My husband was waiting for me when I came home from a night out with friends. The second I stepped into the living room, I saw him. I could also tell from the bulge in his pants that his cock was already hard, and that’s when I knew I was in for it.

“Bottom in the air,” he demanded as I set down my purse.

A shiver coursed through me as I stood before him in my faded jeans and formfitting sweater. I opened my mouth to respond, and Ken said, “Now!”

I shut my mouth and leaned forward, placing my hands on the seat of a nearby desk chair. My ass was up, and my forearms trembled.

“Were you a good girl while you were out?” he asked.

I smirked, playing along, and assured him, “Of course.”

“Only three drinks?” he asked.

It was something he could catch me on. We’d both been trying to cut back on booze, up our intake of healthy food and get more exercise. In theory, we were going the whole nine yards of “we’re not teenagers anymore — we have to do better.”

Swallowing hard, I confessed, “I had four.”

His hand connected with my ass, and the blow rocked me forward enough that my forehead brushed the chair’s backrest. My head seemed to kiss the jaunty striped fabric.

He dragged his finger down my seat, following the seam that ran along my ass crack. I jumped when he gave me an extra tap on the rear.

“How about fried foods? Please tell me you had a healthy salad instead of junk.”

I remained silent. I wanted to pretend that question was rhetorical.

Turned out, it was. But he didn’t reach the conclusion I’d hoped for, even though he was correct.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” Ken added. Then he delivered a hard swat to each ass cheek. Again, the blows rocked me forward, causing my head to repeatedly kiss the chairback.

“I see you weren’t nearly as good as I’d expected — or hoped,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Stand up.”

I rose with my legs shaking and my wrists aching from bracing myself.

Ken turned me, unbuttoned my jeans, drew down the zipper and lowered my pants. He grabbed my undies and gave them a sharp tug. The worn fabric gave up without much protest, ripping down a side seam. He did the same to the opposite side and whisked the torn panties away from my body. Then he squatted before me and unlaced my boots. When he had both loosened, I stepped out of one and then the other at his prompting, so he could also get rid of my lowered jeans.

Next, he demanded, “Top off.”

I tugged my sweater over my head. My face was still covered by it when he was popping the front clasp of my bra.

My nipples grew hard and tight. They seemed to be sensitive to the air moving around me.

I tossed my sweater aside, and his unforgiving eyes regarded me sternly as he said, “You were so bad.” He leaned in and sniffed me, and I was suddenly filled with dread. “Smoking, too?”

I almost lied. I could have said the girls were puffing on cigarettes, and they had been. But so had I. In for a penny, in for a pound, I figured.

Despite my nerves being shredded, my pussy was thumping and aching to be filled. Yet Ken was taking his time with me. He wasn’t in the mood to deliver a short and sweet spanking to get to the good stuff. He was primed for the extended director’s cut.

“I just had one. With a drink,” I said, staring at him defiantly.

He laughed and leaned forward to rifle around on the desktop. Deep down, I knew what he was after, even before I saw him clutching it in his hand: my old wooden ruler.

I’d had it for most of my life. Its edges were worn smooth. A lot of the numbers were faded or nearly gone. But that thing whistled through the air as he swung it to smack his hand.

I turned as if to put my hands back on the chair seat. Best to simply take my punishment. But he caught me by the shoulder and turned me back to face him.

“Did I tell you to move?” he asked.

“No,” I said softly.

“Stand up straight.”

I did. But not straight enough for him. He patted my bare pussy with the cold end of the ruler.

“Straighter, darling.”

I put some steel in my spine and lengthened myself as much as possible.

Ken looked me in the eyes. I got so lost in his masterful gaze that he managed to catch me off guard.

The ruler came down hard across my breasts. Both nipples sang with the pain of the wood’s impact. My lips were pressed together, but that still failed to stifle my exclamation.

The ruler hurt like a beast. I knew it wouldn’t injure me, but it felt as if my skin was on fire. At the same time, my pussy was swollen and drenched. I would have done anything he asked if only he’d fill me with his hard cock.

“I thought I could trust you to stay true to our plans while you were out,” he lectured.

I almost smiled. We certainly weren’t that strict about things at home.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him with faux contriteness.

“I’m sure you are,” he countered.

After that, he moved fast. He’d been relaxed while talking to me, but then his arm came up and the ruler struck across my chest again. It left another red stripe, which was slightly off-kilter from the first.

Air whooshed out of my lungs as I gasped, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

He put the ruler in his back pocket, stepped close to me and slid two fingers into my wet cunt. He wiggled his digits, and I was forced to swallow my moan.

“Don’t give me those crocodile tears,” he teased. “You are not nearly as miserable as you’d like me to believe.”

He pushed his fingers deeper, grinding the heel of his hand against my swollen clit. The pain was fading, but the pleasure was building. I exhaled softly and shut my eyes.

“Now about this smoking,” he said, withdrawing his fingers so fast I felt the void like a cold wind.

“It was one cigarette while I was drinking a beer on the patio with Marla. Just one. I didn’t even finish it!” I babbled.

He nodded as if in sympathetic understanding. And then that ruler was in his hand again. This time, the flat of it came down hard on my mound, the very tip of it brushing my tender clit.

My hips bucked, and I hissed between my teeth.

He did it again, and I broke down and begged, “Please, please.”

Ken laughed darkly and delivered one more good smack to my pussy. I jumped, and he caught me by the wrist as he asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Please, please,” I said again.

“Please, please what? Please stop? Please fuck me?”

“Yes,” I said.

He laughed and turned me back toward the chair. I braced my hands on the seat again, and he planted a stripe of fire across my ass.

“Do you promise to behave next time?”

“Yes, yes!”

He landed another blow, and I felt a blazing stretch of heat in the ruler’s wake.

“Don’t lie to me,” he chastised.

“I’m not! I promise!”

He delivered one final blow and then I heard the ruler hit the floor. He grabbed my shoulder with one hand, and his other slipped between my thighs. His fingers slid into my cunt, and I groaned. Then he pulled them free and smeared my moisture over my clit.

“Do you promise to come hard all over my dick?” he whispered.

“Yes. Fuck me, please!”

I heard his buckle jangling as he opened his belt. It was a jingly little tune heralding the pleasure to come. But his opening zipper sounded like a roar, the swish of parting fabric like a swelling wave. He rubbed his dick along my slick groove. He drove into me so hard my body shook with the force of his movement. He reached around to once again find my clit, which was swollen and aching for his touch.

Ken fucked me like that — with me bent over and his body curved over mine. Every thrust pushed me closer to orgasm. His cock hit all the tender places deep inside my pussy. I shivered as he stroked my clit expertly. His slippery fingertips strummed my knot of flesh so perfectly; I could hardly stand the pleasure. I clenched my internal muscles as he nailed me. I couldn’t hold back any longer, and I came. My pussy let loose its juices, and my quivering muscles milked his cock.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s a good girl.”

Seconds later, I turned in his arms. He guided me onto my knees. One hand kept manhandling his meat as I opened my mouth. The fingers of his free hand threaded through my hair, and he pushed his rod past my lips. He drove into my mouth, pushing deeper and deeper until my lips brushed the base of his cock. I breathed deeply through my nose as his crown touched the back of my throat.

Ken was thrusting and holding my hair as I sucked him eagerly. I wanted so badly for him to come — for him to give me what I wanted: his tasty load.

He was fucking my mouth just the way he liked, and his thrusts were driving him closer to release. He tugged my hair just a little, and I gasped around his shaft. He pumped his hips harder.

I swirled my tongue, drew on his cock and did everything I knew would give him pleasure. Without being told, I reached up and cupped his balls. I stroked them, giving them a gentle squeeze, and he finally let go with a shout. The sound of his ecstasy was music to my ears as the salty rush of his cream filled my mouth.

I would drink every extra drink, smoke every forbidden cigarette, and eat every greasy food to have to pay the piper like that again — and I’d do it soon.