Whipping My Wife - a filthy quickie
A short story from the sizzling hot Filthy Quickies series. Pete has been a naughty husband, but it's his wife who's getting the punishment. He knows that buying her a whip will put him back in her good books. This short story is roughly 3,000 words long and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen. More
A short story from the sizzling hot Filthy Quickies series.
Pete's been a bad, bad husband - he slept with his step-daughter. His sexpot wife doesn't know, but he wants to make things better between them. Maybe if he buys a whip...
Contains explicit sex, whipping, cunnilingus, anal play and insertion of foreign objects.
This short story is roughly 3,000 words long and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen.
I swiped the key-card and opened the door. “After you.” She sashayed in and I took the opportunity to admire her rear end before I closed the door behind us.
She hitched up her skirt and sat on the bed, crossing her legs and giving me a glimpse of thigh. Sometimes, less is definitely more. The look on her face told me she knew exactly what she was doing to me. After taking a moment to admire the view, I went to the closet, my hands shaking with last-minute nerves. She’d like it. I was sure she’d love it. But a sliver of doubt kept trying to creep in.
“Come on, where’s my present?”
I found the brown paper package. It didn’t look much wrapped up like that, but it didn’t feel right to go with ribbons and bows. I brought it out and gave it to her. Holding it in her hand, she looked at me with a puzzled expression. Then she ripped open the paper and an enormous smile spread across her face.
“A whip? Jesus, Pete. Where did you find that?” She flexed the leather-covered pole between her hands
I laughed, glad that she liked her present. “Actually, it’s a riding crop. Do you remember the day-trip to the banana plantation?”
“There was a gift shop.”
“But why would they have whips?”
“There was a stable there. They had all sorts of stuff for horses.” Now I thought about it, it might have been worth looking for a bridle too.
I watched her take an experimental swipe through the air. The crop made a satisfying whoosh and her smile grew larger. Holding the crop by the spanking end, she offered me the handle. God I love that woman. She might do her share of nagging and complaining, but once that bedroom door closes, I get to do whatever I want.