Wayward Ellen

"You're quite the little cheat, aren't you Ellie? Going down to the Shore with Ed; fucking Tommy in his car on Staten Island. This is what happens to bad wives who get caught."

I was getting a feeling that was not quite righteous anger - it was more like righteous pleasure if there was such a thing. I became less inhibited about lifting my hand high and giving her a vigorous whacking.

"Come on already, please . . ." she said.

"Please what? Harder and faster?"

"No, not that."

I felt I was in charge so I did smack her harder. And I wanted to tease her as well as be stern with her. "What is that song again, Dance to the Music? Ellie, honey, you're facing the music now and your ass is dancing to it."

"That's not even funny."

"What the hell, I think it is."

After some more of this I wanted a pause so I stopped and I just rubbed her. "Man, you're really hot down here," I said, genuinely surprised. My own hand was also so hot and sore it seemed to be vibrating. They had it wrong, I thought, revenge is a dish best served hot, right on Ellie's squirming backside.

I asked, "Does that feel better, I mean the rubbing?" I knew that I liked doing it, I liked feeling her solid hips beneath her heated skin.

She sniffled perhaps, "A little bit."

As for myself, I was feeling great. There was something else unexpected about all this; it was very sexually exciting. I had a big erection; I was sure she could feel it through the cloth of my pants.

I decided to mix up the punishment with the rubbing, mainly to give my hand some relief but also because I was curious about the results. It was soon apparent that Ellen's reaction was changing. As I spanked her further her yips were more like moans, and she moved herself against my lap. At one point she planted her feet on the floor and raised her bottom even more. I guessed that she wanted me to catch her just behind her crotch so I did just that.

I need more evidence, so I dropped a hint, "Maybe this is almost over."

"No, not yet, don't stop."

"Really? Maybe you're starting to like it?"

"Sort of. I sort of don't like it and like it at the same time."

I wish Hank had told me about this; I was on my own now. Later on I would understand better what she meant. A little more teasing seemed in order now.

"You should see your bottom now, you wouldn't recognize it."

She was breathing heavily but she didn't seem angry or upset when replying, "I know, I'm so warm down there. I mean all over."

"You know what else? I've got a huge boner right now."

"Of course, I've been feeling it," she said. I continued slapping and then rubbing her behind. To conclude my experimentation, I put my hand between her legs and put a couple of fingers into her.

"You bad dirty girl. You're all wet, really hot and bothered aren't you? Your clit is hard too, I bet."

"It just happened that way. Please, don't toy with me."

"Don't toy with you? Maybe I should gave you some more then." I brought my hand down for more hard and fast whacks which made her gasp. After that I fondled her again. With that she moved her hips against mine and she pressed her crotch down on me.

I still liked ragging on her, "You're quite the slutty little chick, throwing yourself at every guy who looks at you. From now on I'm really going to have to keep an eye on you." This wasn't like my usual way of speaking but I thought I was doing pretty well.

Then she looked at me over her shoulder for the first time. Her gray-green eyes could be very intense during a certain kind of look like the one she was giving me now. My instructions from Uncle Hank now appeared to be difficult to implement. At the end I was supposed to give her a stern summary of the previous mini-lectures. Then she was to stand against the wall and display her punished ass while I had a vodka and tonic or something else to my liking.

All of that was rapidly becoming moot. She said, "Wouldn't you like a little something for yourself? Wouldn't you like it right now?

Ellie didn't wait for an answer. In a few seconds she was up and pulling me off the chair. "Get on the bed," was all she said. When I sat on the edge of the sofa-bed she came over and straddled me. Then she reached down for my zipper and undid my pants.

I pretended to be annoyed, "You Jezebel, you little Delilah, you're using the oldest tricks in the book on me, aren't you?"

By now my pants were down, she was grasping my cock and I knew she had the situation under her control. "What do you care?" she replied. "You're loving this, I know you want to get fucked as soon as possible."

I didn't bother with a counter-reply. She slipped one leg out of her pantyhose and panties and she positioned herself over me. I asked, "Don't you want a little more warm-up, I mean of your pussy?"

"Believe me, I'm just fine," she said as she guided me into her. As I sat on the edge of the bed I could look past her to our reflections in the mirror.

"You should see what your ass looks like now." I think she was truly surprised as she glanced back and saw her own reddened bottom.

"My God, what did you do to me?"

"Only what had to be done; bringing you down a few pegs I'd say. And I had a big canvas to work on."

"Oh, you . . ." That was only a brief interruption; she began to move up and down on me. As she did that I unbuttoned her blouse. She briefly stopped to undo the back of her bra; she knew I could be a klutz at getting that simple act done.

I soon realized that this was some of the most enthusiastic sex we had had in quite some time. A certain amount of, call it routine, had slowly developed without us really noticing it. I remembered another line from Erica Jong, "Even if you loved your [husband/wife] there came the inevitable year when fucking turned as bland as Velveeta Cheese: filling, fattening even, but no thrill to the taste buds, no bittersweet edge. . ."

Maybe that was changing now. I held her hips - taking care to avoid the sore places - as she held my shoulders and her tits bounced in my face. She was putting a lot of unrestrained motion into this and the way she was moaning - the sheer amount of noise of it which was more like yelling - was remarkable.

Her orgasm cries were the loudest I had heard during the six years I had been with her. Maybe we're finally consummating this marriage in the way it always should have been done. That inspired me to shoot up into her a few seconds later. Whatever I said during that was not in coherent English.

When we were done we fell over and held each other on the bed. For some moments we just stayed silent to let our breathing return to normal. I wondered about how much detail I should reveal to Uncle Hank the next time I saw him. In any case I owed him several rounds of drinks at the bar of his choice.

Ellen got in the first words, "Maybe I might need to be - what is the word, chastised? - I mean again, sometime soon."

I hadn't expected that but it seemed like a fine idea, "Yeah, okay, I'm sure some issue will require that."

Something else was on my mind. "It occurred to me, this might work in the other direction too," I said. "You know, like when I leave a mess on the kitchen counter." The messy counter issue was often a small but niggling point of contention between us.

She knew exactly what I meant, "Oh no, I could never do that to you."

"I bet you could." I remembered what she was like when angry at me. She didn't do much shouting; it was just a slow, fairly quiet tensing up, often followed by the silent treatment. I went on, "You're not some dainty chick. I know you've got a good strong arm. I bet you could wield a ruler in the best schoolmarm tradition."

I saw her smiling at me. "Maybe, you've been a very bad boy yourself at times." I was wondering what it would like to be the position she had just been in, and it wasn't merely idle curiosity.

I said, "I know I have, I may need some on the seat of my naughty boy pants."

"And then I need to take those pants down to make sure the job was done correctly." How did she come up with that? Being with Ellen could be difficult but it rarely was dull. An imaginary letter to an advice column went through my mind.

Dear Abby: Sometimes the old methods are the best. Whenever my wife and I get into some deadlock that threatens to become a series of grudges and grievances, one of us will give the other a sound bare-ass spanking and then we'll f____ each other like minxes. Seems like good results every time.

Maybe Abby would reply: If it works for you, who am I to disagree? I'm posting this in my column so that other readers might provide their own insights into this matter.

Ellen was now rubbing her behind, "Man, I'm going to feel this tomorrow at work, when I'm sitting down I mean."

I could picture her there in her crisp outfit, fidgeting a bit as her ass pressed against her chair.

"Get a cushion or pillow or something and sit on that." That was one of the points of this, I realized; the effects would last for a few days as a reminder.

She said, "I'm going to want to go in the ladies room and play with myself."

"Use the handle of your hairbrush; that always works, doesn't it?"

"It sure does. I will be thinking of you."

"You had better." Fortunately she laughed at that.

I said, "Maybe the family that spanks together, stays together."

"That doesn't even rhyme."

"Hey, they can't all be gems." Then I kissed her.

******

[The Elephant and Castle restaurant still exists in Greenwich Village.]