Halloween Pranks

This is a story I wrote last month and had scheduled to be posted the night before Halloween, however I somehow messed up the scheduling aspect and it was never posted. So here is a little belated Halloween story.

Halloween is the best holiday of the year. There is no debating it. There is a slight chill in the air, revitalizing you after long hot summer. Couple that with the parties, the decorations and the sweets and you have a spectacular month of celebrations. And, it is the only time of the year where you can dress up as a complete slut and no one gives you a second look. Well, the creepy guys do, but they always do. Whether you are naughty nurse with two tiny strips of fabric covering the vital areas or a frumpy mother of two with no makeup and in baggy sweats.

All of those points are just icing on the cake to the best part of Halloween, pranks. The “treat” portion of trick or treating is good, but the trick portion is much, much better. There are few things better in life than pulling of the perfect prank. The culmination of a hundred little steps in the look of shock is unlike anything else. The receiver of my pranks where not as always so receptive. As a kid, I just assumed I was grounded from Halloween until about Thanksgiving, and every year it was worth it.

This year I had one of my better pranks planned out. George was going to be out of town on business the week of Halloween, not to return until the morning of the first, which meant the kids were mine. I had yet to pull any of my master pranks on the kids, but it seemed right year to indoctrinate them.

Being four and six, they had yet to understand the intricacies of this wonderful holiday, and instead focused just on the candy. Will had been planning his costume since labor day, building a really good replica of R2D2 out of a trashcan, just some cardboard, paint and a bunch of his dad’s help. George had somehow gotten a copy of the original plans for the studio and helped him build it exactly like the movies.

I took Friday off work to attend Gina’s class party in the morning and then Will’s in the afternoon. They both looked so adorable. Gina had choose a little Cinderella dress with matching plastic “glass” slippers. I swear, half the girls in her class chose to one of the two characters from Frozen. Her party went pretty much as expected, especially when any “sweets” were banned and replaced fruit and veggies. The other mothers actually made a bigger fuss than the kids.

Gina tagged along to Will’s party, which he didn’t particularly like, but it didn’t cause any harm. Will’s class allowed sweets, but only ones acceptable to all kids. This meant gluten free, sugar free, peanut free, round pieces of cardboard were handed out as “cookies.” I almost bust out laughing at the face Gina made when she tried one. Ever the miss manners, she struggled to finish the horrible desert.

After school the kids wanted to immediately go trick or treating, and were quite annoyed when they had to wait three hours, as well as eat dinner. We spent about an hour walking around the neighborhood, with them trying to get candy from every house, insignificant of the porch light being on. At the end, Will wanted to continue, even through he was starting to struggle with carrying his heavy bag of candy.

I poured the candy from their two bags into one big pile on the kitchen island. Holding the big bowl in my left hand, I quickly picked out the good pieces around the edges. Will and Gina watched with baited breath while I sorted out the good candy and the suspicious pieces. I was about a third of the way done when I sat the bowl between them and said “OK, you can choose one piece to eat tonight.”

I turned my head to sort out a few more good pieces and when I looked back, both of the kids were chomping away. I had to glance around the bowl to make sure they had actually removed the wrapper before inhaling the sweet.

After sorting out the suspicious stuff, including a tiny baggie of cut celery, I carefully placed the overflowing bowl into the oven for safe storage. Two pairs of little eyes followed their treasure all the way to it’s storage space, making sure mommy didn’t try and steal any. It was so adorable, and so perfectly naive for my upcoming prank.

After I got the kids in bed, I sent my plan in motion. I had bought a second, big blue bowl yesterday and dug it out of the closet where I had hid it. Removing their candy from the oven, I pull out an old cookie tray and lined it with aluminum foil. I then set the second bowl of candy on the try and returned it to the oven. Cranking it up to 450, I figured the bowl would be a heap of plastic in no time.

I was correct. Fifteen minutes later I had a mushy pile of blue plastic that had the slightest resemblance of a bowl. I pulled it out of the oven and decorated the top with the wrappers of the candy I had ate while waiting for the bowl to melt. It looked perfect mistake. I replaced the melted bowl in the oven when it had cooled down and went to bed, eagerly waiting for morning.

—-

“MOM! MOM! OUR CANDY!” Will yelled, as he shook me awake.

“Hu? What do you mean?” I said, not immediately realizing what he said in my semi-drozy state.

“Out candy is all gone!” Gina cried beside her brother.

My prank came back in a flash. “No, it’s just in the oven, where you saw me put it last night,” I faked rubbing sleep from my eyes.

“Com’on see!” Will tugged me down to the kitchen, barely allowing me to grab my robe along the way.

“It’s all gone,” Will blubbered, dropping to his knees in front of the open oven. The kids were not supposed to get in the oven without my permission, but that rule had been obviously overlooked before I woke up.

“Oh no, what could have happened?” I faked concern, holding my hand over my mouth to prevent the kids from seeing the grin I knew was going to be overtaking my lips soon.

Will stared at the pile of melted blue plastic, blubbering some nonsense. Gina, on the other hand had quietly stepped back from the bowl, seemly in shock. I did my best to cover the giggle I could feel building inside when I heard Gina in the living room.

“Yes 911 I need help!” Gina cried into the receiver.

“Oh shit!” I mumbled, running for the living room.

“OK, honey, just try to calm down…” I heard coming from the phone as I reached her. I immediately separated Gina and the receiver.

“Sorry, everything’s OK. My daughter just misunderstood something.”

“Ma’am, who is this?” the 911 operator demanded.

I spent the next few minutes trying to convince her that everything was ok and or disregard the crying she heard in the background. I was fearful of police showing up at any minute and busting down our front door.

After getting off the phone, I scolded Gina for her poor usage of 911 then told the kids it was all a big joke. This was the point were I started to think about George’s opinion of my prank. I tried to pacify the kids with some extra candy, but they were still annoyed with my prank that they ratted me out to George when he got home.

And that is why I am here. Nose to the corner, waiting for George to finish a few emails and come upstairs.

—-

“Come here,” George commands. I scamper over to his side, hoping to go over his knee, rather than be sent over the end of the bed. He sits down on the edge and I start laying myself over his offered lap when he stops me. “Not so fast. Does my baby know why she is being punished?”

His tone is soft and comforting, but reeks of disappointment. It sent a chill through me, and not the good, excited kind, but the “I’m scared of what is going to happen” kind. “Yes, sir” I mumble, looking down at this sock covered feet.

“Good. Then you can go over there and bend over and grab your ankles.” George motions to the center of our bedroom.

I hate getting spanked bending over and grabbing my ankles. It makes me feel like such a naughty little girl. That feeling probably came from the Halloween when we went in paired costumes; I as a naughty school girl and George as the strict headmaster. The sex that night was spectacular, even if it involved him pounding away at my freshly caned bum.

I step to the prescribed spot and reach down for my toes. The once easy task of touching my toes is hindered by my reduced flexibility from age and two children. I feel all the muscles start to strain across my thighs, then up towards the peak of my body. The skin stretches taught as I grab a hold just above my ankles before closing my eyes and waiting. I do not want to know what a waits my bottom.

The whistle of air is the only indication that he has started. I try to brace for the impact but I am a millisecond too late. As is typical, the first stroke overwhelms my senses, as it rushes from my bottom, down my spine to my brain. My eyes flash open as I try to scream, but instead I can gulp for a new breath.

I am more prepared for the second stroke, gritting my teeth and sucking in air as now recognized cane cuts into my bottom. I take the third and fourth strokes as well as the second one. On the fifth one he catches me low one the cheeks and I let out a little squeak. The sixth one is lower still and I let my displeasure with its placement be known through low, drawn-out “ouch!”

George breaks his steady pace. I can feel him moving closer to my hips and I can only think of him taking me from behind. Rather, I am hoping he will take me now. A quiver runs through my pelvis and I’m sure my hips quake.

He dances his fingertips across my stripped bottom and I clench every muscle in my pelvis. “Do you think you have been punished adequately?” George asks, dancing his fingers close and closer to my ache.

“Yessssss,” I coo, hoping he will move south.

“Well, I don’t think so. Another half-dozen seems warranted,” he says, removing his fingers. I groan at his intention to continue, but I know better than to openly complain, especially in my current position. “But first.”

“Ahhh,” I gasp as he touches me again. This is the best part of being naughty.

Indecision leads to mistakes – Spanket

This is part of the Spanket series. The first part is “Joining the Competition“.
March 25th, 10:47pm

SWAT! “Owe!” Jessie cried out more from surprise than pain. She had been to focused on the little screen to notice Nate shuffling around in bed to give her a spank through the blankets. The spank sent her into overdrive, exiting the mail app and stuffing the offending device under her pillow.

“What did I tell you about using you phone?” Nate asked, pulling the blankets down her back.

“I’m sorry,” Jessie pleaded as she started to roll over.

“Nut uh, I think you need a reminder,” he chided.

“Awww, but it’s late!” Jessie pouted.

WACK! Nate spanked her panty-clad bottom. “That’s why you shouldn’t be playing on your phone.”

“Honneeyyy,” she whined.

WACK! “Do I need to go over to the dresser?”

“No,” she answered quickly. The dresser meant an implement and she did not think he had one currently within reach. Unless he wanted to use a pillow, which she would eagerly accept.

“Then get those panties down and stop whining,” Nate commanded, sitting fully upright.

“Yes, sir,” Jessie mumbled as she reached down to bare her bottom without getting up. They inverted themselves as she wiggled the undergarment as far down her thighs as her finger tips could reach. With his target exposed, she folded her arms under the pillow where she buried her head. She was in no mood for anything more than his hand, so she focused on holding in any yelps to prevent him from implementing one of their newer rules; making a fuss from a hand spanking automatically earned her the paddle.

Nate started with a few quick, sharp swats, testing the coloration of her white mounds. The quick reddening told him exactly what he had guessed, she hadn’t been spanked enough lately. “Well I can fix that,” he thought to himself, slowing his rhythm to a steady pace of mild swats.

Jessie growled into the pillow when she realized the reduction in intensity. She knew the softer spanks would allow him to keep up the pace forever. Well it would seem like forever to her, as the sting slowly compounded into a mountain. She was half tempted to start fussing about, and get him to give her the paddle or belt in stead. At least they would be over quickly, once he started with them. It was the logical choice, but logic had no room in Jessie’s mind at that moment as the fear of the burn from the paddle or belt filled up all the available space.

Nate spanked away at his wife’s bottom, slowly covering every inch of it three times, before his hand hurt too much. He slapped it down hard in the center and held it in placed, absorbing the heat her skin was radiating. It was hot, though not as hot as he would have preferred. He briefly considered switching hands, but the clock caught his eye. 11:04 was late enough. “Are you going to play on your phone at night again?”

“No,” Jessie mumbled, pulling her head from the pillow to try and look towards him.

“Good, now lets get to bed,” Nate stated, pulling the blankets back over her bottom. He shifted the blankets on his side, sliding down low enough for her to easily hold him. He hadn’t figured out why, but after sex or a spanking, she loved cuddling up close to him and falling asleep.

Jessie wiped the tears from her eyes before rolling on her side, facing Nate. She shimmied her hips backwards as she snuggled up to his chest. Two red cheeks poked out from the blankets, into the cool bedroom air, as the couple drifted off to sleep. The last thing Jessie thought was “I am not getting spanked again soon!”

Three Ghosts of Halloween, Part IV

This is the fourth, and final part, of the Three Ghosts of Halloween story. It begins with Part I and continues with Part II and Part III.

It took me forever to find Brittany. The people in the living room said she was in the kitchen while the people in kitchen said she was in the living. Finally someone mentioned she had went down to the basement to get some more wine. It taken 15 minutes of searching before I finally found her a storage room in the basement.

“Hey, Bethany’s being attacked by Jake!” I exclaimed.

“What?” Brittany was clearly shocked by my statement. “Attacked?” She probably had more to drink than me, so logic wasn’t her strong suit at the moment.

“Come on, I’ll show you!” I took her hand, and led her upstairs to the master bathroom. During the winding trip upstairs, I started questioning why I had searched for Brittany over Rick or Adam. Either man would have been able to put an instant stop to Jake’s actions. They had meet when playing football in college as walk-on linebackers and neither had lost much of their physics since college.

When we got to the master bedroom, I went straight for the bathroom door, while Brittany held back slightly. Throwing open the door exposed the completely empty bathroom. By this point I figured Jake would have fled, but Bethany also?

“She was right here!” I swear. “And Jake was beating her like some child.”

“Ah, are you sure?” She questioned. The bathroom was obviously empty.

“He was, I swear! She was over his lap with her panties pulled down and was slapping her bottom!”

Brittany blinked slowly as if what I said had relaxed her in some way. “Why don’t you sit down so we can talk.”

“We need to find her, make sure she’s safe!” Why didn’t she want to search for her sister?

“Please, sit. I know what is going on.” Brittany took a seat on the end of her bed and gently patted the spot next to her.

Something wasn’t right. Why was she so calm? Didn’t she worry for Bethany’s safety?

“Please,” she repeated.

I reluctantly obeyed, perching tentatively on the edge of the bed.

“Have you and Adam ever had a disagreement that simmered for days? The conflict slowly eating away at you until you finally burst into a full blown fight?”

“No…” I lied. What do Adam and my martial issues have to do with Bethany? I currently was a little annoyed with Adam for forgetting to get tickets to last weekend’s symphony concert, but that didn’t matter right now.

“Are you sure?” She asked again. “Because my students can lie better than you.”

“Maybe,” I relented, waving my hand off dismissively.

“Doesn’t the emotional strain draw every bit of energy from you?”

“Yea, but arguing is kind of fun, and the makeup sex is so worth it. So what?”

“The sex is so good because you no longer have this great burden weighting you down, preventing you from feeling life.” She licked her lips as I could tell she was contemplating her next words carefully. “Some people…. Some of us have been wise enough to embrace clear, crisp solutions to martial conflicts. Going over our man’s lap and being spanked happens to be a more prevalent and successful solution.”

I think my jaw hit the ground at that moment. “You’re kidding me,” I shook my head dismissively. Spanking conflicted with everything I had been taught growing up. Men are supposed to respect women, not beat them.

“I’m not kidding. It may seem like a juvenile punishment, but between a husband and wife it is much more complex. More intimate.” Brittany explained.

“Bethany gets off on it? Like a fetish?” I asked. Fetishes were something I never really understood. I didn’t really like anything strange in the bedroom department. Just straight making out and intercourse.

“I sincerely doubt she receives any sexual pleasure during a punishment spanking. It is also not a fetish in the way feet or latex. Like I said it is more complex. You are offering yourself up to be disciplined. After which all your sins are washed away and you feel pure, innocent again.”

I cocked my head to the side trying to comprehend what she was saying.

“Remember before Adam, when you broke up with your last boyfriend who broke up with you?”

“Nope, I always dumped them.” She raised her eyebrow questioning my truthfulness again. “Ok, fine. I remember.”

“Right afterwards you were a mix of emotions; anger, sadness, confusion, etc? Then the first thing you did when you got home was cry your eyes out over a pint, or two, of Hagen Dais?”

“Yea. Rocky road was break-up go to.”

“Cookies and Cream here. Once the tears were all gone, that fog of emotions had parted and you could barely remember why you even liked the guy?”

“Yea.” Where was she going with this?

“Getting spanked is a conduit for that emotional release. You are forced to cry all those pent-up emotions out through your tears until the real you is left. The you that loves your husband with every ounce of your being.”

“Hmm. but it”

“You are offering yourself to be disciplined. Abuse is non-consensual. There is nothing abusive when you are consenting to it.”

“But…but…” I was reaching for some objectionable point, but she had already dismissed all of them.

“But you really won’t understand until you try it.”

I still wasn’t buying what ever she was selling.

“Oh, and the sex in the afterglow of a spanking is like ten times better than makeup sex.”

Now it was my turn to question her truthfulness.

“The spanking focuses your brain, and blood, on your hips area, making all your girly parts become ultra sensitive so the briefest contact.”

She paused for a long moment, offering me a chance to object, but I couldn’t think of any legitimate reason.

“I’ll think about it.” I conceded. The concept was intriguing, but still didn’t feel right. How could a modern woman like myself ALLOW a man to spank me.

“Good. And don’t worry about Bethany. I’m sure she’s fine.” Brittany stood up and started for the bedroom door. “Come on, it’s a party. Lets have some fun.”

I wasn’t in the party mood, but followed her downstairs nonetheless. I figured I should find Adam. I got to the top of the stairs when I realized I had never completed my original mission. I did a little pivot at the top of the stairs and returned to the master bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, all I could think of was Bethany laying over Jake’s knee and that bathbrush crashing into her bottom. Her bare bottom had been a mere four feet in front of my current position. The brush, still sitting on edge of the tub, sweeping down in a mighty arc. Her yelp of pain. Her plea of acceptance. I could swear I her say “Gloria, it is OK.”

A cold breeze traveled down my spine, wrapping around to tickle my most intimate parts. The responding shiver shook my entire body off the toilet.

My heart raced. Adrenaline surged through my veins. Everywhere I looked, the bathroom was empty. But someone had just spoke to me and something had just touched me.

Shucking up my panties, I waddled as fast as possible out of the bathroom, even skipping my normal hygiene routine. I was not sure what was going on, but I did not want to be in that bathroom any more.

A sound from the bathroom caused me to glance back as I flung open the bedroom door. The sound echoed again, this time more clearly audible.
It was the sound of wood rapping on soft, smooth flesh. The sound I heard earlier and it was following me,

I rushed through the doorway, still looking over my shoulder, straight into a younger girl.

“Careful!” the girl chided.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands up slightly, as if I was warding off an attack from her. The petite girl was dressed up like a NFL football player, complete with the black eye hashes. Underneath the costume, she looked eerily familiar. “Wait, aren’t you girl that was on tv today? The one involved in that homecoming party?”

“Yea, my FATHER was sharing all the gory details on tv.” she said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“Sorry.”

“It is ok, but you should be more careful in the future, otherwise you might end up the same situation as my friends and I.”

“Hu?” I asked.

“Learning a lesson the hard way. We can all learn lessons, even as we get older. Sometimes they hurt a bunch right now and are over with, while others drag on for days or more. Honestly, I prefer the quick sharp ones.” She shrugged her shoulders, then turned to go in the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

I took one step down the stairs when I realized the news report involved a town 15 miles away. Why would that girl be here, especially if she was in that much trouble?

Pausing, I leaned back around the corner looking down the hallway towards the guest bathroom. A man was leaving the bathroom while an older women entered. The girl was gone. It was as if she had vanished. Now were my eyes playing tricks on me too? Or was it something else?

She couldn’t have just vanished. It had to be a trick. Then everything clicked. The girl the news cast, the bathroom episode, Brittany’s lame excuse about Bethany consenting to being spanked. They were all in on it and trying to prank me. Well I would show them!

I continued downstairs, back into the core of the party. Everyone else were drinking, dancing and having a generally good time. Music filled the voids between the costume bodies.

Dancing though was the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. I was determined to figure out what was going on before they completed the prank. Then I could through a monkey wrench and screw everything up. Adam just better not be involved. He knows how much I hate pranks.

None of the obvious culprits seemed to be on the main floor, so they had to be hiding in the basement.

I contemplated playing dumb as I walked down the steep steps into he basement recreation room. I’d play dumb and see what information they leaked. “Yea,” I mumbled to myself, pausing to let a young woman dressed as Little Bo Peep pass. In my contemplations I only had a brief glance at the woman’s face, but a glance was my mind needed to careen down a new path. She was familiar, but I couldn’t place her name. It took a second and I realized she was the young woman from the Halloween store. If she was here, she was probably part of the prank also.

“Hey,” I called out turning to catch her. She stopped just short of the door, a good six feet higher than my current step. My eyes naturally raised up her legs, towards her head, but stopped dead at her bottom.

The costume was a standard over-sexualized version of the storybook character, complete with a low cut blouse on the top and extra short skirt on the bottom. The flare of her petticoats, and my low vantage point, provided me a sight straight up the back of her dress, to the underlying white nylon panties. Her panties do not hold my attention like the two crimson globes sticking out of the undergarment.

Ms. Bo Peep turned around and blushed, instantly recognizing me. “Oh, hi.”

Now that I had stopped her I had no idea where to take the conversation. I wanted information about what ever prank they were pulling, but I couldn’t just come out and ask about it, so I went for the next best thing. “You were in the Halloween store this morning,” I accused while climbing a up towards her.

“Yea,” she mumbled, twisting her patent leather clad right foot in the carpeting. “You saw, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Who was that woman with you? Your mother?”

“Yea..” she mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.

“I just can’t believe she would spank you at your age, or that you would allow it!”

“Well, I did deserve it,” she admitted, looking up, towards my face.

“What? Your a grown woman. You don’t deserve to be spanked like a kid.”

“Sometimes I do. I don’t like it but its ok.”

“It’s OK? Your as bad as the rest of them. Retrying to convince me spanking an adult is fine.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked with biggest fake puzzled look I had ever seen.

“You know, Brittany, Bethany, Jake, all of them. Brittany told me everything earlier. She said..”

“Bethany is spanked too!” She cut me off, covering her mouth in shock. This time it looked considerably more real than the last expression. “Wow, I didn’t know,” she said behind her hand.

“You didn’t know?”

“No….” she said.

“Then you aren’t in on the prank?”

“What prank?”

“Oh…” Now I was thoroughly confused. If she wasn’t in on the prank, why would she show me her spanked bottom, twice? “Then why were you half-naked in the dressing room?”

“Ah…because mom had just spanked me for wanting that silly leopard costume. I had been a brat towards her all morning and the fit I threw about the costume was the last straw. Sometimes it’s the only way I listen to reason. It really wasn’t that bad, more embarrassing because you heard me get it than painful.”

“But your bottom, it’s still an angry red.”

“Oh, yea…” She started blushing deeply again. “That was for this month’s credit card bill.”

I stared at her, waiting for more details.

“I’m still in college, Bethany and I are actually in the same Master’s program, so I live with my parents and they help financially while I finish my schooling. When Dad found out I maxed out my credit card eating out, he hit the roof. And his belt on my bottom.”

This time I covered my mouth in shock. “Ouch!” I mumbled.

“Yea, ouch big time. But it’s better than destroying the good relationship I have with my parents.”

“I guess. But then why are you here?” The obvious question to anyone recently punished.

“Bethany had asked me to help her with the catering, so it was fine with my parents. Normally I’d be grounded for rest of the day, but work takes precedent to punishments.” she smiled halfheartedly.

“Catering! That’s why the other girl was here!” I said realizing why the girl from TV would be at the party also. She must work for Bethany’s little catering business. “Well thank you for the information, and sorry about being spanked. I promise I won’t tell anyone, but I need to go find my husband.”

“Thanks,” she said, eager to leave our conversation.

Everything was starting to make sense. Brittany was using Bethany’s employees to trick me into getting spanked. I bet the next phase of their plan was to occur in the basement. Probably some trap to get me ‘into trouble’ and provide a reason. Well I’ll show them. They can’t spring their trap if I’m not here. I’ll grab Adam and we’ll head home. I’ll probably have to promise sex though. Ah, so what, it was worth avoiding the humiliation.

Just like Bo-Peep had said, half a dozen guys were standing around the pool table, drinking beers. Adam saw me as soon as I entered the room and with a wag of the finger, he came straight over to me.

“Honey, come on, I want to go home!” I made my best big puppy-dog eyes at him. They normally worked when I wanted something.

“Hu? why, it’s early.” Adam turned to look at the guys, who were making some kind of ruckus.

“Please?”

“Ah, honey,” He tossed back the last of his beer. “In a little bit.”

“But I want to go NOW!,” I whined.

“Well, once I finish this game. Rick and I are tied two-games a piece with Jake and Greg. We only got one more ball to win.”

“Jake?”

“Yea, Bethany’s fiance. The guy there in the batman costume. The four of us have been down here playing since we arrived.”

“The whole time?” I asked. Had they really lured Adam into their plot?

“Yea, why?” Adam asked, clearly confused. He was horrible at lying to me, and tonight, being well plied with alcohol was no exception.

“Hey, Adam, it’s your shot!” Rick called out before I could come up with some answer.

“Don’t worry, it’ll just take me a minute to win and then we can go.” Adam kissed me on the forehead and returned to the pool table.

Was this the trap? What was going to happen? I fidgeted the whole minute and a half it took Adam to sink the winning shot. They were here somewhere and I wanted to escape before whatever happened.

We just about made it out the door when we ran into Brittany and Bethany coming down from upstairs.

“You guys leaving?” Brittany asked.

“Yea, we are heading out.” Adam said, as nonchalantly as he could.

“Well I hope you liked the party.”

“It was a great party.” Adam complemented. “You out do yourselves every year.”

“Yea, great party,” I told Brittany, then added for Bethany, “You did a great job catering. Your employees were also really nice.” I leaned close to whisper, “And I won’t say anything about what I saw earlier.”

“Say anything? Employees? What are you talking about?” Bethany responded.

“You know, the football player and Bo-Peep?”

“Who? All my staff are at different parties. I’m here by myself tonight.”

“Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.”

We said our goodbyes and were off into the cool night air. The way Adam walked, something seemed to be bothering him.

“Why was it so important we leave early?” Adam asked

“Oh nothing,” I mumbled. “I just wanted to go.”

“It was quite rude though,” Adam let his annoyance with me come through in his tone.

“Sorry,” I apologized. He was right. He was always right when it came to us. It was one of those things I loved to hate about him. He always thought first, and acted second. Every argument we ever had as a couple was my stubbornness versus his, his, his correctness?

Nothing else was said until we safely home and in our bedroom. The whole walk my emotions were eating me up inside. How I had been a complete bitch to him ever since he mentioned the Halloween party 2 weeks ago. The complaining about the costume, and then getting us to leave early. His favorite holiday, and I had completely ruined it.

I’m such a bad wife.

Five words that went around and around in my head as I climbed the steps to our bedroom. Each word stabbing itself into my heart, the exorcise the pound of flesh it was rightfully owed. Twenty three steps and five words were all it took to make me feel worst than I had ever felt in my life.

I had to get rid of the pain, and now. But how?

One answer instantly filled my mind, barring everything else. It was extreme, but it would work. Wouldn’t it?

“Can we talk?” I ask Adam hesitantly once we were in the bedroom.

“What’s wrong now?” Adam sighed as he tossed his cape, wig and beard onto my makeup stand chair. He had already ditched the hat to the same chair, leaving him just dressed in the long white robe.

“Sit down please,” I asked, gesturing towards the bed. I bit my lower lip as he followed my instructions, sitting on the edge of the bed directly in front of me. Should I really do this? Could I do it?

“Yes?” he asked. I felt so small and he looked so large and regal in that flowing white robe. Wise and all knowing, like a King or a Bishop. Oddly, that put me slightly at ease.

I blinked once and just let my emotions flow. “I had a long talk with Brittany and Bethany tonight and I want to apologize for my bitchiness over the last week.” I looked at his lap the whole time. Maybe Bethany didn’t get spanked tonight, but the discussion with Brittany surely happened.

“Week?” Adam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine, the past month,” I mumbled. “They. hmmmmm, they enlightened me to a better way for us to deal with our disagreements, and hmmm, and I think we should start using their model.”

“Ah OK.”

I couldn’t think of anyway to say what I wanted to say. It was like my entire vocabulary had been reduced to that of a kindergartener. “I need spanking” was all I could think of but it sounded so wrong, and childish.

“Honey?” Adam asked.

“I, hmmm, I, hmmmm.” Still unable to articulate my thoughts, I simply went for the action route. Actions are supposed to speak volumes.

I took a half a step to my left, then turned and laid myself over Adam’s outstretched knees. At that moment I realized how awkward and uncomfortable it is to lay over someone’s lap. I kept teetering between having my hands, or my feet flat on the floor, never both.

“Ah,” I could hear him stuttered. What was he waiting for? Isn’t he just supposed to start swatting my bottom?

“Aren’t you going to spank me?” I asked quietly. Hadn’t Rick ever told him about he and Brittany?

“What?” Adam asked.

“You can spank me,” I said again, this time a bit louder.

“What do you mean, spank you?”

“Like Rick does to Brittany or Jake to Bethany.” Doesn’t he know how embarrassing this is for me.

“What are you talking about?”

Did he really not know? How could he not know? Rick and him are best friend. “Rick spanks Brittany when she is naughty, like I have been towards you.” I could hear him gasp at that revelation. He really didn’t know about their arrangement.

I started to push myself up, off his lap when a hand gently pushed my shoulders back down.

“Hold on there a moment. Help me understand this, Brittany is spanked when she is naughty and now you are jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous. I…I just want us to be happier, like them.”

“And you think spanking is the key to happiness?”

“No,” I immediately responded, though it felt awful wrong to lie at this moment. “Well….partially. Maybe it is what we are missing.”

“OK, then we will put this to rest right now.” I wish I would have caught the annoyance in his voice, but my stubbornness had become focused on achieving the goal of a spanking. I know, a crazy goal, but can be stubborn to a fault.

The first swat didn’t seem too bad. A light tingling sensation, really. The next few slowly increased to a slight sting, but were far from unbearable.

Maybe it was my lack of response, or Adam was starting to get into it, but the spanks became harder and harder until a strong one surprised a yelp out of me.

Adam paused for a moment, most likely to see if I would complain. I wanted to say it was too hard, but for some reason the harder spank had felt better than the tentative ones. More emotionally freeing than those gentle pats.

The spanks began to rain down again, this time with my unspoken consent, Adam was putting some force behind his hand. Force that I am sure he knew I was feeling. Each spank imparted a crisp sting to my skin, cause me to yelp with most every one.

Soon, I could feel the fire he was building on my bottom. Individual stingy spanks had blended together into a constant fire, much like how my yelps blended into a low continuous sob.

All the emotions I felt over the past day, week, month came flooding back. The snarky comments. The thoughtless actions. The blatant bitchiness. Everything was there, and everything was getting burnt away by the fire Adam was creating. I could have swore my cries of distress where just fueling Adam’s arm, fore every swat seemed stronger, and harder, yet more freeing than the previous.

I plead for forgiveness and the swats kept coming. I promised to be good, and the fire kept building. I begged him to stop, and the flow of tears increased.

At some point all the negative emotions that had been building inside me had flowed out through my tears along with all the energy I had to resist that spanking. And then it was over.

Adam eased me up and wrapped me in his arms while I buried my face into his chest. He felt so warm, not like the hot sun that my bottom currently feels, but like a cozy cabin on a cold winter day. Everything beyond his embrace is just an icy abyss. Within, was his caring, his thoughtfulness, his compassion, all that makes up his love for me. It was so warm and peaceful. Everything was alright.

I do not remember falling asleep, just waking up the next day, still holding my man, though carefully tucked below our covers. The room felt oddly cool at moment, but Adam was nice and warm. I never wanted to let him go. He was mine, and I would be his, forever and ever.

It was nearly noon before we made it out of the bedroom. It felt a little late for breakfast, but we were both hungry. I went for a yogurt cup while Adam went straight for the remaining pumpkin pie. Normally I would chide him for such an unhealthy choice, but this morning it seemed petty of me.

The expression Adam made after his first bite was priceless. It was some crazy mixture of him eating a lemon and bitters. I couldn’t help but laugh at the clearly unpleasant taste.

“Ewe. What did you put in this?”

“Just the normal stuff, pumpkin, spice, cinnamon, condensed milk, nutmeg, eggs.”

“Did you forget the sugar?”

“Hhmmm…” Shit I forgot the sugar. Flipping the yogurt covered spoon over in my mouth, I slowly licked it cleaned while I thought of a response. My normally sharp wit fled my mind like it was on fire. “Nooo, but….”

“But you weren’t thinking or you intentionally sabotaged the pies?” Adam paused for a moment. “Either way, we should deal with this naughtiness right away. The wooden spoon seems appropriate.”

Wooden Spoon!? Where did he get that idea from? I never said anything about a wooden spoon.

Final Period of My Wife’s Game Night

The story begins with My Wife’s Other Side is Released and continued with First Period of My Wife’s Game Night. and Second Period of My Wife’s Game Night.

Torture does not have to be physically painful. Emotional and psychological torture are just as bad, and according to current interrogation theory, more often much more effective at eliciting the desired response. Tonight, the four naked ladies in my kitchen were torturing me, or as close to such as I had ever experienced.

The game of kinky Sorry had continued after Kelly was knocked out without to much hoopla. Clothing came and went, but no one else got eliminated for a good fifteen rounds. I wasn’t counting, but seemed to go on forever with the girls just tossing off their blouses then putting it back on 2 rounds later. Since Kelly’s delivery, I had tried to avoid looking at the ladies. I’m a red blooded American Male and it took every ouch of control not to just stare. Especially with my wife’s implicit allowance.

“Honey, how is the hockey game?” Justine called out.

“Ah, not nearly as interesting as yours,” I yelled back, knowing she really did not care about the hockey game, rather than something else in mind. My wife is 95% innocent and angelic and about 5% scheming devil. Alcohol inverts those ratios.

“Then why don’t you come over here then?”

“O fuck!” was all I could think. My brain said it was a horrible ideal, but it wasn’t the head I was following when I got up and went over to the table. Justine must want to use me some how to gain an advantage in the game, or over me. Either way she was going to get her way, I might as well try to enjoy the ride. Hopefully it would not end with me sleeping on the couch.

“Ah, ok,” I replied, slowly easing myself off the couch. I didn’t want to look like a kid in a candy store, running over there to drool over the naked bodies. I could be cool and let my swagger show.

“Honey, I owe Kelly 15 spanks with the ruler. Why don’t you do it for me?” Justine asked in that sweet sultry voice she used when ever she wanted something special, or sex.

“Ah….” I stuttered. Well there goes cool. Was this a trick? I already knew I was going through with it, but I wanted to check my bases first. A sexy blonde was going over my lap to be spanked naked on my wife’s direction. I don’t see anywhere this could go bad for me.

“HEY! That’s not allowed!” Kelly exclaimed from her position behind my wife. Her crossed arms acting as a makeshift bra, it was clear she strategically choose her position to minimize exposure.

“You owe me 15 swats, I don’t see why Mike can’t give them, do you?” Justine glanced at Veronica and Naomi.

“Nope! Get over his lap Kelly!” Veronica laughed at what she viewed as her friend’s fortunate situation.

Kelly growled at her friend before obediently slipping behind Naomi then turning her back to me and sliding in front of me and into position over my knee. The whole process looked a little odd though she never exposed herself to me for much more than a few moments. The comical part was her embarrassment, since I had seen her full front earlier when she delivered the beer. Maybe the alcohol was wearing off allowing her modesty to poke through.

The globes staring up at me were everything I had imagined and more. Smooth skin overflowing the well toned thighs leading to long legs. Most of the red bars from before had faded into a nice, gentle blush. I lightly brushed my finger tips over the crowns as I took it in.

“Oh and honey, make sure they are good and hard, she was a bitch to me last week.” Justine disturbed me from the revile.

“I was not a bitch!” Kelly protested, trying to look up at my wife.

I was amazed by the attitude from someone in such compromising position. I bet I eliminate the attitude, I thought as a raised the ruler high above my shoulder.

CRACK! “OUCH! That hurt!” Kelly yelped as the shock waves ripped across her bottom.

“It’s supposed to,” Naomi commented. “you baby. She deserves it, she was a bitch.”

I’d never heard Naomi speak like that. It wasn’t anger or spite, rather more out of annoyance with her friend. Kelly must actually deserve this spanking I told myself as I brought the ruler down with slow, firm strokes.

CRACK! “OOWEEE!” She tried reaching back, but her wrist just gave me leverage to hold her in position.

CRACK! “YEEOWWCCHH!” CRACK! “Ahhh, please!” CRACK! “Ahhhhhhh!”

She reaction to the spanks shifted from yelps to more active signs of distress, including kicking her legs in the air, causing her torso to bounce on my lap. This did nothing but make the erection in my pants harder. So hard it began to hurt. I could really use a bathroom break to release some pressure.

CRACK! “YEOOWWCCH!!” Kelly cried out as I finished up my allotment.

“That’s fifteen,” I said, offering a friendly hand to the upended woman.

“Ow ow ow,” Kelly repeated as she used one hand to raise off my lap while the other was locked on her glowing bottom. She hopped about, rubbing the the sting of the ruler out of her bottom. I must’ve been harder than the rest of the girls, because none of them had yet to do the spanking dance.

“Serves you right,” Naomi remarked moving her piece around the board. She, like the other two active players had nothing on above the table, though she was clearly embarrassed by her state of undress. The slouched statue and arm firmly positioned across her chest prevented any kind of show.

Justine performed her turn, getting her only piece just outside of her safe area. Next turn she probably could win back piece of clothing. Go Honey!

“Bye, bye Justine,” Veronica mocked my wife with a little wave.

“Grrrr!” Justine glared across the table at Veronica.

“So, what do you got left?” Veronica asked, trying to suppress the broad grin overtaking her smile.

“A 7, 10, 12 and a Sorry!” Justine threw down her hand in annoyance.

“Oh, a 12 and a Sorry! Naomi, lets have Mike give them instead of us. He did a good job with Kelly,” Veronica proposed.

“Ah, ok,” Justine accepted a little bit to eagerly. She thought I’d go easy on her, and I would have went easier had Naomi not inserted a condition.

“Only if he doesn’t do it hard enough we’ll stop and do it ourselves,” Naomi said.

“Hey, see if I go easy on you next time,” Justine snipped.

“Who says there will be a next time?” Naomi shot back as she brought her glass to her lips.

“Fine, lets get this over with honey,” Justine got up seat then sashayed over to my lap. I wanted to rip off my pants have her right then. That sexy shake of her hips and the pouty face did it for me every time. It wasn’t like I needed any more encouragement, and Justine damn well knew it. That was her plan, to tease me all evening. Damn! I’ll get her back; now with the spanking and later.

“Over you go,” I instructed.

“Sniff sniff, yes sir,” she pouted before taking her place. Justine hadn’t been over my knee in a while, as fun and disciplinary spankings had been in other positions.

CARCK! CRACK! “Ouch! Not so hard!” CRACK! “Owwwe!” I worked that ruler up and down my wife’s bottom, delivering crisp swats that I knew stung. If she was going

“Harder!” Veronica cheered on.

“Yea, you did me harder,” Kelly added.

I obliged the girls, since I didn’t want her to get spanked again, or at least that was what I would admit to if Justine asked.

The sting really started to get to Justine as I neared a dozen. Her bucking and whimpering had matched Kelly’s even though she was only halfway done.

CRACK! CRACK! “Yoop!” Yeeeoooch!” She yelped and kicked her legs about with each swat, rolling her hips across my lap.

And then I was done. Twenty seven spanks. Angry red stripes marking every impact, contrasting with her natural khaki complexion.

I leaned forward to whisper, “Ok baby, its all over.” Justine pushed herself off my lap and instantly started dancing about, rubbing the single from her bottom.

“That’s a nice dance,” Naomi teased. “I bet you do it often.”

She was right though. Justine danced about with more style and flair than Kelly. The spanking dance was not a normal part of her repertoire. Her spankings where normally followed up with corner time or sex, the later being more prominent and the reason why she hadn’t been over my knee in a long time.

While most of us watched my wife’s performance, Veronica had other ideas. She had been keenly watching me spank Kelly and now Justine. She was now just staring at me, eating me up with her hungry eyes. Hungry eyes that turned mischievous once Justine stopped dancing about. “Ah I think Mike could use a blowjob. He looks all ready and primed,” Veronica teased.

“Hey, I think this is going too far..” I protested starting to stand up. A little stripping and spanking were ok, but not actual acts, even if it would be with my wife.

“Sit down there,” Kelly commanded as she pushed my shoulders down, and into the chair. “Justine lost fair and square, now she has to serve the players until a winner is determined.” What? Serve the winner? This was way too much though.

“Yes, ma’am” Justine said, kneeling before me. “It’s ok” I think she mouthed me before unzipping my pants. I wish I could have protested more, but there was a lack of blood flowing to my brain.

“Ooh la la,” Veronica moaned when I sprung free.

Justine gave an agonizingly slow lick from my balls to tip. I wanted to cum at that second but I couldn’t. The damn I’d built up over the last 2 hours was too strong. She looked up into my eyes as she swirled her tongue around my tip then engulfed the entire head. A gently sucking before she bobbed down. Her throat teased my tip then she relented.

“That’s it! Deep throat him, I bet he loves it! Don’t you Mike!” Veronica cheered.

“Oh yea…” I moaned went all the way down. The damn was breaking and I could feel the waves starting to build. So they would reach a crescendo and come flooding forth. A few deep pulses worked my head before she pulled off, keeping just the tip imprisoned.

“Hhmmm mmmmm,” she hummed, working her lips halfway down then back up. Her tongue glided over the bottom overloaded my senses.

“That’s it, that’s it,” I stuttered before letting out a low moan as I filled my beautiful wife’s mouth. “YEEAAA!”

Justine started sucking and swallowed wave after wave. She didn’t stop once I was empty though. Swirling her tongue around my ultra-sensitive member was pure torture. I couldn’t control anything as wave after wave of ecstasy overloaded my brain. I couldn’t move. My heart raced. Then my eyes rolled back in my head and the room went dark.

****************

“SCORE! THE BLACKHAWKS WIN!” the announcer yelled on TV. I opened my eyes to see the white jersey’s flooding the ice as the opposing goalie skated off. Yuck, I had drooled on myself. How long had I been out? That was the best blowjob Justine had ever given me. I wonder how they got me all the way over here though.

I eased myself off the couch to see the girls huddled around the table, all fully dressed. I guess the game must be over. I walked over to the kitchen table to see Sorry! still setup

“Honey, why don’t you go up to bed. We could hear your snoring all the way over here.” Justine told me.

“Who won?” I asked, curious if it was Veronica or Naomi.

“I did,” said my wife. How could that be? She had lost. That’s why I spanked her. That’s why she had to go down on me. That’s why….why I want to get up to bed and return to dreamland.

Justine got up and met me at the doorway to the front hallway. “I’ll tell who I won for the weekend when I come up to bed.”

I will never swear in front of kids again

“Grpph ah haagh hhesss” I grumbled. It was supposed to be “God I hate this!” but a bar of ivory can make it tough to talk. The egg timer says 7 more minutes. Seven more minutes of hell. Or is it seven more minutes until hell? Either way, I shouldn’t be using the word hell. It’s linguistic brethren is the reason I am in this predicament.

Click, Click, Click, the timer slowly counted down to zero. This it totally my fault, and oddly appropriate. I just wish it wasn’t so agonizingly long.

Click, Click, Click. Stop mocking me. I can see your little mechanical eyes looking up at me as you tick the seconds away. You are mocking me. I know I have been naughty, but you don’t have to tease me about it.

Click, Click, BEEP! BEEP! The wait is up. My mouthsoaping is finally over.

“Ok sweety, this can come out now.” I am told from behind. I open my jaw as wide as it will go so his large musclar hands can remove the bar of soap from my mouth.

I immediately spit out suds into the sink. I got to get this taste out of my mouth. I turn on the facuet only to have my reprieve cut short.

“You can rise once, and only once,” he commands, sitting the bar on the soap stand. It has my teeth marks in it! How shameful.

I bend over the sink and let a large gulp of water fill my mouth. Swish, swish, swish, spit! It is still there and I think I made the taste worst. I can taste it everywhere now! Yuck!

“Come on sweety, over the bed you go for your spanking.” He turns me around, away from the sink and the water needed to get rid of this awful taste and towards the bedroom, where the well worn leather belt lies on the bed.

The spanking; the second part of my punishment. Why do I have to get both, my mouth washed out with soap AND a spanking? I guess I do know better than to swear, especially in front of a two year old who repeated it. But why the belt? I hate the belt. It really hurts. That is the reason it is called a punishment; a very undesirable consequence for a particular action.

He has to lead me to the bed. My feet may work, but I just can’t do it on my own. Soon enought, my knees are touching the footboard and I am looking at the instrument of my correction. It is going to hurt. “Lower your panties and bend over,” I am told. His voice is stern with a dash of regret. I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. Reluctantly, I follow his instructions. I press forward slightly, trying to hide my front as I roll the boyshorts over my derriere. I like derriere and tushy over the traditional bottom, butt or cruder ass. Bottom just makes me feel like a little girl while butt and ass are just to uneducated.

The first breeze of cool night air on my newly exposed skin sends shivers up my spine. I feel naked and vulerable even though I still have a camisole on and only my tushy is exposed. Bending forward only exgerates the feeling. He has to be staring at my tushy. Its full, though well toned contours. The footboard, pressing into my hips from below tilts it upwards, at the perfect angle. Why do I have to have a four poster princess bed? It is situations like this I regret throwing that tantrum in the furniture store. Though I spent sometime in this exact position that evening and numerous times since. Every time has been just as embarassing.

“I think a couple dozen is appropriate, what do you think?”

“Yes, Sire,” I grumble before burying my face in the blankets. It will start soon and I don’t want anyone else to hear me getting spanked. That would be even more embarrassing than this.

“Good,” is all he says. I hear the belt being lifted off the bed. I clench up every muscle and wait, and wait. The seconds seem like hours. Why can’t he just start already?

And then he does. CRACK! The first stroke takes my breath away before the sting even registers. And registers it does. A strip of fiery sting cuts across my derriere. It is so much more intense than I remember.

CRACK! CRACK! He gives me only enough time between strokes to register the pain, but not really react. It hurts, so much. So very much.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I punch the bed a couple of times, trying to distract myself from the spanking.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I give up any resolve of strength and let myself cry out in agony. Cries that fall onto the deft ears of my comforter.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I try to kick the air but it just presses the footboard harder into my pelvis. The unrelenting fire keeps building.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Twisting and wiggling doesn’t help either. He just sets his left hand on the small of my back, pressing my pelvis firmly into the wood.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Every stroke hurts so much. I want it to stop now, but I know it won’t. I beg for mercy, though I doubt he even hears it.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! “Please stop, I’ll be good. I’ll never swear again. Please no more,” were the words I tried to cry out. Nothing inteligable escaped my lips or the blanket.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I have nothing more. No more protests, no more cries of mercy. Just acceptance and sobbing. I was a naughty and I am being punished for it.

Just like that it ends. No more strips of fiery sting cuting across my derriere. No more pain, no more spanking, just forgiveness.

He helps me up and I immediately hug him, burrying my face into his burly shoulder, sobbing.

He just holds me, comforting his contrite girl. Stroking my hair and back as he tries to sooth away the discomfort. And it works. The guilt and anxiety are all gone. Everything is alright now. Everything except the burning sensation in my tushy.

“I’m sorry honey, I’ll never, sniff, swear in front of our kids again,” I murmur in my husband’s ear.

“I know, I know.”