Jennifer Punishes Her Husband – a fragment


Shutting the door, but not taking the time to lock it, Jennifer dragged her husband into the bathroom. She planned to sit on the toilet to administer his punishment, but that idea was foiled when Jennifer noted that the toilet seat had a rim, but no lid.

Frustrated with both her husband’s behavior and the lack of bathroom accouterments, Jennifer snapped at Bill. “Pull down your pants!” she ordered. “Get them down now!”

Bill was taken aback. He knew that he deserved punishment. “But honey,” he pleaded. “Not here, please.”

Jennifer clenched her teeth together and turned her back on her husband. “You should have thought of that earlier,” she growled, studying her own rage in the bathroom mirror. “I’ve warned you before about flirting with other women.” Jennifer pursed her lips and glanced at Bill’s reflection. “Take down your pants, or I’ll take them off for you!”

“But honey, anyone could come in here,” Bill cried out. “At least lock the door!”

Jennifer ignored her husband’s desperate protests. She spun around and poked her finger into Bill’s chest. “I’ve had enough,” she snapped. “I’ll take your damned pants off for you.” Jennifer stepped forward and dropped a hand to Bill’s belt.

“No!” Bill’s voice was harsh with fear. “I’ll do it.” His punishment would be bad enough; forcing his wife to undress him would only made it worse. Looking away from Jennifer, Bill loosened his belt, and then lowered his pants and underwear to just
below his ass cheeks. He spread his legs to keep his pants from falling to the floor.

Jennifer growled low in her throat and pushed Bill against the bathroom closet, his head leaning into the door. With her right hand in the middle of her husband’s back, she used the other had to snatch Bill’s pants down to his knees. Startled, Bill closed his legs, and his pants and underwear fell to the floor, bunching around his ankles.

Jennifer stood up beside her husband. She wrapped an arm around his waist and pulling him into her hip. Glancing to her left, she saw a large, wooden hairbrush on the bathroom counter. She smiled. The brush would save her hand, as well as administer a much needed welt to her husband’s ass.

As Jennifer picked up the brush, the bathroom door creaked open a couple of inches. “Is anyone in there?” The voice was feminine and not one that Jennifer recognized. She saw the woman’s eyes widen when she realized what was happening in the bathroom.

“It’s all right,” Jennifer said to the woman on the other side of the door. She raised the hairbrush high above her head, and took aim on her husband’s bare behind. “We’re nearly finished. Feel free to come in.”

The door swung open wider, and a young woman stood in the opening with her hands over her mouth.

CRACK!

The hairbrush’s impact on bare skin was like a pistol shot in the small room.

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