mention of the couple, Daniel nodded knowingly. “Ah. And did they follow through with your suggestion from last night?”

Margaret let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, they followed through, all right. Rachel followed through with great enthusiasm, judging by the state of her poor husband’s behind this morning.”

“Oh! You saw it did you?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Rachel seemed keen to show it off.”

Daniel folded his arms. “And was it bad?”

Margaret tilted her head. “Oh, my dear, I don’t think ‘bad’ quite covers it. Let’s just say…” she let out an amused breath, “she was extremely thorough. Poor boy won’t be sitting comfortably for a week.”

Daniel chuckled. “Good. I was hoping she’d take your advice seriously.”

Margaret nodded. “Oh, she did. The bruises were deep, Daniel. You could see where she really laid into him.”

Daniel shook his head, amused. “Well, that’s what happens when a man lacks self-control. Rachel’s a good woman. Strong. She’ll keep him in line.”

Margaret smirked. “She already is.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “And I assume Ethan was properly humbled?”

Margaret laughed. “You should have seen him. Face redder than a beet. Couldn’t even look me in the eye at first. I made him turn around and lift his shirt so I could inspect everything—oh, I thought he might die of embarrassment right then and there.”

Daniel chuckled. “Ah, displaying the offending bits, eh? And you didn’t make it easy on him, I’m sure.”

Margaret shrugged with a knowing smile. “I never make it easy in these situations. I told him exactly what he needed to hear. I pointed right at his shame and made sure he understood why he was in this position. No dignity, no excuses—just a grown man standing there, utterly exposed, knowing exactly what he had done.”

Daniel shook his head, smiling. “You’re ruthless, Margaret.”

She laughed. “Oh, I am. But you know what? It worked. He was trembling like a leaf, barely able to stammer out an apology. I told him outright that even children are taught better than to do what he did.”

Daniel let out a low whistle. “With everything… just hanging out. And Rachel going along?”

Margaret smirked. “More than going along. Positively Encouraging it. I think she wanted him as humiliated as possible—to make sure the lesson stuck.”

Daniel nodded approvingly. “Good. If Rachel keeps this up, Ethan won’t dare fall into temptation again.”

Margaret crossed her arms. “I don’t think he will. Not after this morning. And certainly not after last night. If she gave him that kind of spanking the first time, imagine what she’ll do if it happens again.”

Daniel let out a thoughtful hum. “Then I’d say he’s in good hands.”

Margaret smirked. “Oh, very good hands. Rachel isn’t just punishing him, Daniel—she’s training him. And from what I saw today, I’d say she’s doing an excellent job.”

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, then. I suppose the Lord’s work is being done in their household after all.”

Margaret grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

And with that, she returned to her dishes, still smiling in satisfaction at the memory of Ethan’s utter humiliation that morning.

A Sermon to Remember

Ethan had never felt more anxious walking into church than he did the next morning. The moment he stepped through the doors, it was as if all eyes were on him, though he knew it was just his imagination. His backside still ached from Rachel’s thorough discipline two evenings ago, and the memory of Margaret’s humiliating inspection was burned into his mind.

Rachel walked beside him, her posture straight, her face composed. She was dressed in a modest navy dress with a crisp white collar, looking every bit the devoted Christian wife. Ethan, in contrast, felt small beside her. He adjusted his tie nervously, knowing that every time he shifted in his seat, he’d be reminded of his punishment.

As they slid into a pew near the front, Rachel leaned over slightly and whispered, “You’ll be sitting still today, won’t you?”

Ethan swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him a pointed look before smoothing her skirt and turning her attention to the front.

The service began as usual—hymns, prayers, and a few announcements—but Ethan’s stomach twisted when Pastor Daniel stepped up to the pulpit. There was a different energy in the room, a solemn weight that settled over the congregation.

The pastor’s voice was deep and commanding as he opened his Bible. “Today’s message, brothers and sisters, is about self-control.”

Ethan’s breath hitched.

Rachel’s lips curled ever so slightly, and she shot him a very pointed look before turning back to the pulpit.

Pastor Daniel continued. “The Lord calls us to be masters of our bodies, not slaves to our fleshly desires. Yet, many struggle with temptation. Many give in to unclean urges, betraying their own conscience, their spouse or parents, and their God.”

Ethan’s ears burned. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

Rachel didn’t say a word—she didn’t have to. She simply turned her head slightly and looked at him again, her expression unreadable.

Pastor Daniel’s voice grew stronger. “The sin of lust corrupts the soul. And what is lust but the failure to resist temptation? It begins with a wandering eye, a lingering thought, and before you know it—” he slammed his palm on the pulpit for emphasis “—you are lost in sin, gratifying yourself in ways that disgrace those you hold dearest!”

Ethan felt a jolt of pure humiliation course through him.

Rachel didn’t move, but he felt her gaze, heavy with meaning. He clenched his jaw, his hands gripping his knees.

Pastor Daniel continued. “The sin of masturbation is not just a private failure—it is a spiritual failure. It is weakness! It is selfishness! It is a betrayal of the body the Lord has given you, and those who trust you to be pure in mind and body!”

Ethan’s face was on fire.

Rachel tilted her head slightly, her eyes flicking down to his lap—just for a second—before she turned back to the sermon.

His heart stopped.

She wasn’t just listening—she was making sure he was listening.

Pastor Daniel’s voice boomed through the sanctuary. “Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit! And yet, some of you—some of you sitting right here today—defile that temple in secret! But the Lord sees what you do in the dark!”

Ethan swallowed, his palms growing sweaty.

Rachel gave a slow, deliberate nod, as if agreeing with every word.

Pastor Daniel’s gaze swept across the congregation. “And when a person falls into sin, they must be corrected! Discipline is an act of love, my friends. The Lord disciplines those He loves, just as a righteous parent or spouse must correct their child or partner when they stray!”

Ethan barely held in a whimper as the Pastor looked directly at him.

Rachel folded her hands neatly in her lap, a small, satisfied smile playing at the edges of her lips.

Pastor Daniel leaned forward. “So I ask you today—are you in control of your body? Or is your body in control of you?”

Ethan thought he might die of embarrassment.

The sermon continued, but Ethan barely heard the rest. Every pointed glance from Rachel, every knowing pause from Pastor Daniel, every whispered “Amen” from the congregation felt like a hammer driving his humiliation deeper.

By the time the service ended, Ethan was shaking. He followed Rachel out of the pew, walking stiffly—both from the lingering soreness in his backside and the utter mortification of the past hour.

“Did you hear the sermon, Ethan?” asked Rachel as they filed out.

His voice was hoarse. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you listen?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rachel gave a small, approving nod. “Good. Because if I ever catch you disgracing yourself again, I’ll give you something to pray about.”

Ethan didn’t doubt it for a second.

A Humiliating Exit

As Ethan and Rachel made their way to the doors of the church, his legs felt unsteady beneath him. The scorching humiliation of the sermon still pulsed through him, just as the lingering fire in his backside reminded him of Rachel’s thorough punishment two nights ago.

And as they neared the entrance, he saw them—Pastor Daniel and Margaret, standing side by side, shaking hands and saying goodbye to each parishioner.

His stomach plummeted.

Rachel, of course, seemed utterly composed. She walked gracefully beside him, her posture straight, her hands folded neatly in front of her. In contrast, Ethan felt like a marked man, his head slightly lowered, his face still burning from the sermon’s pointed message.

As they stepped up to the doors, Margaret was the first to notice them. Her lips curled into an amused little smile, her sharp eyes flicking over Ethan’s flushed face.

“Rachel, Ethan,” she greeted, extending a hand. “Lovely to see you both this morning.”

Rachel shook her hand politely. “Good morning, Margaret. Your husband gave a wonderful sermon today.”

Margaret’s smile widened just a touch. “Wasn’t it, though?” Her gaze slid to Ethan, who was staring at the floor, clearly unable to meet her eyes.

Pastor Daniel shook Rachel’s hand next, nodding approvingly. “I trust today’s message was… relevant to your household?”

Rachel’s lips pressed into a small, knowing smile. “Oh, very much so. It was just what we needed to hear.”

Margaret let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, we rather thought it might be.” She turned to Ethan, her expression somewhere between amusement and scrutiny. “And what about you, young man?”

Ethan’s hands clenched at his sides. He forced himself to lift his head, though his face burned hotter than ever.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he stammered. “It was… very relevant.”

Margaret tilted her head. “You certainly look like a man who’s taken today’s message to heart.”

Rachel let out a quiet hum. “Oh, he has, Margaret. Believe me, he has.”

Margaret’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I’m sure he has, but I’m also sure it wasn’t just the sermon alone that had such an impact. And if he ever needs another reminder, I trust you’ll handle it?”

Rachel smiled, placing a firm hand on Ethan’s back. “Oh, he knows now that’s not in question.”

Pastor Daniel clasped Ethan’s shoulder, his grip firm, his expression stern but approving. “The Lord disciplines those He loves, Ethan. And a righteous wife does the same. Consider yourself blessed.”

Ethan could barely breathe. “Y-yes, Pastor,” he choked out.

Margaret’s smirk deepened. “And you’ll keep yourself pure from now on, won’t you?”

Ethan swallowed so hard he thought he might faint. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Rachel nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Margaret finally released him from her piercing gaze, giving Rachel one last approving nod. “Good. Then you two have a blessed day. And Ethan—”

His breath hitched. “Y-yes, ma’am?”

Margaret leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough that only he could hear.

“Keep your hands where they belong.”

Ethan nearly died on the spot. His face burned so hot he thought he might spontaneously combust.

Rachel smirked knowingly beside him and gave his lower back a small but unmistakable pat—just low enough to be a subtle reminder of what lay beneath his neatly pressed slacks.

“Let’s go, Ethan,” she said sweetly.

With one final, mortified glance at Pastor Daniel and Margaret, Ethan hurried down the steps, Rachel walking gracefully beside him.

As they stepped into the bright morning sun, Ethan knew one thing for certain—

He never wanted to go through that again.

The Follow-Up

The drive home was heavy with unspoken words. Ethan sat stiffly in the passenger seat, his hands folded tightly in his lap, his backside still tender and aching from the fierce spanking two nights before. Every shift in his seat sent a sharp reminder through him—not just of Rachel’s discipline, but of the mortification he had suffered at church that morning.

Rachel, meanwhile, was completely at ease. She hummed softly as she drove, occasionally glancing at him with a knowing smirk, as if she could still see the heat in his face from Pastor Daniel’s sermon.

Ethan wanted nothing more than to disappear upstairs and bury his head in a pillow once they got home. But as Rachel set her purse down and opened her laptop at the kitchen table, she let out a thoughtful hum.

Ethan, halfway up the stairs, turned nervously. “What is it?”

Rachel clicked her mouse a few times, then let out a soft chuckle—one that sent a cold chill down his spine.

“It’s an email from Margaret,” she said, her voice laced with amusement and authority.

Ethan’s stomach twisted. “Oh…?”

Rachel leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs neatly, and began to read aloud.

Dear Rachel,

I got to thinking after our conversation after church today and, upon reflection, I believe Ethan could benefit from a little follow-up after this morning’s sermon. A good reminder to behave.

A firm strapping would reinforce the lesson nicely. I would recommend at least a couple dozen well-placed strokes on the bare to ensure the message truly sinks in. And once that’s done, an hour in the corner would serve as a proper cooling-off period.

Two days is the perfect interval. By now, his bottom will still be tender, but the worst of the immediate soreness will have faded. That’s precisely when you should remind him that his discipline is not something to be taken lightly. A good, thorough strapping across a pre-tenderized bottom will drive the lesson deep, ensuring he carries it with him for several weeks. He will feel it every time he sits, reminding him of the consequences of sin.

For this, I recommend a heavy leather strap—one with enough weight to truly make an impression.  I have such a strap if you need to borrow it.

Just a suggestion to reinforce your earlier discipline and my husband’s sermon today.

Blessings,

Margaret

Rachel finished reading and smirked, her eyes flicking up to Ethan, who stood frozen on the stairs, his face pale with dread.

“Well,” she said, closing the laptop with a decisive click, “Margaret certainly is thoughtful, isn’t she?”

Ethan’s throat went dry. “Rachel… please…”

She simply arched an eyebrow. “Are you questioning Margaret’s wisdom?”

His breath hitched. “N-no, ma’am, but—”

Rachel rose gracefully from her chair and gave him a pointed look. “I think we both know that a proper follow-up is in order.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his heart pounding. “Rachel… we don’t even have a… a strap.”

Rachel’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile. “Actually, Ethan, we do.”

She turned and walked purposefully toward the hallway closet—the one where she stored a few household items, including a relic that had been passed down through her family.

Rachel had inherited her grandmother’s old leather strap—a thick, well-worn thing that had been used for generations to ensure discipline in the home. It had sat untouched in their house for years, never needed.

Until now.

Rachel opened the closet and retrieved the strap, running her fingers along the aged leather. It was heavier than she remembered, firm but flexible, designed to bite sharply against bare skin.

She turned back toward Ethan, who stood rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on the strap in horror.

“Oh, Ethan,” she said sweetly, slapping the strap against her palm. “I think it’s time I finally put this to good use.”

Ethan let out a whimper. His knees felt weak.

Oiling the Strap

Ethan stood frozen at the foot of the stairs, his heart pounding as he stared at the heavy leather strap now resting in Rachel’s hands. The well-worn implement had once belonged to her grandmother, passed down through generations of strict, no-nonsense women who had believed in firm discipline within the home. Until now, it had remained tucked away, unused.

But today, that would change.

Rachel ran her fingers over the aged leather, flexing it in her hands, testing its weight. “It’s been sitting in storage for a long time,” she mused. “I think it needs a little care before we use it.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his stomach twisting with dread. “Care…?”

Rachel looked up at him with a knowing smirk. “You heard me. I want it ready before I take it to your backside.”

She turned toward the laundry room, opening a small cabinet and pulling out a bottle of strap oil—a conditioning treatment designed to keep leather supple and flexible. She held it up, then tossed the strap and strap oil both into Ethan’s hands.

“Take it out to the garage,” she ordered. “I want you to oil it properly. Coat the leather and work it in. Make sure it’s soft and smooth, so it lands just right when I bend you over the back of that old couch.”

Ethan shuddered, the weight of the strap heavy in his hands. “Rachel, please—”

She arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather I invite Margaret to come supervise?”

His breath caught. “No, ma’am.”

“Then get moving.”

His hands trembled as he carried the strap and oil out to the garage, his heart hammering in his chest. The moment he stepped inside, the scent of motor oil and sawdust filled his nose. He placed the strap down on the workbench, the smooth wood surface cold beneath his fingers.

For a moment, he just stared at it, his throat tight.

Then, with shaky hands, he uncapped the bottle of strap oil and poured a small amount onto a clean rag. Slowly, he began working the oil into the leather, massaging it in, ensuring it absorbed evenly.

As he did, his mind raced. He could already feel the coming punishment—the heat, the sting, the deep, burning ache that would stay with him for days, if not weeks. His legs felt weak beneath him, his face still hot from the sheer humiliation of Margaret’s email.

Rachel was inside, waiting. And when he finished preparing the strap, she was going to use it thoroughly.

By the time he finished applying the oil, the leather gleamed slightly, smooth and supple, ready for its intended use.

Ethan swallowed hard.

There was no delaying it any longer.

With the oiled strap in his hands, he turned back toward the house, his stomach in knots.

Rachel would be expecting him. And soon, he would be over the couch, bottom bare and vulnerable, feeling exactly what a properly maintained strap could do.

Positioned for Discipline

Ethan stepped hesitantly back into the house, the oiled strap in his trembling hands. He could barely breathe as he walked toward the living room, where Rachel was waiting, seated calmly on the couch. Her posture was perfectly composed, her hands folded in her lap as if she had all the time in the world.

He stopped in front of her, swallowing hard. With nervous hands, he held out the strap.

Rachel took it from him, turning it over, inspecting the gleaming leather. She ran her fingers along the length, flexing it slightly, nodding in satisfaction. “Much better,” she murmured. “This will do just fine.”

Ethan shuddered.

Rachel lifted her eyes to his, her expression unreadable. “Now. Take off every stitch.”

His stomach plummeted. “Rachel, please—”

She arched an eyebrow. “Was I unclear?”

He flushed scarlet. His fingers twitched at his sides. He had been bared before her many times, but this… this felt different. This was deliberate, drawn-out, ritualistic humiliation.

Rachel tilted her head. “Would you like me to call Margaret and let her know you’re being difficult? Invite her over for a turn?”

That snapped him into motion. His hands shook as he reached for his tie, fumbling with the knot. One by one, he removed each piece of clothing, his face burning hotter and hotter, until at last, he was standing before her completely exposed, his hands clenching at his sides.

Rachel let her gaze travel over him, her lips pressing into a firm line. “That’s better.” She tapped the strap against her palm. “Now, climb over the back of the couch.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. “Rachel…”

“Now, Ethan.”

His knees felt weak as he turned toward the couch, his bare skin prickling with shame. He placed his hands on the cushioned backrest, then hesitated.

Rachel’s voice was sharp. “Over, Ethan. Don’t make me tell you again.”

The couch was a large, old-fashioned piece with a particularly high back. Biting his lip, he hoisted himself up, his stomach pressing against the padded top. He had to jump a little, his toes leaving the ground, before he was properly positioned—his upper body draped over the backrest, his arms resting limply on the seat cushions below, while his legs dangled helplessly behind him, toes well off the floor.

It was the most vulnerable position imaginable.

Rachel stepped behind him, adjusting the strap in her hands. She took her time, letting the moment sink in, letting Ethan feel every ounce of his complete and utter helplessness.

She placed a hand on his lower back, steadying him.

“Two dozen,” she told him. “And if you kick or squirm too much, we start over. Understood?”

Ethan’s throat went dry. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Rachel smirked.

“Good.”

A Full Lesson in Humility

Ethan’s fingertips dug into the couch cushions, his toes off the floor as he dangled helplessly over the back of the couch, his bare bottom thrust upward, perfectly positioned for the punishment about to be delivered. His breathing was shaky, his body tensed with fear, knowing what was coming.

Behind him, Rachel stood calm and composed, the heavy leather strap flexing in her hands. It had been oiled to perfection, supple yet thick and punishing, designed to burn deep with every stroke. She studied her husband’s already-paddled backside, which was still badly marked and tender from two evenings ago, and sighed with satisfaction.

“You know why you’re here, Ethan,” she said coolly, stepping into position.

He swallowed hard. “Y-yes, ma’am…”

Rachel smirked. “And you know this is going to hurt.”

Ethan let out a small, panicked whimper, his body already trembling in anticipation.

Rachel didn’t wait any longer.

She raised the strap high—and then brought it down with all her strength.

CRACK!

Ethan’s entire body jolted as a line of searing white-hot pain sliced across his bare backside. A strangled cry burst from his lips as the strap left a deep, instant welt, the skin immediately darkening to an angry crimson.

Rachel smirked. “That’s one.”

She swung again.

CRACK!

“Ahhh!” Ethan howled, his legs kicking involuntarily, his fists gripping the couch cushions as another thick stripe bloomed across his already burning flesh.

Rachel clicked her tongue. “You’d better stay still, Ethan, or we start over.”

Ethan sobbed openly, his body shaking, but he forced himself to remain in position, even as his bottom throbbed with unbearable heat.

Rachel lined up the next stroke and swung even harder.

CRACK!

“RACHEL, PLEASE!” Ethan wailed, his voice raw with agony. His toes curled, his legs twitched, but he didn’t dare move.

A deep purpling bruise began forming where the strap landed the hardest, the leather biting mercilessly into the same tender spots again and again. The colors of his cheeks had now deepened into angry reds and blooming purples, evidence of the severe discipline being meted out.

Rachel’s expression remained stern, focused, unyielding.

CRACK! CRACK!

“AHHH! OH—OH PLEASE—” Ethan’s screams filled the room, his voice cracking as his body convulsed with each brutal lash.

The marks layered over one another, turning his bottom into a canvas of deepening color—dark crimson streaks across both cheeks, with fierce purple bruises swelling near the sit spots, where the strap bit deepest.

Rachel didn’t pause.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Ethan was bawling now, his legs twitching uncontrollably, his face streaked with tears, but Rachel simply adjusted her stance and swung again.

CRACK!

“OH RACHEL, I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY!”

Rachel smirked, raising the strap higher. “You will be.”

She delivered the next three with punishing force, each one landing in a precise, agonizing stripe that left him wailing, his body shaking violently, his voice hoarse from crying.

By the time she was halfway, Ethan was a sobbing wreck, his bottom scorched beyond recognition, covered in dark, welted lines, the skin angry, swollen, and throbbing.

Rachel stepped back, admiring her work.

“Hmm,” she murmured, tapping the strap against her palm. “That’s the start of a very solid reminder.”

Ethan shuddered, his body weak, his throat sore from crying.

She lifted the strap again and tapped it against his skin. “Now, I want to hear you say it. And not just in your words. You’re going to repeat exactly what Pastor Daniel said today.”

Ethan’s stomach plummeted.

Rachel tightened her grip on the strap. “We’ll begin with this—‘Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit.’ Say it.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut. “M-my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit…”

CRACK!

The strap snapped down hard, striking across both cheeks with a merciless sting.

Ethan let out a sharp gasp, his fingers gripping the couch cushions.

Rachel swung again.

CRACK!

“Again,” she ordered.

His voice wavered. “M-my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit!”

CRACK!

His feet jerked in the air, his hips shifting instinctively, but there was nowhere to go.

Rachel paused. “Next—‘The Lord sees what you do in the dark.’ Say it.”

Ethan’s face burned hotter than ever. He knew why she had chosen that line.

He swallowed thickly. “T-the Lord sees what I d-do in the dark…”

CRACK!

The strap landed lower this time, right at the tops of his thighs, where the pain was even sharper.

Ethan yelped, his legs kicking slightly in the air.

Rachel remained unshaken. “Again.”

His voice broke. “T-the Lord sees what I d-do in the dark…!”

CRACK! CRACK!

His whole body jerked. Tears pricked at his eyes.

Rachel let the silence hang for a moment before continuing. “‘Masturbation is not just a private failure—it is a spiritual failure.’ Say it.”

Ethan’s shame was unbearable.

His voice came out in a broken whisper. “Masturbation… is not just a private failure… it is a s-spiritual failure…”

CRACK! CRACK!

The strap bit deep, sending fresh waves of fire through his already welted backside.

Ethan choked on a sob.

Rachel tilted her head. “One more time.”

His voice was barely above a breath. “Masturbation is not just a private failure… it is a s-spiritual failure…”

Rachel let out a soft hmm, admiring the deep red and purple bruises now covering every inch of his backside.

She ran her cool fingers lightly over the swollen welts, pressing slightly to make him flinch.

“Last one,” she said calmly. “‘When a man falls into sin, he must be corrected.’ Say it.”

Ethan shuddered.

“When a man f-falls into sin… he must be corrected…”

Rachel lifted the strap high.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

A final set of four punishing strokes—each harder than the last.

Ethan sobbed, his body shaking, his skin on fire.

Rachel sighed contentedly, stepping back to admire her work.

Aftermath and Timeout

Ethan lay limp over the back of the couch, his chest heaving, his face damp with tears, and his legs trembling uncontrollably. His backside was a brutal canvas of fiery pain, every inch of it marked, swollen, and radiating heat.

Rachel stood back, flexing the heavy leather strap in her hands as she admired the thoroughness of her work. The deep reds and dark purples covered his entire bottom, layered with overlapping welts where the strap had landed with punishing precision.

His sit spots were the worst, a dark, angry shade of violet, where the leather had bitten the deepest, ensuring that Ethan would feel every single step, every movement for days to come. The tender skin of his lower cheeks and upper thighs was mottled and swollen, the color shifting from scarlet to deep burgundy, a painful reminder of just how severe his punishment had been.

Small raised ridges lined his bottom from the relentless force of the strap, some welts already beginning to bruise heavily, turning into dark streaks of purplish blue. The sheer heat radiating off his punished flesh was palpable, the skin tight, throbbing, stretched to its limit from the merciless severity of Rachel’s discipline.

Rachel tilted her head, watching as his muscles twitched involuntarily, the deep bruises pulsing with every breath he took. She reached out, trailing her fingertips lightly over the worst of the marks, pressing just enough to make him whimper pathetically and flinch at her touch.

“Very thorough,” she murmured, as if evaluating a piece of work. “You won’t be sitting for quite some time, will you?”

Ethan sobbed weakly, his voice hoarse. “N-no, ma’am…”

Rachel smirked. “Good.” She tapped the still-warm leather strap against her palm. “Now—off the couch. I want you nose-to-wall where you can properly think about this.”

Ethan hesitated—his body ached, and his legs were weak—but he knew there was no room for delay. With a shuddering breath, he carefully pulled himself off the couch, his hands moving to rub his throbbing backside—

SNAP!

Rachel swung the strap lightly against his thigh.

“Hands at your sides,” she scolded.

Ethan yelped, immediately obeying, his face a deep shade of crimson.

Rachel pointed toward the far wall. “Now. Face the wall. Hands behind your head. Bottom out.”

His stomach clenched, but he had no choice. With shaky legs, he made his way to the designated spot, assuming the required humiliating posture—his well-striped backside fully on display, his fingers laced behind his head.

Rachel smiled, setting the strap aside. “One hour,” she reminded him. “Nose right against the wall the whole time. Stick that naughty bum out more. And if you so much as twitch, we add more time.”

Ethan shuddered but nodded. “Y…Y…Yes, ma’am.”

A Quick Note Back

Rachel sat at the kitchen table, stretching her shoulders as she opened her laptop. Behind her, Ethan remained facing the wall, completely bare, his nose pressed firmly against the wall. His hands were clasped behind his head as instructed, his well-striped bottom on full display, radiating heat and color from the thorough strapping she had just administered over his already sore behind. The occasional sniffle or shuddering breath told her he was still feeling every bit of his well-earned punishment.

Satisfied, she turned back to her screen and began typing a quick email to Margaret.

Dear Margaret,

Just a quick note to let you know that your advice was, as always, spot on. Ethan has just finished receiving a proper strapping—his bottom is proof of that. He’s now in the corner, sniffling quietly and, I suspect, thoroughly regretting his actions.

I have to admit, I rather enjoyed watching his face when I fetched my grandmother’s old strap… and then had him oil it before his punishment. It gave him plenty of time to reflect on what was coming, and by the time he was nude and bending over the back of the couch, he was already trembling. Good. A lesson worth learning should come with anticipation.

As for the strapping itself—let’s just say he will be feeling this for quite some time. Every stroke was well-placed and well-earned, and by the end, there was no fight left in him, only obedience. I suspect sitting will be an unwelcome experience for him over the next several weeks, as it should be.

Thank you again for your guidance. I think it’s safe to say that Ethan understands now that I will hold him accountable—and that any further missteps will be met with a firm hand.

Warmly,

Rachel

Rachel hovered over the send button for a moment before glancing back at Ethan’s trembling form. His welted, crimson backside was a testament to his punishment, and she knew without a doubt that he had learned a very real, very lasting lesson today.

With a small, satisfied smile, she clicked send.

Rachel settled onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, picking up her book.

An Unexpected Visitor

For a while, the room was quiet, except for the occasional sniffle from Ethan. His bottom throbbed horribly, the skin tender and stretched, the bruises already deepening. He felt utterly exposed, completely at her mercy.

Then the doorbell rang.

Ethan froze.

Rachel’s brows lifted in surprise. She set her book down and stood.

“Well, well,” she murmured. “I wonder who that could be?”

Ethan’s heart nearly stopped. “Rachel—!”

She smirked. “Stay right there.”

He whimpered, pressing his nose against the wall as he heard her casually walk to the door.

Then, to his absolute horror, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, sis!”

It was Hannah, Rachel’s sister. Ethan nearly died on the spot.

He heard the door open, heard the sound of Rachel greeting her warmly.

“I missed you after Church,” Hannah said cheerfully. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

Rachel laughed softly. “Oh, not at all.”

Ethan’s stomach churned violently. He was naked, his bare strapped backside on full display, his hands locked behind his head, his legs trembling from the punishment he had just endured.

This couldn’t be happening.

He wanted to run, to hide, to disappear into the floorboards, but he knew—he knew—that if he moved an inch, Rachel would make sure he regretted it even more.

Rachel’s voice was far too amused.

“Actually, Hannah,” she said lightly, “you might find this rather interesting…”

Ethan let out a silent whimper, his face burning hotter than ever.

He knew exactly what was about to happen.

A New Depth of Humiliation

Ethan’s entire body locked up as he heard Rachel’s sister, Hannah, step inside the house. He stood motionless against the wall, his well-striped, bruised backside still on full display, his hands clasped behind his head, his legs shaking from the severity of his punishment.

Then—the worst sound imaginable.

Hannah laughed. Not a polite chuckle. Not a small smirk. A full-bodied, uncontrollable laugh. Ethan’s stomach dropped.

“Oh my gosh, Rachel,” Hannah gasped between fits of giggles. “I knew you ran a tight ship, but this—this is something else!”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, I assure you, Hannah, this was very much needed.”

Hannah let out another laugh. “Well, I believe you! I mean, just look at him! His poor little backside looks like it’s been through a war!”

Ethan whimpered, his face burning hotter than it ever had in his life.

Hannah’s eyes danced with amusement as she stepped further into the room, taking in the full picture. Ethan stood there, completely exposed, his bare bottom deeply bruised, the marks of the strap unmistakable.

Then, she really took in his full nudity—the fact that nothing was covered. She could even see his manhood from the side, dangling vulnerably as he trembled in place, his bottom jutting out.

Her smirk widened.

“Wow, Rachel,” she teased. “You really do believe in old-fashioned discipline, huh?”

Rachel crossed her arms, completely unbothered. “I do what works.”

Hannah grinned. “Oh, I think it worked, all right.” She tilted her head. “Though I gotta say, it’s not every day you walk into your sister’s house and find your naked brother-in-law standing against the wall, freshly strapped like a naughty schoolboy. Those are strap marks, right? Grandma’s strap?”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his humiliation unbearable.

Rachel smirked. “Yup. And that’s over top the hairbrush spanking I gave him Friday evening.”

Hannah let out a whistle, folding her arms. “Well, I have to hear this. What on earth did he do to deserve all this?”

Rachel’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, it’s simple,” she said sweetly. “I caught him red-handed playing with himself while looking at dirty pictures.”

Hannah’s eyes widened, then immediately crinkled with delight. She burst into laughter.

Ethan groaned aloud, his face practically glowing with shame.

Hannah laughed so hard she had to brace herself against the wall. “Oh my gosh, Ethan! You got a bare-bottom paddling AND a good strapping for… that?!”

Ethan’s throat was too tight to speak. His legs trembled as he stood there, fully nude, on display like an ashamed child, while his wife and her sister discussed his sins openly.

Hannah smirked and crossed her arms. “And now that horrible sermon this morning makes so much sense.”

Rachel chuckled. “Yup.”

Hannah grinned. “Pastor Daniel’s whole fire-and-brimstone rant about ‘weak-willed men giving into their urges’? I thought that was oddly specific—but now I know it was for this pathetic little thing right here.”

Ethan let out a small, strangled whimper.

Hannah laughed harder. “Oh my gosh, Rachel! He had to sit there through that whole sermon, didn’t he?!”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, he sure did. And he blushed like a schoolgirl the entire time.”

Hannah grinned wickedly. “Oh, I bet he did!” She let out a sigh, shaking her head dramatically. “Poor thing,” she teased. “Having to hear a whole sermon about how naughty boys who can’t control themselves end up right where he is now—bare, sore, and humiliated.”

Rachel smirked. “Exactly.”

Hannah leaned in, grinning as she inspected Ethan’s battered backside. “Well, I have to say, Rachel… you did a thorough job on him.”

Rachel sighed contentedly. “Oh, he needed it.”

Hannah’s eyes glinted with mischief. “That’ll learn him to resist temptation.”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, believe me, Hannah. He won’t be tempted at all.”

A Humiliating Lesson in Obedience

Ethan stood motionless facing the wall, his bare backside still burning, his hands clasped behind his head, his legs trembling from both the severity of his strapping and the sheer humiliation of standing on full display in front of his wife and her sister. Every word of their conversation cut deeper than any lash of the strap, reducing him to nothing more than a chastised, shamefaced boy, stripped of all dignity.

Meanwhile, Rachel and Hannah sat comfortably on the couch, sipping their tea, their conversation flowing effortlessly as though his naked presence in the room were of no consequence at all.

“Honestly, Rachel, I don’t know how you do it,” Hannah said, stirring a bit of sugar into her cup. “I’ve never seen a man so thoroughly disciplined before. And from the looks of him, you didn’t just punish him—you broke him.”

Rachel chuckled, taking a slow sip of her tea. “Well, he deserved it. And if you think this was thorough, Hannah, you should’ve seen him two nights ago when I first paddled him. He was kicking like a little boy, begging me to stop.”

Hannah grinned wickedly, glancing at Ethan’s still-punished backside. “Oh, I believe it. He’s probably still feeling that, too. And now this on top of it? No wonder he’s standing so still.”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, he knows better than to move. Because if he does…” She gently patted the strap resting beside her. “Well… we’ll just have to start over.”

Ethan shuddered but stayed silent, his entire body tense.

Hannah let out a mocking sigh, shaking her head. “It really is just so sad. A grown man, reduced to this. All because he couldn’t keep his hands off himself.”

Rachel clicked her tongue. “That’s what self-control is for. But since he doesn’t have any, I have to provide it for him.”

Hannah grinned. “Well, I think you’ve done a spectacular job, sister. I doubt he’ll be making the same mistake again.”

Rachel glanced at the clock, then set down her cup. “Speaking of which…” She tilted her head toward the corner. “His time is up.”

Ethan’s stomach twisted.

Rachel set her tea aside and crossed her arms, her expression firm. “Ethan, turn around, keep your hands right where they are”

His breath hitched, but he obeyed immediately, turning slowly from the wall to face them, completely nude. His face was scarlet, his humiliation absolute, but he knew better than to hesitate.

“Come closer.”

He shuffled forwards, stopping just a few feet in front of them, his head bowed, his hands twitching on his head, his shame fully visible.

Rachel and Hannah sat comfortably on the couch, sipping their tea, fully dressed and composed, their gazes fixed on him with amused, appraising curiosity. Meanwhile, Ethan stood completely bare, his manhood fully on display, hanging shamefully in the open as he trembled under their watchful eyes.

There was nothing to shield him, no fabric to hide behind—just the cool air against his bare skin and the unbearable knowledge that they could see everything.

Rachel’s sharp eyes took in his humiliated state, her gaze trailing from his reddened face, down his bare chest, past the small quiver in his stomach, and finally—inevitably—to the most shameful part of him.

Hannah’s eyes flicked downward as well, and she let out an exaggerated hum of disapproval, her lips curling into a smirk of amusement.

“Wow,” she murmured, tilting her head, her eyes locked on the most exposed part of him. “This is what you were so desperate to touch?”

Ethan let out a soft, strangled whimper, his toes curling against the carpet.

Hannah wasn’t done. She studied him openly, cruelly, taking in the helpless way he stood, the way his manhood hung vulnerable in front of them, unable to be hidden, unable to be ignored.

Rachel smirked, her gaze flicking over him with quiet authority. “It is, isn’t it?” she mused, shaking her head. “And look where that got him. Completely bare, standing in front of us like a naughty child, showing off exactly what got him in trouble.”

Ethan let out a shuddering breath, his legs stiff with embarrassment.

Hannah chuckled, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Oh, I love that you made him hold his hands on his head. It really lets him… show off.”

Rachel sighed dramatically, taking another sip of tea. “Well, of course. He’s standing here because of his lack of self-control. The least he can do is be reminded of what happens when he can’t keep his hands to himself.”

Hannah nodded approvingly. “Mmm. It really is something, isn’t it?” She took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes roaming shamelessly over him.

Ethan wanted to die.

Hannah placed a hand on her knee, leaning forward slightly, her gaze unwavering.

“You know, Ethan,” she mused, “I’d almost feel sorry for you, standing here like this, having to display yourself after everything you did. Almost.”

Rachel smirked. “But he doesn’t deserve pity, does he?”

Hannah grinned wickedly, her eyes still fixed on his most exposed shame. “Oh, not at all.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his humiliation unbearable.

They saw everything.

There was nothing hidden, nothing private. Every inch of his most intimate vulnerability was on display, dangling shamefully in front of two fully clothed, composed women who were taking their time inspecting him, studying the results of his punishment, watching him squirm.

And until Rachel dismissed him, until she allowed him the dignity of covering himself again, he had no choice but to stand there, his manhood fully exposed, his bottom burning, as they sipped their tea and took their time drinking in his humiliation.

Rachel took a slow breath, her eyes locked onto his. “Now,” she said calmly, “tell me and Hannah what you will never even think of doing again.”

Ethan’s stomach lurched.

His face burned, his shame overwhelming, but he knew there was no escape.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “I… I will never…”

Rachel’s voice was sharp. “Louder.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his entire body trembling.

“I will never touch myself again,” he forced out, his voice thick with humiliation.

Hannah let out a soft chuckle. “Awww. Say it again, Ethan. I love hearing it.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back another wave of humiliation.

“I will never touch myself again,” he repeated, his voice cracking.

Rachel nodded approvingly. “And why is that?”

Ethan swallowed his pride, his entire body burning with shame.

“Because it’s disgusting and sinful, ma’am,” he whispered.

Hannah smirked, setting down her tea. “Oh, don’t stop now, Ethan. Go ahead, say it properly.”

Ethan let out a small whimper, his entire body trembling as he obeyed.

“Because it’s disgusting and sinful, ma’am,” he repeated, his face burning.

Rachel smiled sweetly. “That’s right.”

Hannah grinned. “And because if you ever do it again…?”

Ethan’s pulse pounded. He didn’t dare hesitate.

“I’ll be spanked again, ma’am,” he choked out.

Rachel gave a satisfied nod. “Good boy,” she said mockingly.

Hand Spanking

Hannah set her teacup down, stretching slightly before turning her gaze back to Ethan. “You know, Rachel, now I’m quite pissed off with him myself.” She tapped a manicured finger against her chin, then looked pointedly at Ethan’s quivering frame. “I mean, he cheated on my sister.”

Rachel exhaled through her nose, nodding thoughtfully. “He did.”

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. His knees felt weak.

Hannah’s eyes gleamed. “Rachel, would you mind terribly if I…?” She trailed off, patting her lap meaningfully.

Rachel smirked. “Oh, not at all. I think it’s only fair. You are my sister, after all, and if Ethan can betray me like that, well…” She shrugged. “I think you have every right to teach him a lesson of your own.”

Ethan’s stomach twisted. His bottom was still raw and throbbing from Rachel’s strapping, and now Hannah—who had just witnessed the full force of his humiliation—was going to take her turn? Even if she only used her hand, the idea of going across her lap, being spanked like a misbehaving child, was almost too much to bear.

Hannah grinned wickedly and patted her thighs. “Come on, Ethan. Over my knee.”

Ethan hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—but Rachel’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Now.”

His body moved before his mind could catch up. Shuffling forward, he placed himself hesitantly at Hannah’s side, his face burning hotter than ever.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Hannah crooned, gripping his wrist. “It’s not like I haven’t seen everything already.”

With an alarming amount of ease, Hannah tugged him forward, guiding him straight over her lap. Ethan barely had time to gasp before she adjusted his position, hiking him up higher, his freshly punished backside perfectly presented.

“Good boy,” she teased, shifting slightly beneath him. “Wow, your bottom is so warm! Rachel really did a number on you.”

Hannah’s hand ghosted over his trembling cheeks, tracing over the deep red splotches, the areas where the strap had left him raw. “Mmm,” she murmured, her palm smoothing over the curve of his backside. “Poor baby.”

Ethan shuddered, burying his face in his arms.

And then—SMACK!

A sharp crack echoed through the room as Hannah’s small but firm hand landed dead center on his burning behind.

Ethan yelped.

Hannah giggled. “Oh, wow, that got a reaction.”

She smacked him again—harder this time.

Ethan jerked against her lap, sucking in a sharp breath as fresh pain bloomed over his already tender skin.

“Oh, that has to sting,” Hannah teased, delivering another sharp slap. “Poor thing, did Rachel wear your bottom out too much for this?”

Ethan whimpered, his fingers clenching into fists.

Hannah smirked, landing another smack. “Oh, well! That’s not going to stop me.”

She picked up the pace—smack smack smack!—her palm striking with relentless precision, covering every inch of his already-reddened backside. Each slap sent fresh waves of pain rippling through him, making his legs twitch, his toes curl.

His hips shifted in desperation, but Hannah simply tsked and hooked one of her legs over the backs of his calves, locking him in place.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she scolded, delivering a particularly sharp smack to the crease of his bottom. “We’re not done yet.”

Ethan let out a choked sob.

Rachel hummed approvingly. “That’s the spirit, Hannah. Don’t let him squirm away.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Hannah tightened her grip, adjusting him slightly before securing his arm behind his back in a firm hammerlock. “See? Now he’s really trapped.”

Rachel chuckled. “Perfect. I did exactly the same.”

Ethan clenched his jaw, the humiliation cutting deeper than even the pain. Completely immobilized, he had no choice but to endure it—spanked like a naughty boy over his sister-in-law’s knee.

Hannah sighed dramatically, continuing her assault. “Honestly, Ethan, I think this is the only way to keep you in line. Maybe Rachel should start making this a weekly thing.”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

Ethan let out a shaky whimper.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Hannah giggled, running her fingers over the now furious red of his bottom. “Wow, look at that! It’s like a little furnace! I bet you’ll be feeling this for a long time.”

Rachel nodded. “He certainly will.”

Hannah leaned down slightly, her voice dipping into a mockingly sweet tone. “So, Ethan? Are you ever going to be naughty again?”

Ethan sniffled, his pride completely shattered. “N-no, ma’am.”

Hannah adjusted her grip on Ethan’s wrist, keeping his arm twisted firmly in a hammerlock while her other hand traced over the mottled surface of his backside. She let out a low whistle.

“Rachel, just look at this,” she mused, her fingers brushing over the deep reds, swollen patches, and faint purpling bruises blooming across his punished flesh. “I’ve never seen a bottom so thoroughly wrecked before. You really took your time with him, huh?”

Rachel smirked, taking a slow sip of her tea. “Of course I did. He earned every last lick of it.”

Hannah nodded approvingly before giving his backside a light tap with her fingers, watching the way the skin twitched under her touch. “Mmm. Well, I think I’ve still needs more.”

Without warning, she brought her hand down in a sharp, open-palmed slap, landing directly over the bruised swell of his right cheek.

CRACK!

Ethan jolted violently, his body arching in reflex, but Hannah held him fast, her leg still hooked securely over his, keeping him fully pinned over her lap.

“Ooooh,” she cooed mockingly, rubbing the spot she’d just smacked. “Did that sting, Ethan?”

He whimpered, his body trembling.

Rachel chuckled, setting her teacup down. “I bet it did. That poor bottom of his has already taken such a thrashing. And now, just a little hand spanking from you, and he’s already losing it.”

Hannah giggled, lifting her hand high before smack! smack! smack!—she delivered a rapid trio of slaps low across both cheeks.

Ethan yelped pitifully, his legs jerking against the firm trap of her own.

“Oh, come on,” Hannah teased, landing another sizzling spank, this time directly over the crease where his bottom met his thighs. “It’s just a hand spanking, Ethan. A little thing like this shouldn’t be so hard for you.”

Rachel smirked. “You’d think he’d be used to it by now. But look at him—flinching, squirming, whimpering.”

Hannah let out a dramatic sigh. “So pathetic.”

She resumed her steady rhythm, covering every inch of his already punished skin with firm, stinging slaps. Even though she only used her small hand, each smack sent fresh waves of white-hot pain flooding through Ethan’s bruised backside, igniting every throbbing welt Rachel had already left behind.

He couldn’t help himself—his lower legs fluttered, his hips twisted, his fists clenched, his body instinctively trying to escape the punishing sting.

But Hannah just laughed.

“Rachel, I think your big, strong husband is actually crying over this!” she mocked, landing a particularly sharp slap over the purpling flesh at the very center of his bottom.

Rachel grinned. “Oh, he is. Look at him! Red-faced, sniffling, squirming over your lap like a little boy.”

Hannah tilted her head, watching with amusement as his tears flowed, his body betraying every ounce of pain, shame, and helplessness he felt.

“Pathetic,” she declared with a theatrical sigh. “Absolutely pathetic. Honestly, Rachel, you should be embarrassed to have a husband like this. If he can’t even handle a simple hand spanking from me—a little ol’ girl—then how is he ever going to handle being the man of the house?”

Rachel smirked, shaking her head. “Oh, I’m not going to let him pretend to be the man of the house anymore. Not after his little betrayal. And definitely not after seeing him react like this. Not until he’s earned the right back, anyways.”

Hannah giggled, adjusting her grip on his hammerlocked arm as he continued to struggle uselessly. “Honestly, I think this is my new favorite activity,” she said with a wicked grin. “Disciplining pathetic little boys who don’t treat my sister right.”

And with that, she resumed.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Her hand flew mercilessly, landing slap after slap, making sure to cover every sore, swollen inch of his backside. She even focused on the edges of the welts, where the strap had left angry, raised stripes, watching with satisfaction as Ethan jerked with each slap, his entire body wracked with helpless shudders.

Rachel tapped her chin in amusement. “You know, the way he’s reacting, you’d think you were using something worse than just your hand, Hannah.”

Hannah beamed. “I know, right? I mean, look at this poor thing!”

She landed another firm crack! right over the base of his sit spots, relishing the way Ethan howled and kicked his feet uselessly.

“Flailing, kicking, are you going to beg me, Evan?”

“Please, ma’am! Please! Enough, please!” he begged.

“I don’t think so. I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson quite yet,” said Hannah.

Ethan let out a choked sob, unable to stop the miserable, whimpering noises escaping him.

Rachel smirked, watching him carefully. “Hmm. I don’t think he deserves to make so much noise. Should we gag him?”

Hannah let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh no, absolutely not. I love hearing him whimper. I think it makes the lesson stick better.”

Rachel chuckled. “You may be right.”

Hannah delivered one last flurry of brutal slaps directly over the center of both cheeks, before finally—finally—pausing.

Ethan trembled violently, his entire body overcome with pain and humiliation. He let out a choked, hiccuping sob, his face pressed into the couch cushion, his lower legs still weakly twitching.

Hannah sighed dramatically, rubbing the heat radiating from his punished flesh. “Well. That was fun.”

Rachel smirked. “I bet it was.”

With a careless shove, Hannah unceremoniously dumped Ethan off her lap, letting him crumple to his knees in front of them. He barely managed to stay upright, his entire body shaking, his hands hovering hesitantly near his backside, desperate to rub the sting away.

Rachel cleared her throat meaningfully.

Ethan stood and snapped his hands behind his head, his entire body locking in place.

Rachel smirked. “Good boy.”

Gratitude

Hannah crossed her arms, tilting her head with a smug smile. “Well, Rachel, I think he should thank me, don’t you?”

Rachel nodded. “Oh, absolutely.”

Hannah’s grin widened as she turned her gaze back to Ethan.

“Go on, then,” she said sweetly. “Tell me how grateful you are.”

Ethan swallowed hard, fresh humiliation washing over him.

“Th-thank you, ma’am,” he croaked, his voice weak, his face burning.

Hannah pouted mockingly. “That’s all?”

Ethan trembled. “Th-thank you for… correcting me, ma’am,” he stammered.

Hannah tilted her head, her arms crossing over her chest as she smirked at Ethan’s trembling form. “Hmm,” she mused, tapping her fingers against her elbow. “I don’t think I quite like that phrasing, Ethan.”

Ethan swallowed, his pulse pounding in his ears. His entire body burned—his backside from the relentless spanking, his face from the sheer humiliation of being laid bare before them. He could feel their eyes raking over him, their amused, composed presence making his exposure feel all the more unbearable.

Hannah leaned forward slightly, her lips curling into a wicked grin. “What do you mean I corrected you? That’s awfully vague. Be specific.”

Rachel smirked over the rim of her teacup. “Yes, Ethan,” she drawled, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Tell Hannah exactly what she did to you. Every detail.”

Ethan’s stomach twisted into knots. His throat felt tight.

“I…” He hesitated, his voice shaking.

Hannah’s eyebrow lifted. “Go on,” she encouraged, her tone sickeningly sweet.

Ethan let out a shuddering breath, his fists tightening behind his head. “You… you s-spanked me, ma’am,” he stammered.

Hannah let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, obviously,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “But how did I spank you, Ethan? What did it feel like?”

Rachel smirked. “Don’t leave anything out.”

Ethan wanted to sink into the floor. His skin prickled with fresh mortification, every word they coaxed out of him making his punishment feel all the more degrading. But he knew there was no escaping this.

He swallowed hard. “You… y-you put me over your knee, ma’am,” he stammered, his face scorching.

Hannah nodded, her smirk widening. “Mmmhmm. And then what?”

Ethan’s knees wobbled. “Y-you… spanked my b-bottom, ma’am,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hannah let out a little giggle, exchanging a look with Rachel.

“Oh, Rachel, he’s blushing,” she teased, biting her lip. “Isn’t that just adorable?”

Rachel smirked, sipping her tea. “Absolutely precious.”

Ethan’s hands trembled where they rested behind his head. His penis and testicles also trembled as his knees shook. His body was locked in place, but every nerve inside him was screaming at him to run.

Hannah tapped a finger against her chin. “You know, I think I remember more details than that, Ethan,” she teased. “Didn’t I hold you in place? Didn’t I have to trap you like a little boy who couldn’t lie still?”

Ethan’s stomach churned. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he croaked.

Rachel chuckled. “I think you’re forgetting a few things, darling. What about all that squirming you did?”

Hannah beamed. “Oh, that’s right! You really put on a show, didn’t you, Ethan? Kicking, squirming, practically howling over my lap, and all from just my hand.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling under their scrutiny.

Hannah giggled. “Come on, Ethan,” she crooned, reaching forward to pat his cheek mockingly. “Tell us how much it hurt. I want to hear it.”

Ethan’s breath hitched, his body flinching at even the light touch of her fingers.

Rachel smirked. “We’re waiting.”

Ethan let out a shaky whimper, his entire body locked in humiliation. His voice barely broke through the lump in his throat.

“I-it h-hurt s-so bad, ma’am,” he stammered, his words a miserable whimper.

Hannah’s grin widened. “Aww, did it?”

Ethan’s body burned hotter. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he choked out.

Hannah sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Poor thing,” she mocked. “So helpless over my lap, getting your poor, little bottom smacked until you couldn’t take it anymore.”

Rachel snorted, setting down her tea. “If I recall correctly, you couldn’t take it, could you, Ethan?”

Hannah gasped in mock surprise. “Oh, that’s right! You begged me to stop, didn’t you?”

Ethan’s stomach plummeted.

His lips trembled.

“I…” He hesitated.

Hannah leaned in, her grin absolutely wicked. “Say it.”

Ethan’s body shuddered. “I-I… b-begged you to stop, ma’am,” he forced out, his voice breaking.

Hannah laughed, the sound ringing through the room like music.

“Oh, Rachel,” she said through her giggles, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun before.”

Rachel smirked, crossing one leg over the other. “You should come by more often.”

Hannah grinned, leaning back into the couch. “Oh, don’t worry—I will.”

She tilted her head, watching the way Ethan knelt there, trembling, utterly destroyed, his face red, his shame dripping from every pore.

She sighed in satisfaction.

“Well,” she mused, lifting her teacup once more, “I think that lesson finally sank in.”

Figging

Rachel smirked. “Oh, I don’t know,” she mused, her sharp eyes locking onto Ethan’s ruined, swollen backside. “Maybe we should give him another hour in the corner, just to be sure.”

Hannah set down her teacup with a mischievous smirk. “You know, Rachel,” she mused, stretching her arms lazily, “I don’t think just standing in the corner is quite enough after what he’s done.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

Hannah grinned, tilting her head toward Ethan’s trembling, bare form. “He’s already gotten the benefit of a little reflection time, but I think we should make it a bit more… shall we say, stimulating?”

Ethan’s stomach twisted. His skin prickled under their scrutiny.

Rachel smirked. “I like the way you think.” She leaned back into the couch, crossing her legs elegantly. “What did you have in mind?”

Hannah’s grin widened as she tapped a finger against her chin in mock thought. “Oh, just a little something to reinforce his lesson. Since he couldn’t keep his hands off himself, I think it’s only fair that one of his… problem areas gets a little reminder.”

Rachel caught on immediately, her smirk growing. “Ah. You mean a nice, fresh ginger root? Like Mom used to do?”

Ethan’s stomach plummeted. His knees felt weak.

Hannah beamed. “Exactly.” She turned to him, her eyes gleaming. “Tell me, Ethan, have you ever experienced a figging before?”

Ethan’s breath hitched. His body shook at the very thought.

“N-no, ma’am,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hannah let out a mock gasp. “No? Oh, Rachel, we have to fix that.”

Rachel chuckled, standing up smoothly. “I actually happen to have a lovely piece of ginger in the kitchen. Perfectly fresh.”

Hannah clapped her hands together. “Oh, wonderful! Why don’t you go prepare it while I get him into position?”

Rachel smirked, patting Ethan’s cheek condescendingly as she passed him. “Don’t go anywhere, darling. I know you’ll behave while I’m gone.”

Ethan’s body locked up, his face burning with shame.

Hannah hummed happily, turning back to him with a wicked gleam in her eye. She strolled forward, circling him like a predator savoring its prey.

“You know, Ethan,” she mused, tapping a finger against his bare shoulder, “it really is shocking that Rachel hasn’t done this to you before. A boy like you? One who touches himself like a dirty little pervert?” She tsked, shaking her head. “Honestly, this should have been done long ago.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his hands still locked behind his head, his entire body stiff with dread.

Hannah smirked, trailing a lazy finger down his spine. “You’re awfully quiet, Ethan,” she teased, her hand dipping lower. “Are you nervous?”

Ethan clenched his jaw. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Hannah grinned. “Ohhh, you should be. Now, get up off your knees, spread your legs, and bend over.”

His breath hitched. His knees wobbled as he stood.

Hannah arched a brow. “Did I stutter?”

Ethan swallowed hard. His hands trembled behind his head.

Hannah’s voice took on a sharper edge. “I said, bend over and spread ‘em.”

Ethan let out a soft, shaky breath, his stomach knotting as he obeyed, parting his legs and folding at the waist, his hands sliding downward toward his toes.

Hannah let out a delighted hum. “Ohhh, perfect.” She circled him like a predator, her eyes sweeping over the way his punished backside jutted out vulnerably, his legs trembling, his most private area completely on display, dangling between his spread legs.

Hannah reached out, running a slow hand over the furiously red surface of his backside, tracing over the bruises and welts with a featherlight touch. Ethan flinched, a strangled whimper escaping his lips.

“Aww,” she mocked. “Is someone still sore?”

Rachel returned a moment later, holding a freshly peeled ginger root, its surface smooth and glistening. She held it up for Hannah to inspect. “Perfect,” she declared. “Lovely work, sister. Now, let’s make sure this lesson really sinks in, shall we?”

Rachel smirked, twirling the root between her fingers before glancing at Ethan’s shaking frame. “Now, how should we do this?”

Hannah crouched down, gripping Ethan’s chin between her fingers and forcing him to look at the peeled ginger in Rachel’s hand.

“Take a good, long look at it, Ethan,” she murmured, her voice thick with amusement. “Because in just a moment, you’re going to feel every inch of it.”

Ethan let out a shuddering breath, his stomach twisting into knots.

Rachel took her time, circling behind him, her fingers brushing over the furious redness of his backside before parting his cheeks deliberately. Hannah joined her behind him.

Ethan’s breath hitched.

“Here, let me,” Hannah said, spreading his ruined cheeks with both her hands.

Hannah watched his reaction, her grin widening. “Oh, he knows what’s coming,” she cooed. “Look at him—trembling already.”

Rachel chuckled. “Good. That means he’ll learn even faster.”

Hannah’s sharp eyes flicked between Rachel’s steady hand and Ethan’s quivering, exposed bottom hole. A wicked grin curled on her lips.

Ethan let out a soft whimper, his entire body rigid with humiliation. He could feel Hannah’s presence, feel her parting his cheeks, watching, so close she could probably see every tiny twitch and involuntary movement as he clenched in dread.

“Careful now, Ethan,” Hannah cooed, tilting her head playfully. “If you squeeze up too much, it’s just going to hurt more.”

Ethan swallowed thickly, his breath uneven.

Hannah’s grip on his cheeks tightened, her fingers spreading his bruised cheeks apart, exposing him fully. The cool air sent a fresh wave of shame washing over him.

Rachel sighed in delight. “Oh, that’s just perfect,” she murmured. “So open. So vulnerable.”

Hannah smirked. “Ready?”

Rachel’s grin widened. “Oh, I am. The question is—” She leaned in slightly, her eyes flicking down to the peeled ginger root she held poised at Ethan’s most sensitive entrance. “—is he?”

Ethan’s stomach dropped.

Rachel chuckled. “Oh, I know he isn’t. But that’s hardly the point.”

And with that, she pressed the tapered tip of the ginger directly against his tightly clenched opening.

Ethan jerked violently, a strangled gasp escaping his throat.

Hannah giggled. “Ohhhh, he felt that.”

Rachel smirked, pressing a fraction harder. “Relax, darling,” she murmured. “You want this to go in smoothly.”

Ethan whimpered, his thighs trembling. His hands grasping his ankles.

Hannah watched intently, her lips parted in anticipation as Rachel slowly, methodically, eased the ginger root forward.

The slick, cool surface began to stretch him open, inch by inch, pressing deeper with unrelenting determination.

“Ohhh, look at that,” Hannah whispered, her eyes gleaming. “It’s going in so nicely.”

Ethan let out a shuddering breath, his body rigid, every nerve screaming in humiliation.

Rachel twisted the ginger slightly, working it deeper.

Ethan whimpered.

Hannah’s grin widened. “Awww, poor thing,” she teased. “Does it feel funny?”

Rachel smirked, sliding the root another inch inside.

Ethan’s knees buckled.

Hannah let out a delighted gasp. “Oh, Rachel, he reacted! That must be the good part.”

Rachel hummed in approval, pressing the ginger the last few inches, fully seating it in place.

Ethan let out a soft, choked noise, his face burning, his body trembling.

Hannah tilted her head, admiring the view. “Mmm. Perfect.”

She released his cheeks, giving the base of the ginger root a light tap.

Ethan twitched.

Hannah grinned. “Ohhh, it’s already starting, isn’t it?”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, he’ll be feeling it a lot more in a few minutes.”

Hannah giggled. “Mmm, I can’t wait to see that.”

She straightened, stretching her arms lazily before settling back onto the couch.

Rachel gave Ethan’s bottom a final, condescending pat. “Now, stand up, back to the wall, hands behind your head, darling. And don’t you dare squirm.”

Hannah sipped her tea, watching as Ethan obeyed unquestioningly.

“Oh, this hour,” she purred, “is going to be so fun.”

The Burn

Ethan stood trembling, his hands locked behind his head, his forehead nearly pressed against the cool surface of the wall. His entire body was burning—not just from the brutal spanking Hannah had delivered, not just from the lingering sting of Rachel’s strap, or the earlier hairbrushing, but from the slow, insidious heat building inside him.

At first, it was only an odd tingle. A strange, foreign sensation deep within his most private place, something intrusive and humiliating, but tolerable. But within moments, the real punishment began.

A slow sting crept through him, a warmth that quickly turned into a burn. His insides clenched involuntarily, his muscles squeezing around the ginger root as though his body was trying to expel it—only to make the fire worse.

He let out a strangled whimper, his knees trembling.

“Ohhh,” Hannah cooed from the couch, her voice dripping with amusement. “I think it’s starting to hit him, Rachel.”

Rachel sipped her tea, glancing at Ethan’s quivering frame. “Mmm. I see that. He’s shaking already.”

Hannah giggled. “How’s it feel, Ethan?”

Ethan clenched his jaw, swallowing thickly, trying desperately to keep still. But the burn inside him was growing hotter, spreading deeper, an unbearable sting blooming from the very place he was most ashamed to be touched.

He bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut.

Hannah tsked, shaking her head. “Oh, come on,” she teased. “I asked you a question. Tell me exactly how it feels.”

Ethan sucked in a breath, his body shuddering.

“I-it b-burns, ma’am,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rachel smirked. “Louder.”

Ethan whimpered. “I-it burns, ma’am,” he repeated, his voice cracking.

Hannah giggled. “Awww, poor thing.”

Rachel tilted her head, watching as Ethan’s toes curled against the floor, his legs twitching slightly.

“Oh, he’s really feeling it now,” she mused.

Hannah grinned. “Ohhh, yes, he is.”

Another wave of heat rushed through Ethan, the burn intensifying, spreading deeper. His breathing quickened, his muscles twitching, his thighs pressing together in a useless attempt to suppress the sensation.

And then, without meaning to, he squirmed.

Just a small shift of weight, a tiny, involuntary movement—but Rachel caught it instantly.

Her voice was sharp. “Did I just see you move?”

Ethan froze. His stomach plummeted.

“N-no, ma’am,” he whispered.

Hannah snorted. “Ohhh, he’s already lying,” she giggled. “That means it’s really getting to him.”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. I think so, too.”

She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs, her sharp eyes locked onto him. “Well, Ethan,” she mused, “if you’re going to wiggle so much, maybe we should help you along.”

Hannah perked up. “Ohhh, I love that idea!”

Rachel smirked. “Go on, Ethan. Dance for us.”

Ethan’s face burned hotter than ever. His breath caught in his throat.

Hannah giggled. “You heard her,” she cooed. “Go on. Let’s see you wiggle that poor, punished bottom of yours.”

Ethan whimpered.

But the fire inside him was growing unbearable. He could feel the ginger’s juices working deeper, setting his most private, shameful place alight. His body jerked involuntarily, his knees wobbling, his hips shifting against his will.

And then—he moved.

A tiny step. A frantic, desperate shifting of his weight, an attempt to escape the burning, unbearable sensation inside him.

Hannah clapped her hands together in delight.

“Ohhh, Rachel, look at him go!” she laughed. “He’s dancing!”

Rachel chuckled, sipping her tea. “Mmm. Just like I knew he would.”

Ethan couldn’t stop. His legs twitched, his hips shifting, his bottom wiggling desperately as the ginger’s sting deepened, setting every nerve on fire.

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, this is just precious,” she crooned. “A big, grown man, wiggling his hips like a naughty little schoolboy, all because his bumhole is on fire.”

Ethan let out a choked sob, his humiliation absolute.

Rachel smirked. “Oh, I told you, Hannah,” she mused. “Boys like him always break so easily.”

Hannah grinned. “Ohhh, and I love watching it.”

Ethan let out another strangled whimper, his legs twitching uncontrollably as the fire burned hotter, deeper, unbearable, inescapable.

Hannah tilted her head, watching him squirm. “Awww, Ethan,” she purred, “what’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”

Ethan gasped. “I-it b-burns, ma’am,” he sobbed.

Hannah beamed. “Mmm. That’s the point.”

Rachel sighed dramatically. “Well, he wanted to feel something down there,” she teased. “I suppose we’re just helping him.”

Hannah laughed. “Oh, exactly!”

Ethan squirmed harder, his feet shifting, his bottom clenching desperately—but every movement just made it worse. The ginger’s oils spread deeper, the fire intensified, and he was powerless to stop it.

Hannah grinned. “Mmm, Rachel, I could watch this all day.”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, Hannah.” She lifted her teacup to her lips, watching Ethan dance with delight. “We’ve still got fifty minutes left.”

Ethan sobbed.

And the sisters laughed.

An Involuntary Reaction

Hannah smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know, Rachel,” she mused, her voice silky with amusement, “I’ve read that figging can have… interesting effects on a man.”

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Oh?” she murmured, swirling her tea lazily.

Hannah’s grin widened. She turned her gaze back to Ethan, who was still trembling, still shifting, still desperately clenching to contain the unbearable burn within him.

“Oh, absolutely,” she continued, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “I’ve read that sometimes, when a naughty boy is figged, the sensation can be… confusing.”

Ethan froze, his stomach dropping.

Rachel tilted her head, watching as the color deepened on Ethan’s already humiliated face.

“Confusing?” she echoed, a slow, knowing smile curling her lips.

Hannah nodded, her eyes never leaving Ethan’s quivering form. “Mmmhmm. It’s all about how the nerves down there are connected. When the ginger starts working deep enough, it can make a man’s body react in ways he doesn’t want it to.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. A fresh wave of horror flooded through him.

Rachel chuckled. “Ohhh, I see.” She set down her teacup, her fingers lightly tracing the rim. “So what you’re saying, Hannah, is that poor little Ethan might be feeling more than just the burn?”

Hannah giggled. “Oh, I think so.” She leaned forward, tilting her head, her voice dropping into a coo. “Tell me, Ethan… are you feeling something else, too?”

Ethan’s throat went dry. He shook his head frantically. “N-no, ma’am,” he croaked.

Rachel’s smirk deepened. “Ohhh, I don’t believe you.”

Hannah let out a delighted laugh. “Neither do I!” She clapped her hands together, giddy with excitement. “Oh, Rachel, this is too good. Just look at him—he can barely stand still, but I bet that’s not the only thing he’s struggling with.”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper. The burn was unbearable, but now, added to his humiliation, was an even greater horror.

Because Hannah was right.

It was a sick, humiliating betrayal of his own body, something he had no control over, something that made his shame ten times worse.

Rachel’s eyes sparkled with cruel amusement. “Ohhh, Hannah,” she purred, “do you think we should check?”

Ethan’s stomach clenched. “P-please, ma’am,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper.

Hannah grinned. “Awww, Rachel, did you hear that? He’s begging.”

Rachel chuckled. “Mmm. He’s already at that stage.” She stood up, stepping closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “But I don’t think we should take his word for it.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. His whole body tensed.

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, I love science experiments.”

Rachel smirked. “And I love catching naughty little boys in embarrassing situations.”

She reached for Ethan.

And he squeezed his eyes shut.

Because there was no way out.

And his humiliation was just beginning.

Rachel’s smirk deepened as she reached out, taking a firm grip of Ethan’s arm. “Turn around,” she ordered, her voice sharp, cutting through the charged air like a blade.

Ethan’s breath hitched. “P-please, ma’am,” he whispered, every ounce of his humiliation crashing down on him.

Hannah let out a delighted giggle. “Ohhh, Rachel, he sounds so ashamed,” she crooned. “Which means we definitely need to see.”

Rachel’s fingers tightened on his arm. “I said turn around, Ethan.”

Ethan’s stomach clenched. His whole body burned—not just from the ginger’s unforgiving fire, but from the unbearable humiliation flooding his veins. Slowly, hesitantly, he shuffled his feet, turning fully.

And Hannah gasped.

“Oh. My. God,” she burst out, clapping a hand over her mouth before dissolving into laughter. “Rachel, look at him!”

Rachel let out a slow, amused hum, taking in the sight before her.

There he stood, hands still locked behind his head, face burning redder than ever, his most shameful betrayal fully on display.

A hard, desperate, undeniable reaction.

A humiliating proof of what his own body had done to him.

Rachel cocked her head, dragging her gaze up and down his trembling form. “Ohhh, Ethan,” she murmured, her tone dripping with mock pity, “you really should’ve told us.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his knees shaking. “I-I d-didn’t mean to,” he choked out.

Hannah cackled. “Ohhh, I bet you didn’t,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “But your body sure had other plans, didn’t it?”

Rachel sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Honestly, Ethan,” she mused, “it’s almost impressive. And here I thought you were suffering.”

Hannah giggled. “Mmm, well, in a way, he is,” she cooed. “But ohhhh, Rachel—look how hard he is.”

Ethan whimpered.

Rachel let out a thoughtful hum. “Mmm. That’s a very strong reaction,” she mused.

Hannah grinned. “Oh, definitely. And it proves what I was saying before, doesn’t it?” She waggled her eyebrows. “That sometimes, a poor, spanked, figged little boy can’t help but get excited.”

Rachel smirked. “Ohhh, it certainly does.” She trailed her eyes lazily down his body again, letting the weight of his humiliation sink in. “And poor Ethan here just proved it to us.”

Hannah leaned back, shaking her head in delight. “Ohhh, Rachel, I can’t,” she giggled. “I mean, look at him! Standing at full mast, like a naughty little schoolboy caught peeking into the girls’ showers.”

Ethan let out a strangled sob, every ounce of his shame consuming him whole.

Rachel chuckled. “Mmm. And he knows he can’t hide it.”

Hannah grinned. “Nope! Not at all.”

She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with something wicked.

“I wonder,” she mused, “how much worse it can get.”

Rachel smirked. “Ohhh, I think we should find out.”

Recreating the Deed

Rachel crossed her arms, her smirk deepening as she tilted her head, studying Ethan’s trembling, humiliated form. His full, shameful arousal was on display, his hands still locked behind his head, his eyes squeezed shut as if he could will himself out of this nightmare.

But Rachel wasn’t about to let him hide.

“Hannah,” she murmured, her tone dripping with amusement, “I think we need to get to the root of the problem.”

Hannah’s grin widened. “Ohhh, I love the sound of that,” she purred. “And what is the root of the problem, Rachel?”

Rachel chuckled, stepping closer, her eyes never leaving Ethan’s burning face. “Well,” she mused, “we know why Ethan’s here, don’t we?”

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, we do. But maybe he should remind us.”

Rachel’s smirk turned sharp. “Oh, I agree.” She turned her gaze back to Ethan. “Go on,” she ordered. “Tell Hannah why you’re standing here like this. Tell her exactly what got you into so much trouble.”

Ethan swallowed thickly, his entire body trembling with mortification. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I… I t-touched myself, ma’am.”

Hannah gasped dramatically, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ohhh, Ethan,” she cooed, shaking her head. “Such a naughty boy. And I do believe he was warned, wasn’t he?”

“Ohhh, several times,” Rachel giggled.

Hannah sighed, shaking her head as if she were truly disappointed. “And yet,” she mused, “he just couldn’t help himself, could he?”

Rachel grinned. “Mmm. Clearly not,” she said, her voice turning sharp, “And since he loves touching himself so much… I think he should show us.”

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. His stomach plummeted.

Hannah let out a delighted laugh. “Ohhh, Rachel, that’s perfect.”

Rachel turned back to Ethan, her smirk widening. “Go on, Ethan,” she ordered. “Put your hands where they really want to be.”

Ethan’s entire body stiffened. “P-please, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice breaking with shame.

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, Ethan, you don’t want to disobey her, do you?”

Ethan’s breath came in quick, panicked gasps. The burn from the ginger still searing through him, the humiliation of his arousal still throbbing, but now… now this.

He hesitated—

Rachel’s voice was sharp. “Now, Ethan.”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper.

And slowly, shamefully, he moved his hands.

Hannah let out a delighted squeal. “Ohhh, Rachel, look at him go!”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. He’s obedient when he wants to be.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his hands rubbing awkwardly, his entire body burning with humiliation.

Rachel clicked her tongue. “Oh, no, no, no,” she chided. “That’s not good enough.”

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, no. If you’re going to be naughty, Ethan, you’d better do it properly.”

Rachel smirked. “Show us exactly what you did when you thought no one was watching.”

Ethan let out a choked sob.

And with his stomach twisting in mortification… he obeyed.

Hannah gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. “Ohhh, Rachel, he’s actually doing it!”

Rachel chuckled. “Mmm. Of course he is.” She leaned back, watching with amusement as Ethan’s movements were stiff, hesitant, utterly humiliated.

Hannah tilted her head. “Awww, Rachel,” she cooed, “he looks so ashamed.”

Rachel smirked. “Ohhh, he should be.”

Hannah giggled. “And yet…” She waggled her eyebrows. “His body’s still enjoying it.”

Ethan let out a strangled sob, his entire soul burning with shame.

Rachel sighed dramatically. “Honestly, Ethan,” she mused, “if you wanted to play with yourself so badly, you should’ve just asked. I might have let you, and even supervised like now.”

Hannah giggled. “Mmm. But I think this is so much better with me here.”

Rachel smirked. “Ohhh, so much better.”

She took a slow sip of her tea, her sharp eyes never leaving Ethan’s trembling, humiliated form.

And she smiled.

Because this punishment was far from over.

Humiliating Completion

Rachel’s smirk deepened as she watched Ethan tremble, his hands shaking, his entire body flushed with shame as he obeyed her humiliating command. His movements were awkward, hesitant, filled with mortification—but he was doing it.

Hannah giggled, crossing her legs as she leaned back. “Ohhh, Rachel, this is just too good,” she cooed. “Look at him. Red as a tomato, but his body still wants it.”

Rachel hummed, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Mmm. But I think we can make this even better.”

Ethan swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting with dread.

Rachel pushed herself off the couch, stretching lazily. “Keep going,” she ordered, her voice sharp, commanding.

As if he had a choice.

Hannah’s grin widened as Rachel sauntered out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor. “Ooooh, Ethan,” she cooed, tapping a finger against her chin. “I wonder what she’s getting.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his shame unbearable.

Hannah giggled. “Awww, you don’t want to know?”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper.

Moments later, Rachel returned, something glinting in her hand.

Hannah gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. “Ohhh, olive oil?!” she squealed.

Rachel smirked, twisting off the cap as she stepped closer to Ethan’s trembling form. “Well,” she mused, “if he’s going to do such a filthy thing, we might as well make it… easier for him.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. “P-please, ma’am,” he whimpered.

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Please?” she echoed.

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, Rachel, do you hear that? He’s begging again.”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. Too bad he’s begging for the wrong thing.”

And with that, she tilted the bottle—

And let a slow, deliberate drizzle of oil drip onto his shamefully hard length.

Ethan gasped, his entire body jerking at the sensation.

Hannah let out a delighted squeal. “Ohhh, Rachel, just look at him!”

Rachel chuckled, watching as the oil dripped down, glistening, coating him in its slick warmth.

“There,” she murmured, stepping back, admiring her work. “Much better.”

Ethan let out a choked whimper, his entire soul burning with mortification.

Hannah grinned. “Ohhh, Ethan,” she crooned, “now be a good boy… and keep going.”

Ethan’s stomach plummeted. A strangled sob caught in his throat. And with his body trembling, his shame unbearable… He obeyed.

Hannah gasped in delight. “Ohhh, Rachel, look at him go now,” she giggled. “He’s so desperate.”

Rachel smirked, crossing her arms. “Mmm. And he knows he has no choice.”

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, but the best part?” She leaned forward, her grin wicked. “Even if he hates it… his body loves it.”

Rachel hummed. “Mmm. And that’s what makes it so humiliating.”

Ethan let out a choked sob, his slick fingers trembling as he continued his shameful task.

Rachel smirked as she watched Ethan struggle, his entire body trembling, his slick fingers moving in slow, humiliating strokes. His face was burning, his chest heaving, every ounce of his shame weighing down on him like an unbearable burden.

Hannah giggled, tilting her head as she admired the sight. “Ohhh, Rachel, this is priceless,” she crooned. “A grown man, standing there, doing something so filthy… all because we told him to.”

Rachel chuckled, taking another slow sip of her tea. “Mmm. But I think he’s taking too long.”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper. His hands froze.

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Did I say you could stop?”

Ethan sucked in a breath, his hands moving again, his movements stiff, awkward, utterly humiliated.

Hannah giggled. “Awww, poor thing,” she cooed. “He hates this.”

Rachel smirked, glancing at her watch. “Well,” she mused, “he’d better hurry up.”

Ethan’s stomach plummeted.

Rachel’s eyes flicked back to him, her smirk widening. “You have two minutes, Ethan,” she announced while looking at her watch, her voice crisp, commanding. “Or else the strap comes back out.”

Ethan gasped, his breath catching in his throat.

Hannah squealed in delight. “Ohhh, Rachel, you’re so mean,” she giggled. “I love it. But now he really has to work for it.”

Ethan let out a choked sob, his hands moving faster, his entire body shuddering with humiliation, desperation, panic.

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, look at him go now!”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. Amazing what a little motivation can do.”

Ethan’s face burned hotter than ever, his slick fingers moving in frantic, jerky motions. His shame was unbearable. His mind screamed at him to stop. But the threat of the strap loomed heavy in the air.

He had no choice.

Rachel clicked her tongue, glancing at her watch. “One minute.”

Ethan let out a desperate whimper. His hands moved faster, his legs trembling, his stomach twisting in mortification.

Hannah cackled. “Ohhh, Rachel, he’s really panicking now!”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. Maybe he should’ve thought about this before he decided to be such a naughty little pervert.”

Ethan gasped, his breath ragged, his whole body on the brink of breaking.

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Thirty seconds.”

Ethan let out a strangled cry, his panic reaching a fever pitch.

Hannah was giddy with delight. “Ohhh, Rachel, I don’t think he’s gonna make it!”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. Well, if he doesn’t…” She sauntered over to the table, picking up the strap, letting the thick leather snap against her palm.

Ethan flinched.

Rachel’s smirk widened. “Then we start all over again.”

Ethan let out a desperate sob, his slick hands working in frenzied, humiliating motions.

Ten seconds.

Five.

Rachel tilted her head looking closely at her watch. “Tick, tock, Ethan.”

Ethan let out a strangled gasp—

And then it happenned.

Hannah squealed in delight. “Ohhh, Rachel, look at him!”

Rachel chuckled, watching as Ethan convulsed, his shame complete, his body betraying him in the most humiliating way possible.

Ethan’s breath hitched in his throat as the wave of humiliation crashed over him. His slick, trembling fingers faltered, his entire body locking up in one last, desperate, uncontrollable convulsion. A strangled gasp tore from his lips as he broke, his body giving in to the unbearable tension that had been forced upon him.

It spilled over his fingers in thick, pulsing ropes, coating his palm in a warm, sticky mess. His knees buckled slightly as another involuntary shudder wracked through him, his mortification only deepening as the evidence of his shame dribbled down onto the cool hardwood floor. The droplets splattered against the polished surface, stark and glistening beneath the overhead lights, each one a damning testament to his complete and utter degradation.

Ethan let out a choked sob, his stomach twisting as he stared down at his own trembling, soiled hands, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps. The room was silent for only a moment—just long enough for the weight of his disgrace to sink in—before Hannah let out a delighted squeal.

“Ohhh, Rachel, look at that mess,” she giggled, pointing at the sticky streaks trailing from his fingers to the floor.

Rachel hummed, tilting her head as she gazed down at the evidence of his ultimate humiliation. “Mmm. Disgusting,” she murmured, her tone laced with amusement.

Ethan whimpered, his face burning hotter than ever, his hands frozen in front of him, dripping with his own shame.

Hannah snickered. “Ohhh, Rachel, I think he should clean that up, don’t you?”

Rachel smirked. “Oh, absolutely.”

She turned her sharp gaze back to Ethan, arching a single, expectant brow.

“Well?” she drawled. “Get to it.”

Clean Up

Ethan’s breath came in ragged, broken gasps as he stood there, his trembling hands still coated in his own disgrace, the shameful mess dripping down onto the pristine hardwood floor. Every inch of his body burned—not just from the ginger’s relentless fire still searing within him, not just from the strap’s lingering sting on his raw, punished bottom, but from the sickening weight of his complete and utter humiliation.

Desperate to escape their gaze, he swallowed thickly and turned toward the kitchen, his shaky legs barely supporting him as he began taking slow, hesitant steps.

Rachel’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Ethan froze. His stomach twisted violently.

“I-I w-was going to g-get some p-paper towels, ma’am,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

A sharp, delighted giggle erupted from Hannah. “Ohhh, isn’t that adorable?” she cooed. “He thinks he gets to clean up his filthy mess like a normal person.”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. Isn’t that precious?”

Ethan’s breath hitched, his stomach lurching with a fresh wave of dread.

Hannah’s eyes sparkled with cruel amusement as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Ohhh, Ethan,” she purred, “I think you forgot something.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his legs trembling. “F-forgot what, ma’am?”

Hannah grinned. “That you’re not a person right now,” she teased. “You’re a filthy little dog.”

Ethan’s heart stopped.

Rachel chuckled. “Mmm. And what do dogs do when they make a mess?”

Ethan’s entire body stiffened. His breath came in short, panicked bursts. “P-please, ma’am,” he whimpered, horror flooding through him.

Hannah answered for him. “They lick up their messes. That’s what dogs do.”

Ethan shook. His stomach twisted.

And then—

Snap.

Rachel brought the strap down hard against her palm, the sharp crack making Ethan flinch violently.

“On your knees!” she commanded.

Ethan let out a strangled whimper, his entire soul breaking.

But he obeyed.

His knees hit the hardwood floor with a soft thud, his head hanging in shame.

Rachel tilted her head, her sharp eyes locking onto Ethan’s shaking form. “Well?” she mused. “What are you waiting for? Start with your disgusting dog paws.”

Ethan let out a broken, desperate sob.

“P-please, ma’am,” he begged.

Hannah cackled. “Awww, Rachel, do you hear that? He’s begging again.”

Rachel hummed. “Mmm. But he’s still wasting time.”

She stepped closer, towering over his trembling form.

“Clean. Your. Paws.”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper, his stomach twisting violently.

Rachel snapped her fingers. “Clean them.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. His heart pounded.

Hannah grinned. “Ohhh, yes, Ethan,” she cooed. “Since you act like a dog when you touch yourself, it’s only fair you clean yourself up like one.”

Rachel hummed. “Mmm. Dogs don’t get paper towels, do they?”

Hannah smirked. “Nope! They lick.”

Ethan let out a desperate, broken sob. “P-please, ma’am,” he whimpered.

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Did I ask for more begging?”

Hannah giggled. “Nope! You asked for licking.”

Rachel sighed. “Now.”

Ethan let out a shuddering breath, his stomach churning, his hands trembling in front of him.

Then, slowly—hesitantly—his tongue darted out.

The moment it touched his own slick palm, his entire face twisted in sheer mortification. His nose scrunched, his lips trembled, his eyes squeezed shut as a fresh wave of disgust rolled through him.

Hannah squealed. “Ohhh, Rachel, did you see that? His face is priceless! He hates it!”

Rachel chuckled. “Mmm. Then maybe he should’ve thought about that before stroking himself like a mutt in heat.”

Hannah cackled. “Ohhh, exactly! Dogs don’t get to be ashamed, Ethan,” she teased. “They just clean up after themselves.”

Ethan whimpered, his tongue dragging across his palm in slow, hesitant strokes, each movement filling him with a deeper, heavier humiliation.

Rachel smirked. “Every last drop.”

Ethan sobbed but obeyed, his tongue lapping at his hand, the taste of his own disgrace making his stomach roil.

Hannah grinned. “Look at him go! Like a pathetic little puppy.”

Rachel hummed. “Mmm. And he knows it, too.”

Ethan’s left hand was next.

His face contorted in horror, his lips parting in a silent, desperate plea for mercy. His throat bobbed, his entire body shuddering—

Rachel snapped the strap against her palm. “Hurry up!”

A strangled sob caught in Ethan’s throat, as his tongue touched his left palm, working in slow, agonizing strokes, each one filling him with a deeper, more unbearable disgrace.

Hannah smirked. “Ohhh, but he’s not done yet.”

Rachel hummed. “No, he’s not.”

She flicked her gaze toward the hardwood floor, where several humiliating droplets still glistened.

She arched an eyebrow.

“Well?” she mused. “Finish the job.”

Ethan choked on a sob.

Hannah cackled. “Awww, is puppy too ashamed?”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. He wasn’t too ashamed to act like a dog. But now he doesn’t want to clean up like one?”

Hannah giggled. “Ohhh, that’s not fair, Ethan. You don’t get to be a filthy mutt when it’s fun and then a not be when it’s time for consequences.”

Rachel smirked. “No, no. You’re still a dog, Ethan. And dogs lick.”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper, his entire soul breaking—

But he obeyed.

He lowered his head.

His lips hovered just above the floor, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts, his entire face twisted in sheer, unbearable disgrace.

Hannah squealed. “Ohhh, Rachel, he can’t do it! Look at him! His lips are shaking!”

Rachel chuckled. “Mmm. He’s realizing what he’s become.”

Ethan let out a muffled sob.

Rachel sighed.

Snap.

She whipped the strap against his upturned ass.

And then—

His tongue touched the floor.

Hannah gasped dramatically. “Ohhh, Rachel, he’s actually doing it!”

Rachel chuckled. “Mmm. Of course he is.”

Ethan shuddered, his tongue pressing against the cool hardwood, the taste of his own disgrace flooding his mouth. His face contorted in horror, his stomach twisting violently, his entire body locking up in sheer, undiluted shame.

Hannah squealed with laughter. “Ohhh, I can’t—Rachel, this is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen!”

Rachel smirked, watching as Ethan lapped at the floor like a filthy, broken mutt, his tongue working in slow, degrading strokes.

“Well,” she murmured, “he is a pathetic little mutt.”

Hannah giggled. “Mmm. And mutts clean up after themselves.”

Ethan let out a muffled sob, his tongue dragging against the floor, each second stretching into an eternity of humiliation.

Rachel crouched down, reaching out to pat his trembling head.

“Good boy,” she cooed.

Excused

Rachel let out a satisfied sigh, standing tall as she gazed down at Ethan’s trembling, broken form. He was still on all fours, his face hovering just above the hardwood floor, his lips glistening with the shameful remnants of his own disgrace. His breath was ragged, his entire body shuddering with exhaustion, the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him like an anchor.

Hannah stretched lazily on the couch, a wide, delighted smirk curling her lips. “Ohhh, Rachel,” she purred, “I really don’t think he’ll ever forget this.”

Rachel chuckled, tilting her head. “Mmm. That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Ethan swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting violently, his hands still curled into tight fists against the floor. The ginger’s insidious burn still seared through him, the raw sting of his spanking throbbed mercilessly, and his shame hung heavy in the air, suffocating him.

Rachel let the silence stretch just long enough to make him wither beneath it. Then—

“You may be excused.”

Ethan scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly stumbled, his legs shaking beneath him. He swayed unsteadily, his head bowed, his hands trembling at his sides.

Hannah giggled. “Awww, look at him shake,” she teased. “I think we broke him.”

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. Good.”

She took a step closer, her voice turning crisp, cool, dangerous.

“But let me make one thing very clear, Ethan.”

Ethan stiffened. His breath caught in his throat.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “You will never—ever—defile our house again.

Ethan’s stomach plummeted. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely more than a breath.

Rachel hummed. “I didn’t hear you.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He forced himself to speak louder, though his voice still quivered with mortification.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he choked out.

Rachel smirked. “Mmm. Good boy.”

Hannah giggled, giving him a mocking little wave. “Bye-bye, Ethan,” she cooed. “Try not to be such a filthy little pervert next time.”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper, his entire body burning with shame as he turned on unsteady legs, eager to escape, desperate to breathe—

But then—

He hesitated.

His stomach twisted. His throat tightened.

He could still feel it.

The ginger.

Still lodged deep inside him, still burning, still making every movement unbearable.

His breath caught in his throat. His hands twitched at his sides.

And then, in the smallest, most broken voice—

“M-ma’am?”

Rachel lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Ethan swallowed. “T-the ginger… m-may I…?”

Hannah let out a delighted gasp. “Ohhh, Rachel,” she giggled. “He wants to know if we’ll take it out for him.”

Rachel smirked, crossing her arms. “Mmm. I suppose that would be fitting, wouldn’t it?”

Hannah waggled her eyebrows. “Ohhh, we could make it special,” she teased. “Have him get back on all fours, let me tug it out nice and slow…”

Ethan whimpered, his knees nearly buckling at the thought.

Rachel sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Unfortunately for you, Ethan,” she mused, “I think you’ve been pampered enough for one day.”

Ethan’s stomach twisted in dread.

Rachel smirked. “You may pry it out yourself in the bathroom.”

Ethan let out a choked sob of relief.

Hannah smirked. “I’d take it nice and slow if I were you.”

Ethan let out a broken, desperate sob.

Rachel exhaled a slow breath, stepping back, watching as his hands twitched, as his entire body shook with humiliation, pain, dread.

And just as he turned, just as he reached for the door—

Rachel’s voice rang out one last time.

“Oh, Ethan?”

Ethan froze.

His breath hitched. His heart stopped.

Slowly—hesitantly—he turned his head, his wide, tear-filled eyes meeting hers.

Rachel smirked.

“Be a dear…” she mused, “and close the door behind you.”

Ethan let out a strangled whimper.

And with his humiliation complete—

He slipped out the door, closing it behind him.