How to Spank a Naughty Wife

Chapter 1

"In the bag on the desk, you'll find the items we will use. Take each one out and lay them out neatly on the desk."

Mary Kay, my wife, hesitated as she stood, standing in front me at the little "desk" I had placed in the open space of our basement gym. She looked delicious in her schoolgirl outfit, her generous bust highlighted in the crisp, white button-down shirt, her short skirt barely long enough to cover the cotton panties over what I knew was a freshly smooth and already dewy pussy.

I had filled a black, zippered doctor's bag with spanking and other toys, and excitement almost seemed to radiate from where it sat on the portable workbench table, which I'd bought some time back with something like this in mind. The surface was about two feet by three feet and made of thick, sturdy black plastic, with space underneath where the angled screw-on legs stored inside it when transported. I'd set it up in the center of the padded exercise space floor, and had covered it with a thick, ivory tablecloth.

When doing a roleplay, I've found that a little extra effort to set the scene really pays off. I've always enjoyed acting and roleplaying; it's fun, and I enjoy the theater of a good scene that --when done well enough-- allows my wife to forget everything else and just get into the moment. Mary Kay, although she always enjoys what I put together, doesn't naturally get into this kind of thing, and doesn't easily fall into her role... although I knew she certainly fantasized about it. I knew what kind of erotica she read, and this was exactly the kind of story she enjoyed, with the female protagonist getting into just these kind of situations, and getting punished.

The first couple steps in a roleplay are always the hardest, where we transitioned from our normal, real lives and power structure to where she essentially has to suspend disbelief, and get into the role... and submit to me. Depending on her stress and anxiety levels, this could be harder at some times than others. But I knew that once she started getting into our roleplay, it would get easier for her... and what would really help would be when I put the blindfold on her, and she could avoid visual distractions and concentrate more on my voice and the sensations, and forget herself and her worries. That really was part of the payoff of our roleplays, getting her out of her head and day-to-day worries, and into an escapist fantasy, a role she desired sexually but not in real life, and the inevitable consciousness-obliterating, legs-to-jelly orgasms that she'd soon be having.

But getting her on the path always took some work up front, and she always resisted. It wasn't easy for her to give up control, and she's such a sensible, practical, responsible wife, woman and mom, that I often really had to get my shoulder into getting her into the roleplay if I really wanted to do it right. Which, oddly, was hard for me in return. I was raised a feminist and someone who never pushed or dominated another person, and I often had to push her. Being assertive and aggressive was a hard role for me, myself... but between being able to play a role, knowing it's what she really wanted, and the ultimate payoff of fun and exceptional sex, well... I had figured it out.

But oddly, those moments when she resisted, was hesitant and wasn't into it yet were some of the most fun, even if they were the most anxiety-inducing for both of us. The anticipation, the nervousness of wondering what would happen... Would she simply refuse? There had been times when she would say no to something, or that she felt silly, or embarrassed, and that meant I had to improvise, back off... figure something else out. But other times... other times, she'd do as told. She'd get into it. She'd submit. And there was a certain thrill I got in that, in her submission... and being able to be dominant over her.

After nearly 25 years of marriage, it was getting hard for us to keep our sex life fresh and new. Heck, to be honest, for a long time it had been increasingly hard to get sex, period. But we were making a new effort here. And it was her that was making an effort here, after one of the hardest conversations of our marriage.

She hesitated, eyes darting from me to the bag, and back, and licked her lips slightly. Then, reluctantly, she reached for the bag, her chocolate and raspberry-colored manicure impeccable. My heartbeat accelerated further, in excitement and victory.

Chapter 2

The real problem with Mary Kay is that she has never felt attractive, or sexy, and is always self-conscious.

And she's not alone... so many other women feel the same way.

It's a damn shame, because she really is a truly beautiful woman. People who meet her regularly tell me this, not that she believes me. And it's not just physical beauty. She has a spark that brings her to life, and a sense of confidence and sensibility that radiates through her, belying her underlying insecurity. A lot of women don't like her, because she's not kissing anyone's ass, and doesn't feel any need to be a part of the herd; she holds her tongue, but press her and she'll tell you exactly what she thinks, and consequences be damned. She's got a fiery temper and doesn't really like people that much; yet she is always put together, with perfect hair and nails, is a great dresser with a sense of subdued fashion where she picks outfits that flatter her complexion and figure. Not quite five feet tall, with her full-bodied hair pulled back into a tight ponytail right now, her skin is smooth, her features sharp, hazel eyes bright. She thinks her Polish nose is too large for her face, but I've always though it gave her character, and that it's not so much large as the rest of her features are delicate, with sharp eyebrows, piercing pupils, fine lips and subdued but noticeable chin and cheekbones on her round face. She looks so good naturally that she doesn't really need to wear makeup, and often doesn't, and she looks a good ten years younger than her 54 years. She was gorgeous, and I wished she could see herself through my eyes. She was also blessed with generous proportions, with DD breasts with eraser nipples and medium-brown areola, a defined waistline and generous ass. She also hated her figure, and the soft belly that had accumulated after three kids and a battle with hypothyroidism, but it was invisible to me. The only thing I didn't like about her body was that she hated it. I loved touching her, looking at her, holding her. I wish she could just relax and accept herself. But I'd come to accept that she never would.

We'd been having some hard times for years; while I'd felt our marriage had always been exceptionally good, our sex life had fallen off more and more until it was barely anything. I guess, to be honest with myself, the issue was just as much mine as hers. I've always had a high sex drive, and we used to be in pretty good alignment, and things were good. And she also enjoyed the roleplays I did dor us, and I was able to get a feel for her sexual fantasies as we talked and as I told her dirty stories, discovering what made her hot and wet as my words spun tales for us as foreplay.

But, with her health issues, and as we got older and the kids took so much of our time, well, things just kind of died out, and her libido tanked. I got her some medical treatment that helped for a while, but my need for sex that was frequent, enthusiastic, adventurous and occasionally time-consuming... well, my needs stopped getting met. We had repeated conversations about it, and I tried to make her see that I needed more and better, and that I was sexually starving... but it just didn't seem to register, and it seemed that she didn't care. And what is the dividing line between getting one's needs met, and being selfish? Between being an overly demanding jerk, and getting the sexual satisfaction you crave and require? I jerked off a lot, and made occasional forays out to the strip club to see some live boobs, and chatted with folks on adult sites online, but the things I did sometimes caused issues and made her think I was cheating on her, and things really started to get worse and worse for us.

Finally, after talking to a therapist about it on-and-off for years, and working up my courage over 18 months, and having a number of conversations about it that never seemed to help, I grew some balls and had the hard, direct conversation with her that we needed to have. I honestly love the woman, I want to stay with her... but I needed sex, and I had come to the conclusion that it would never get better. But to my surprise, after this very hard talk, she stepped up, finally realizing that it felt to me like she didn't care, and while I'd been asking for it for years, I refused to demand or beg. And she finally accepted that I hadn't ever cheated on her, because of how much I knew it would hurt her.

So here we were. Trying to get back into the groove.

Chapter 3

I had originally wanted to do our roleplay a couple weeks prior, when we had found ourselves alone in the house without any of our teens for the first time in six months. It was the time of COVID-19, so no one was getting much alone time. Our oldest had left for college a few weeks earlier, our middle guy was at a buddy's, and our youngest was out with friends until 11pm. I had planned to suggest she put on her halloween costume that she'd worn once before... but before I could do so, she'd beat me to the punch by suggesting we put the eyebolts in the rafters of our basement gym to good use. So we'd happily made it a night of bondage and fucking instead.

But now it was a few weeks later, and we again had a few hours alone, and I wanted to get her into that uniform this time. Although I might want to get her out of it again pretty quickly, I thought to myself with a smile.

"Hey," I said as I came through the door from the garage, back from dropping our daughter off. Mary Kay was sitting in her chair crocheting a project, the bay window behind her bathing the room in sunlight. She looked up over her glasses as I approached, pausing her stitches. "Hey yourself."

I grinned at her hugely, "So... I'm thinking you'd look pretty good in that short skirt and white blouse right now... and you sure have been naughty."

I knew she'd be hesitant, but I'd been thinking about this for a bit, so I'd already suggested a couple role-play ideas to her previously the last time we had had sex, telling her a story of roughly what I planned to do to her... so she knew what she would be getting into.

"Okay," she agreed slowly, with a slight head shake and eye roll. I knew she wasn't so much rejecting me, as overcoming her own insecurities. It was always hard to get her going.

"Great," I replied, trying to get just the right amount --but not too much-- of enthusiasm in my voice. "Why don't you go get your shower, and I'll bring what I want you to wear into the bathroom for you while you're showering. Pick out some cotton panties and a sexy bra. Oh, and you have something like Mary Janes, right?"

She hesitated before she answered, but then said in a voice that was half cheerful, half exasperated, "Yeah, I've got something. But I don't have the right socks."

I chucked, "I do. Got them with the outfit."

As I knew she'd do, she shook her head. "I feel really silly and self-conscious putting that thing on."

"Yeah, you do," I agreed. "But you know I always show you a good time. And you liked the story I told you the other night. Unless there's something else you want to do?"

She looked down at her crocheting. "No. If that's what you want."

I felt that sort of queasy, anxious feeling I got at times like these, as I tried to negotiate her into doing something fun and break her out of the inertia of getting her off her ass in her chair and into bed to do something she was hesitant to do. I had to put just the right amount of pressure, but not too much. The right amount of enthusiasm, but not too much. The right amount of confidence and humor... but not too much. It was a high-wire act, and stressful, and frustrating. But dammit, I knew she would enjoy it. And that's what I enjoyed the most, her enjoyment, and pleasure. And for fuck's sake, it was what I needed. The thing that gets me off the most is her excitement, and giving her several huge orgasms, which is what gives me my own. Things had been fucked up with us for ages, and still were, kind of. I had lost the ability to get her excited for quite a while, and all my tricks had stopped working, and I had thought our sex life was irrevocably dead. But, she was trying again. And I was grateful. But nervous, and still struggling to not be frustrated, but flexible. And she was trying.

"Great. Once you finish your shower, I'll need you to report to my office in the basement, Miss Heath. But I have a few things to get ready first," I grinned. Heath was her maiden name.

"Okay," she replied, accepting her fate. "Give me a couple minutes to get up there."

"Sure. Let me get your outfit for you, I'll see you when you come up."

I left her sitting in the chair and headed up to our bedroom to start getting the stuff I'd need.

Chapter 4

Since the kids have become older teens, I've relaxed on keeping our grown-up stuff quite as well locked up as I used to. For a long time, I just didn't want them stumbling or snooping into stuff they'd be happier not knowing anything about. I had a keypad safe for stuff we used with some regularity, and kept our bondage stuff, more elaborate toys and costumes in a couple mini-padlocked hard cases. One of our kids was a rummager, but apparently I did a good enough job that he never found anything, which was a relief. My own parents were beyond indiscreet, and I didn't want to scar our kids the way I had been. No kid should be looking at Polaroids of his parents having sex, or handing their sex toys.

Anyway, as the coast was now clear, and as they'd reached the point where they knew they didn't want to snoop, I had recently moved our toys and costumes to drawers in my bedside table drawer. It was from there that I quickly pulled out the costume, which was still in its Halloween-type packaging. We had had another one in a larger size that she had worn once, but when she lost so much weight after getting her hypothyroidism worked out, there was no way that one would fit her. So, I'd bought a new one in 'small' for her; I hoped it would fit and I thought it should. I also had gotten knee socks for her, but could only get black, so I got her a pair of white thigh-high stockings as well, and she could choose. Either would do. I also had bought her a pair of high-heeled Mary Janes with the old outfit that weren't quite as absurd as they sounded, and looked sexy, but she didn't like wearing them last time, so I'll let her wear the pair of Mary Jane-like shoes she had picked up one summer a year or two back. Plus, as a bonus, not wearing the heels made her shorter, and I liked her short in our roleplays, to emphasize the power difference that was critical to the scene.

I placed the outfit on the bathroom counter, debated a quick rinse off... then decided that a quick shower and shave was in order, so I shucked my clothes and hopped into the shower. I wanted to be clean and smell good for her. Just as I was getting out she ambled in, noticing the school girl costume right away. She looked at it as I toweled off.

"This is really silly," she remarked.

"Yes. Yes, it is. And sexy. And you'll be putting it on for me, woman."

She looked at me, slightly raising one arched eyebrow. Before she could say anything else, I continued. "And find those Mary Janes you have before you get in the shower. You have an appointment with the Principal soon."

She got a funny expression on her face as I finished both speaking and drying off, something between annoyance, exasperation... and arousal. "I can't believe you make me do this stuff."

I gave her a kiss on the cheek, bending slightly as I walked by. "You love it. You just don't like to admit it. Now get your shoes and whatever else you need... young lady. I need to get dressed and get things ready."

Muttering, she moved slowly, picking underwear out of her bureau, and grumbling as she poked around looking for her shoes. She had to go look in the spare bedroom where she had managed to fill the two closets there with shoes and additional clothes as well, coming back with a shoebox just as I had finished buttoning my shirt, and was reaching for my pants. I'd be dressing the part of the firm, annoyed disciplinarian College Dean, which would require dress shoes and tie, although I'd skip the jacket. But I cleaned up pretty well... and the disproportion of her in a silly college outfit, and me looking sharp and trim in a button-down and tie would further emphasize the inequality of our power levels in the role, and make it that much hotter for both of us.

Power play is part of the fun of roleplay. In our marriage, Mary Kay and I like to say we have a marriage of equals, but really she gets her way on pretty much everything, and I work hard to support her in the lifestyle she demands. That's been changing a bit in the past few years, as the kids become grown, but mostly for the past 25 years I've happily provided the life she wants. She can be bitchy and demanding, and for most of our marriage, our occasional infrequent roleplay sessions have been a pressure valve for both of us. I think there's something in many of us ---particularly those who are in charge, or have a psychological control need to be in charge--- to not be in charge once in a while. And that's even more so for women in this era of gender equality. They say women are historically unaccustomed to being equals in the United States, much less dominant, and as a result they crave a man who can take charge of them, their lives and their sexual needs, and for a short time, fuck their brains out. Having sensitive, caring, liberated feminist men can be exhausting, and unsatisfying, and I think many women nowadays crave a man who can take control, and be assertive and dominant, and demand what they want... even --and especially-- if it's dirty sex stuff that nice girls aren't supposed to do or want do. Being ordered to do something takes the shame and stigma out of it somehow, and lets the submissive one relax into it and enjoy themselves, because they "have no choice." Human psychology sure is interesting. Mary Kay and I have been especially lucky in our marriage that I can turn that on once in a while and --with her approval-- give her what she needs, and what I need by association. I love being in charge for a bit, and then afterwards, go back, relaxed and satiated, to our regular relationship of equals, or whatever the hell it is that we have.

But she finds it hard to let go, to get into it sometimes, and she'll fight back, drag feet, be snippy, resistant or aggressive. And these moments when we're changing from one power structure to another is fraught; I don't want to fuck up our relationship, get into a fight, or turn her off so much it derails our night and I don't get laid. And there have been times where some or all of those things have happened. So, mostly I need to have the emotional intelligence to figure it out on the fly. It ain't easy. She wants to be pushed, but not too much, but she wants to submit and be told what to do, but maybe not now, or not too much... so I have to decide when to back off... but five minutes later after she's gotten used to the idea now it's okay... and suddenly I am not being assertive enough for her. If you heard a mental groan there, you heard correctly.

Sometimes I think it would be easier if she were just a plain old submissive. I've chatted with guys online who have submissive wives, and even dated a girl who was submissive when I was young, although I didn't realize that's what she was at the time. But honestly, I don't want a submissive partner. I want a vibrant, opinionated, confident, even bitchy woman who is my equal, and doesn't passively wait for me to tell her what to do. I want an equal, someone who is invested in making her life awesome, and encourages me to make mine the same way. No marriage is perfect, but I've been proud and happy to call Mary Kay my wife. Yeah, this shit is hard. And even though I wonder sometimes if lifestyle couples have it easier, I tend to doubt it. Never getting any relief from those roles sounds even more exhausting than what Mary Kay and I have. But I guess for some it just comes naturally.