How does a 56-year-old former advertising executive end up
(and I do mean end up!—My end!) as the slave-husband of a
domineering wife who still goes to work five days a week as a
secretary in his old office? Two years ago, I was distinguished,
self assured, and totally macho. Now, I’m a red assed, sniveling
wimp. She is smart looking, well coiffed and tailored, and always
Frankly, I still don’t believe it happenned but I don’t have a
lot to say about it these days so I just live with it as best I
I was always taken by Joan Morgan’s good looks. Joan was
about 35 when I first met her at work, a nice looking woman who
somehow excited me whenever I heard her high heels tapping their
way toward me down the hall. I like long dark hair, I like a mature
woman who is on the thin side and has a good figure and I
especially like a woman who dresses in conservative but somehow
sexy looking clothing the way Joan does. Our dating was fairly
conventional and when I married Joan just two years before my
retirement at 55, we had had a fairly ordinary and not very
adventurous pre-marital sex life. She did let me stick my finger
in her anus when I was fucking her. Other than that, sex was
Now I have had spanking fantasies ever since I was nine years
old. That’s when the head counselor at Camp Kebo had bent me over
the desk in his office for a bare-bottomed paddling with the camp
nurse looking on. “Miss Klein is here to make sure your punishment
is not medically damaging” the head counselor said, but I think
they were screwing and this is the way they got it on. That idea
came from the heavy breathing I heard from inside the office
afterward while I was forced to stand outside with my camp shorts
and underpants around my ankles and my red behind exposed to the
world. But that’s another story.
Anyway, not long after I married Joan, I began playfully
patting her on the bottom whenever I got the
opportunity—sometimes while she was on top while we were fucking,
sometimes just as we were doing things around the house, and
frequently, after my retirement last year, as she dressed in the
morning to go to work while I prepared to head off to the golf
It was one of those morning “panty pats” as I called them,
that did me in. We were in the bedroom and I was still in my pj’s.
Joan was fully made up but just wearing her bra and panties and I
couldn’t help giving her a thwack on her cute little heinie when
suddenly she turned furious.
“CUT IT OUT!” she said to me angrily with an expression of
rage I had never seen before on her face, “Or, get this straight
Mr.—I’LL CUT IT OFF!”
“Sure, dear, I was only kidding around,” I said limply,
astonished by her fury, but Joan soon made clear she was interested
in more than apologies.
“Get out of those pajamas and get down on the floor naked on
your hands and knees with your ass up in the air!!!” she shouted at
me. Meekly I met her demand. Joanie emerged from the bathroom
with hairbrush in hand, and before I knew what was happenning she
was flailing away at my rear end until I found myself begging her
to stop. When she finally did, I was a different person than I had
been just minutes before. Her bottom thwacking had reduced me to
the status of emotional jelly fish and I knew that from that moment
on, Joan could have her way with me in any way that she wanted.
Unfortunately, she knew this too.
“Get this through your head, wimp,” she said to me, “You can
forget about golf and lunch at the club from now on unless you get
special permission from me, and that, I can guarantee you, will
cost you dearly. Beginning today, I expect a call from you at the
office around noon every day when you can tell me what you are
fixing for dinner. I expect you to izmit escort bayan meet me with Martini in hand,
mine, you ass-hole, when I get home from work, and we’ll discuss
the rest of your domestic schedule and what kind of discipline you
can expect if you don’t meet it when we have dinner tonight. Now
get in the corner and shove your limp little cock up against the
wall and stay there until I finish dressing and get out of here,
you dumb shit!”
I found myself strangely aroused as Joanie continued to dress
and she was hardly out the door before I began whacking off and had
one of my best in-hand orgasms ever. That’s about the only kind of
orgasms I do have these days unless Joan is in an unusually good
mood. She is always “too preoccupied with other matters” during
the week, and on weekends I have to service her with my tongue, “on
demand.” There are a number of other items that have been added to
my agenda and I have to admit that she knows that I will do
virtually anything she asks. This is because she frequently checks
it out by asking me what I would do while holding my cock. I can
scarcely lie about what I will and won’t do under these
circumstances because she can easily tell if I’m lying.
“How would you like to come in the bathroom and lick me clean
after I pee?” She said to me, for example, and my immediate
hard-on gave her her answer. How about getting down on your hands
and knees and sticking your tongue up my shit-hole, dearest?” She
said, and the reaction was such that she had me doing it before I
could even think of protesting.
The one thing I had going was that at least my humiliation was
a private matter and that made it easier to live with. At least
that is what I thought until what I call “The New Order” began
about a month ago.
It started on a Saturday morning. Saturday is generally
punishment day around our house, so when Joan woke up with a
curious smile on her face, I knew I was in for something.
“Hurry and dress, dear,” she said to me in her sweetest voice.
“After we’ve had breakfast and you’ve done the dishes we’re heading
over to K-mart. I’m going to get a little surprise for you.
This did not sound good. Joan had been talking about hot
enema punishments for about two weeks and I was sure she was going
to get some equipment and go to work on my poor overworked behind.
As a matter of fact, that was one of the items on the agenda at
K-mart, but it was not the only one.
Joan looked unusually sexy in her tight white short shorts and
red silk blouse as she sauntered down the aisles in the K-mart in
her red high heel open toed platforms, with me of course, bringing
up the rear. The shopping list was not too pleasant as far as I
was concerned. Along with the enema hose she picked up one of
those children’s paddles with a red rubber ball attached—I knew
what that was for—some K-Y jelly, certainly for no good purpose,
a dog collar and leash and a doggie bowl, which would not seem too
upsetting except that we have no dog, and, a number of pairs of
very large very lacy pink panties. It was this last item that
really had me concerned.
Certainly, the panties were not for Joan—they were much to
large for her, and as we approached the check out counter it struck
me that perhaps she intended for me to wear them! I have to say
that despite all the humiliation I was suffering, this struck me as
just a bit too much.
While I may get turned on by a bit of over the knee spanking
and ordering around from my pretty wife, there is nothing gay or tv
about me and the thought that she might put me in those panties was
extremely upsetting. I was even more upset when we got to the
check out counter. The check out girl was a pretty blonde about 20
years old, and she nodded at Joan in recognition. As she was
checking izmit eve gelen escort out the various items I think I detected the trace of a
smirk on her face. When she got to the very large panties, it was
obvious that she knew something about what was going on here. She
held them up in the air, and then said to Joan, “You mean you’re
really going to do it?”
Joan smiled at her in a funny kind of way and I suddenly
sensed that this little blonde girl knew about my humiliation.
“Talk to you later,” said Joan. I know I was blushing like a
teenager, but little did I know what that really meant.
As we were driving back in the car (Joan always did the
driving while I sat alongside her—she claimed I was too rotten a
driver to trust) I asked her, “Who was that in the K-mart?”
“Oh Jeannie is just a girl I know,” said my wife. “Don’t you
think she’s cute?”
“Yes, I said,”
“Well maybe you’ll get to know her better, dear,” Joan said in
a way that made me uncomfortable.
“What are those big panties for?” I asked.
“Don’t ask dumb questions, you little shit,” my wife said
angrily. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Please,” I begged, “Don’t make me put them on.”
“Oh don’t be an ass-hole,” said Joan, “you’ll love them and
you know it. Now just shut up about it or you’ll be sorry.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Joan, reaching over and grabbing my
cock and squeezing it. “Suppose you just grab on to your little
pee-pee there and your balls and play with yourself for the rest of
the way home, while you think how cute your going to look with your
ass in the air in those little pink panties.
I turned bright red.
“Now do it!” she said, “but I’m warning you now, if you come
in your pants you’re going to be eating din-din out of that doggy
bowl bare assed naked for the rest of the week, and without using
your hands. Why you’ll look just like a little puppy.”
That thought really scared me, so I played with myself as she
had ordered, but although my hand was all over my cock and balls
there wasn’t much pleasure in it.
When we got to the house, Joan took the packages and headed
upstairs. “Get in the bathroom and strip off all your clothes,
and get down on the floor in there,” she said. “we’re going to
start the day with a nice little enema up your ass to make sure
it’s nice and clean for me.”
I did as she said and in no time at all a giggling Joan was
inserting the rubber tube into my anus. She had taken the rubber
band off the wooden rubber ball paddle she got at K-mart and began
whacking my bottom as the enema proceeded. I was soon reduced to
tears of humiliation.
“Now take a shit and clean yourself really well,” Joan ordered
me, “then come into the bedroom and stand at attention til I tell
you what’s next! And no dawdling, do you hear me?”
“Yes dear,” I said meekly, seating myself somewhat gingerly on
the toilet (my bottom was already sore), as she looked on
“Any dawdling and there’ll be some extra surprises,” said Joan
meaningfully as she left the room.
When I returned to the bedroom I found Joan sitting on the
bed, still fully dressed in shorts, blouse, and high heeled
platform shoes. She had the wooden paddle in her right hand and
was tapping it against the open palm of her left hand and looking
at me with that very stern look of hers.
“Well sweetie,” she said, “all cleaned out behind? Get down
on your hands and knees and pull your cheeks apart so I get a good
look at your ass hole and your balls.”
Naked and embarrassed, I did as she said. She strode over to
me and grabbed my testicles and gave them a squeeze that made me
yelp. Then she stuck her finger deep into my asshole.
izmit otele gelen escort “Remember when you used to do that to me?” She said. “Well if
you’re a good little boy today, I may let you stick your tongue in
my anus and lick my shit. For now, you can lick my finger, just in
case you didn’t get yourself perfectly clean.”
I did as she ordered. “Suck it!” she said. “Just like you
want to suck my ass hole you little piece of shit!”
I could feel her piercing eyes as I sucked her finger but I
was afraid to raise my own eyes and meet her gaze. Finally she
“Now comes the part we’ve all been waiting for,” she said.
“Get into these pink panties. And no complaining! Do it now!”
I did as I was told, feeling like an absolute idiot. A grey
haired man in his fifties standing naked in the middle of his
bedroom except for a pair of very lacy pink panties draped around
his middle. Joan couldn’t keep from giggling.
“Cute!” she said. “You look real cute in your little girl
panties! I may just get you some other girlie clothes like a dress
and some stockings to parade you around in you cute little thing.”
“Please please don’t,” I said, my face reddening. “I find
this terribly humiliating.”
“Doesn’t seem that way from the size of your prick, you
disgusting animal.” It was true, my erection was enormous. “I
know what,” said Joan. “Pull your little pink panties down for me
for a moment. That’s good. Now take your pee pee and tuck it
between your legs so it will look like you have no prick at all and
a little cunt there. Do it!”
I did as I was told.
“Good. Now pull your panties up and get over here for an over
the knee spanking.”
I draped my body over Joan’s shorts with my bottom sticking up
and my feet and hands on the floor. There was a brief moment of
silence, then the swish of the paddle through the air.
Thwack! “Count them out you little shit,” said Joan.
“Oooh..one….two….ooh please not so hard…thurEEEEEEeeee”
Joan was swatting harder and harder and by the time I got to
25 I was crying like a baby.
“Ohhh my poor baby,” said Joan. “Does baby’s heinie hurt?
Pull down your pink panties and let mamma see.”
I lowered the silken underwear to my knees.
“Uhhhmmm. Looks like some more would do you some good.”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
With Joan’s last comment she began a rapid rain of blows on my
poor suffering bare bottom. I was crying like a baby. Finally the
blows stopped. She patted my rear end gently for a few minutes,
then began running her finger tips over my exposed anus. My prick
began to stiffen again.
“Don’t you dare soil my shorts,” said Joan. “You’ll pay for
it in spades if you do! Three more enemas and then you can wash
every pair of panties I own by hand while standing bare ass naked
over the kitchen sink!”
I controlled myself as best I could. Joan ordered me to stand
and pull up my pink panties. Then I was made to stand in the
corner and shake my bottom like a hootchie kootchie dancer.
Finally, Joan got up and left the room, telling me I could dress
and come downstairs when I chose, but to keep the pink panties on
for the rest of the day.
After lunch, Joan had me drop my trousers while I washed the
dishes and goosed me several times through the silk of my panties.
Then she had me go upstairs while holding my trousers up to get the
paddle. I was paddled again in the living room on my panties and
forced to drop them to my knees so she could inspect the damage.
She paddled me some more on my bare behind until I was crying. Then
she made me kneel and kiss the paddle. After that I was pretty
much left to my own devices for most of the afternoon while Joan
read a book. I was just beginning to wonder what I could expect at
cocktail hour when the doorbell rang.
“Get that, will you dear?” said Joan in her sweetest voice.
Immediately I was on my guard.
(To be continued)