Janie had been way too high-strung lately. Job upheavals along with life stresses had made her snappy, jangled, and short-tempered.

I love Janie, but I’d had enough.

I found her in the kitchen after work, opening and slamming cabinets like a crazy woman. I managed to get ahold of one flying arm and hold her by the wrist.

She turned to me and snarled, “Let me go.”

“Calm down, lover.”

She tugged her arm away and said, “Don’t tell me to calm down. The exact best way to piss me off is to tell me to calm down.”

Not only had her stress been high, but our sex life had hit a low. I couldn’t seem to get her to see that when you are stressed, anxious, and tired, fucking could be a lovely distraction and a feel-good event.

“Then how about you take a breath, Janie?”

She tried, but it was short and shallow instead of deep and long.

“Just leave me be. I’m trying to make dinner. I’m trying to make dinner for you.”

“Fuck dinner,” I said.

She froze, blinking at me. Miss I’m-pissed-off didn’t know what to do with that, now did she?

“What?”

“I said, fuck dinner. And how about I fuck you while I’m at it?” I was imagining the night ahead. It had been a while since we played, and I thought we were long overdue.

“I don’t have time — ”

I grabbed her wrist again, wrapping my fingers around, making sure to press against her pounding pulse. She was pissed and her heartbeat was like a jackhammer.

“I think you do.” I squeezed. “I think you need to make time.”

That penetrated the fog of anger, and I saw her pupils dilate slightly. She licked her lipstick-painted lips and sighed. The pulse at the base of her throat banged so hard I could see it.

“Oh — ”

“Yes, oh. You need to stop yelling at me, Janie. You need to see me as a friend, not a foe.”

“I do!” she yelled. “I’m just — ” She wriggled but I held fast to her wrist. “Rabid!” She finished, laughing. But it was a frustrated, angry laugh.

I moved her quickly before she could react and pushed her back so she leaned over the butcher’s block slightly. I slid my hand up beneath her long dress and smacked her on the ass. Hard.

She barked with a mix of laughter and rage. “Stop!”

I did it again, and then again. I spanked her ass until I felt some of the tension go out of her.

I pulled her skirt down and then her tights. She’d already kicked her heels off. I pulled her sweater up and over her head and undid her bra. It fell to the butcher’s block and I brushed it off. Her long blonde hair hung in her face and she was breathing hard. Her juicy ass was marked with my red handprints. I bent and bit her right on the reddest part. She jumped and hissed, but something in her had submitted.

“Put your belly on the wood,” I said. Even as I said it, I pressed her in the small of the back with my hand so that she obeyed. She leaned over the unstained wood as instructed. It stood in the center of our kitchen as a makeshift island. I had access to Janie from all sides, which pleased me.

“Let your arms hang down,” I said.

She did. Her toned arms hung down on either side. I rummaged in the kitchen drawer until I found twine. I squatted while she watched, squirming slightly, and tied the twine tightly around her left wrist. I fed the twine directly below the top so that should she try to raise her arms, the twine would catch on the legs. She wouldn’t get free until I let her free. I tied her right wrist snugly and tested my work. Now her arms were tethered to one another with enough play that she wouldn’t be miserable — just miserable enough.

I got behind her, crowding her a bit. I slid my finger very slowly from the small of her back past the tip of her coccyx and down her ass crack. I paused on the tight star of her asshole and felt her bristling. Then I traveled down to her slick pussy. Without preamble, I pushed two fingers into her cunt from behind.

“I can’t help notice that you’re calmer and very, very wet, my love.”

She nodded but didn’t say a word. She was just sprawled there, bound with kitchen twine, while I touched her.

I fucked her with my fingers — slowly at first, then rougher, relishing the way her hot pussy gripped my thrusting fingers. I withdrew from her suddenly and caught her off-guard. She tossed against the wood top, her arms going wide — but only as far as my makeshift tethers would allow. She grunted and gasped, pushing her hips forward, trying to get more contact — firmer contact — with my fingers.

I stopped touching her altogether.

“Please — ” she finally gasped.

“Please what?”

“Please let me come.” She bucked again and this time truly strained against her bonds. The twine was thin but strong, and it got her nowhere.

I walked around to face her and smiled down at her.

“Would you like to tell me something first?”

“I want it?”

I shook my head.

“I’m horny?”

I shook it again.

“I need you to fuck me, Sir?”

“Good try.”

Then she froze, eyes narrowing.

“I’m sorry?”

I inclined my head. “Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner. But how about if you try it once more, this time with some sincerity?”

Her face softened and she sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole. I’m sorry that I’m bringing home all my stress and taking it out on you. I guess I know you’ll love me anyway. Lucky you,” she laughed. But then she bucked again, growing weary of being tied but not getting any pleasure.

“I will,” I said, touching her hair. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t make you pay for your behavior. At least a little.”

I stepped forward, making a show of drawing down my zipper. I tugged my cock free and gave it a few good strokes while she struggled, splayed out like my own personal pretty starfish.

“Open your mouth.”

My stubborn girl was back. She pressed her lips together and looked away.

I tsked, shook my head, and moved behind her again. I delivered a cracking smack to her ass. She cried out and panted. But then she stilled and her legs parted. She was trying to woo me into fucking her.

I gave her six good cracks, relishing the harsh sound in the small kitchen, the cherry redness of her pale ass, the way she mewled and wiggled and cried but never begged.

This time, I pushed a single finger into her pussy and flexed it. She was beyond wet and now in the neighborhood of drenched. I withdrew suddenly and swept my fingertip over her clit just hard enough that she could feel it, and that was that.

I went to face her again, holding my erection before me like a sword.

“If you want to get fucked — if you want to come — you’d better open that pretty mouth, Janie. And suck.”

Her mouth opened so fast, there was an audible pop. I managed to keep my stern expression, but just barely.

I dragged my cock along her soft, full lips as if painting them. I pushed so that just the tip slid into the warm, velvety interior of her mouth. She opened her mouth to try to gobble me up but I stepped back, staying close enough that she could barely reach me.

She sighed, exasperated, frustrated, but an entirely different kind than work stress. This was sex stress and I wanted to work her up until she was practically frothing at the mouth, then give her my all and watched her release all that stress, all that frustration and rage.

Some part of her knew it, too, but still it was driving her mad. I could tell.

When she’d resigned herself to the fact that she could only press her lips against my tip, that her tongue could only lick me so much, I stepped in fast, pushed my hands into her thick dirty blonde hair, and drove into her mouth with some force. Her body went rigid until she accommodated by sucking a big breath through her nose.

Her hands tried to come up to clutch the sides of the block, but her tethers held fast. She arched forward, pressing her toes against the kitchen floor.

I slowed some, thrusting into her mouth and then pulling back, taking my sweet time watching my dick disappear into her soft mouth. She forgot to be irritated and started to suck me and lick me with relish. Her tongue made intoxicating swirls along my shaft, sucking my tip with relish. She hummed softly, probably unaware of it, as she serviced me.

I moved in and out a few more times, holding her hair, making her struggle. Then I pulled free and moved behind her — deliberately slow. I rustled through the utensils in the holder and pulled out a spatula.

I moved behind her. She tossed her head from side to side to try to see me but couldn’t. Janie let out a frustrated growl and I smiled.

“I think we need to heat things up a little here in the kitchen. What do you think?” I slid the edge of the silicone spatula along the top of her ass crack. When she gasped, I smacked her flat on the ass with it. Five on her left cheek, five on her right. The head of the spatula added a nice melodic snap!

“Please, baby — ” She struggled to get her words out. Her breath hitched and despite her frustration, her ass arched up as if to invite more punishment.

“Please what?”

She jerked so hard against the twine that her upper body moved off the butcher’s block for a moment. I took that opportunity to push three fingers into her pussy. I immediately went to three because I knew, without a doubt, that my Janie was soaking-wet. A river.

I fucked her with my rigid fingers and watched her shamelessly push back to take me. Her pussy gripped my fingers, rippled, flexed. I’d fucked my wife enough times to know that she was so close to coming, she could taste it. I also knew it was driving her bananas.

“Please, please, please — ” She chanted it like a prayer.

The desperation in her voice made my dick ache.

She slammed back, moving the butcher’s block a little.

I kept my fingers in her, kept moving them in and out, using the spatula to smack a trail down the back of her left thigh. I watched her skin turn rosy and then red. Watched some of it welt. All the while, she grew wetter and wetter around my thrusting finger.

“Do you want to come?”

She nodded like a crazy woman, head resting against the wood. “Yes, yes, please — fuck! Yes!”

I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and she growled.

“First let me even things up, Janie.”

“What do you mean — ”

Before she could finish I started smacking a matching red line down the back of her right leg. Every blow provoked a whimper, a moan, or a snarl. She sounded like some wild thing. It was perfect.

I rested my palms against her warm, tortured skin. She sighed.

I pressed my fingers against her wet slit and when she went lax against the table, all promise of fight gone from her, I slid them inside her sweet pussy.

She moved languidly now. Less frenzy, more need. She moved back gently to take me, chanting “yes” like a mantra.

I pulled my fingers free and slid my index finger across her clitoris. She cried out and I smiled. I gave her a few more strokes, and hoping I was reading her right, I plunged my three fingers back inside her.

She came, caterwauling like a mad woman, her pussy gripping me, milking me. I shut my eyes and listened to her pleasure. Absorbed it.

Her orgasm lasted a while. Every time I thought she was done, another rippling spasm would hit and I’d curl my fingers.

When the final blips of pleasure had ceased, I moved back to look her in the eye.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, yes.”

I could tell by her stance she was getting stiff, starting to ache, getting frustrated again.

I nodded, brushed her hair out of her face, and bent to kiss her forehead.

“Don’t fight me, Janie. Relax.”

She looked me in the eye while worrying her lower lip with her teeth. Then she laid her head down and let out a sigh.

When I got behind her, I took my time, taking off my pants and my underwear. I made sure she could feel my energy, close but not touching her. Then I grabbed big handfuls of her rosy red ass and squeezed. I spread her cheeks so I could see how wet and ready she was. I brushed my fingertip over her back, and she shivered like she always did.

“Relax,” I commanded, touching it again.

She visibly made herself relax.

I pressed my cock against her, making sure she could feel how hard I was. I had been waiting for this moment from the second I’d grabbed her wrist. The wrist that was now loosely but successfully tethered to her other wrist.

Janie whispered something. I couldn’t hear her.

“What?” I stayed poised there, cockhead just resting against her pussy.

“I said, please fucking fuck me.”

I grinned.

I slid into her slowly, making it last for her and for me. The wet, velvety sensation of touching her made my head swim. Her orgasm had caused a flood of her juices, so much so that my entry was audible. Juicy.

I held that wonderful ass in my hands and started to rock. The butcher’s block swayed with my motion, and Janie did, too. She sighed contentedly and then clenched her pussy tightly around me.

I hummed my pleasure, moving a bit faster. I ached to come but had no intention of letting this end too soon.

She moved restlessly. Usually when I took her from behind, she liked to reach back a hand for me. I’d often clasp it even as I banged into her. This time she couldn’t. I had stolen that option with my boring old kitchen twine and my need to pay her back just a little for her attitude.

“Isn’t this fun, Janie? Making you pay?”

She snorted, but her body belied her true feelings. She rippled and flexed around me. Every thrust had me inching closer to orgasm. I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath to keep control of myself.

I moved my hands to her hips, holding them tightly, watching her rosy skin blanch pale beneath my tight grip.

“Not fun?” I taunted her. I froze, cock buried deep in her pussy, but not moving at all. Not even an inch.

She growled. “Yes! It’s fun. Oh, my God! Fuck me, please. I’m begging. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry, please let me come. I’ll do anything. Anything!”

And there it was.

“Hold on, love,” I warned.

I tugged her to me even as I thrusted. Even the locked wheels on the butcher’s block squealed.

Her toes were barely on the floor and as I thrusted, hard and fast and deep, at one point she lifted first one leg, then the other. Her upper body splayed on the wood, her arms still tethered to one another, but her legs were doing their own aerial show. It was like the circus, only bound.

I pressed my thumb against the indentation just at the base of her spine. She’d told me once that somehow, and she didn’t know how, that increased her pleasure.

She gasped, her body quivering.

I massaged her secret spot and slammed my cock against her not-so-secret spot. Her pussy enveloped me, her wetness coated me, and her moans made me half-crazy.

“Come for me, Janie. Come for me.”

I moved my finger to rest it against her back hole. She made nonsense noises and I had to laugh. She was a woman possessed.

My finger already wet from playing in her pussy, I plunged it in her asshole. I pressed so that my cock and finger created dueling friction.

She lost it, coming, both legs lifting off the floor as she screamed out her pleasure.

I was barely hanging on, but I had a finale to the lesson in manners.

I pulled free of her and removed my finger. Using more of her juices, I lubed up her ass and heard her make a little squeak.

“Tell me no,” I said, pressing my cockhead to her ass.

She said nothing.

I pressed slowly and felt her moving back slightly. To let me in. To take my dick.

I breached her and then stopped. My hands splayed against her lower back as she trembled.

“Do it,” she said. “Come in me, baby.”

That was all I needed. A groan of satisfaction slipped out of me and I started to fuck her in earnest.

I was so turned-on it barely took a dozen strokes. The gameplaying had ended and my pleasure surged as I emptied into her back hole.

She laid there panting as I stroked her back with my fingertips.

“Feel better?” I asked, moving to untie her.

She raised her head looking sex-drunk, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed. “Better doesn’t begin to describe it.”