tagLoving WivesPaying The Rent

Paying The Rent


Debbie stood there, looking at the cock standing up in front of her and she just knew that she'd slipped up.

Damn it. It was all George's fault. If he hadn't got sick that day and given her the rent to pay, none of this would have happened. There was this dress you see, and then she was fifty dollars short in the rent and she had just sort of putting it off for a few days.

Then Mr. Swanson, the owner had dropped around to see if there was a problem, and did they need an extension? He was very nice about it, but...

Debbie had explained that her husband had been sick for a few days. The money was in the bank, but they were fifty short. George was working on the weekend and he would have the money then, so could Mr. Swanson come by on Monday and collect it?

Debbie was fairly certain that she could get the extra fifty out of George by then, one way or another.

Mr. Swanson had nodded agreeably and taken himself off, and Debbie had set to work on her husband. She was rather staggered to find his weekend work wasn't cash in hand. He was sending them an invoice.

So Monday came, as did Mr. Swanson. Debbie promptly launched into her explanation.

"Oh, my god. I forgot all about you. I didn't think to tell my husband and now he's at work. I'm so sorry. Can you come back on Wednesday?"

Mr. Swanson was now smelling the distinct odour of rat. He was getting the run-around, and he let Debbie see that he knew it. However, he could put it off to Wednesday for her, but penalties might have to be applied if she delayed it much longer.

By Wednesday, Debbie was getting frustrated and nervous. George, the tight fisted bastard, just wasn't letting her have that extra fifty. Just pointing out that he didn't have it. As it was, she had to make another excuse to Mr. Swanson, and could he come on Friday.

Mr. Swanson was now feeling a little hostile. He flatly refused to believe that her husband and coughed up the rent but that she'd lost that extra fifty, so was still short.

"It seems to me, Debbie, that you're not being strictly truthful. I'm going to have to start applying penalties, and it will go against your husband's record."

Plan B immediately came into effect, tears, another apology and a confession.

"I'm sorry," she wept. "George gave me the full rent, but I saw this dress and I just had to buy it, and that's where the money went. But I will tell George and get the money for you. If you could just come back on Friday?"

Mr. Swanson was feeling rather irritated with this silly woman. She might be a lovely goose, but she was still a goose. George had his sympathy.

"It seems to me, that what you need is a negative incentive."

Debbie looked at him, suspicious. "What do you mean, a negative incentive?"

"An incentive is something that gives you a reason for doing something, like a reward or punishment. Hence, positive or negative incentives. What I propose is to give you a spanking to teach you not to give me the run-around, and it will act as a negative incentive in that you'll take steps to get the rent together to avoid further punishment."

Debbie had zeroed straight in on that word, spanking.

"You wouldn't dare," she gasped.

"Or I suppose I can come back this evening and talk to your husband," mused Mr. Swanson.

Game, set and match. Debbie yielded gracefully to the inevitable.

Actually, she yielded to the inevitable, but not gracefully. Mr. Swanson was quite surprised at her vocabulary.

Mr. Swanson sat on the couch and indicated she should bend over his knee. Debbie did so, muttering under her breath all the while. She was burning with embarrassment, and her face got even redder when Mr. Swanson flicked up her dress, leaving her bottom exposed in a pair of pale yellow lacy panties.

Debbie gave a strangled squeak when those panties suddenly made a trip south, leaving her bottom exposed. She hastily jammed her legs together to prevent lecherous eye from exploring further.

"Why'd you do that," she demanded furiously.

"Be reasonable, Debbie," said Mr. Swanson. "You must surely know that a good spanking is always on a bare bottom."

"No, I didn't know it," grumbled Debbie, "and I still don't know it. I think you did it just because you wanted to see my bottom."

Mr. Swanson didn't deign to answer this slur on his character, partly because it was true. Debbie had a fine bottom and he enjoyed observing it. Now however, it was time for a little fun.

His hand came down with an explosive swat, more noise and fury than actual pain, but it certainly sounded like a good spank. Debbie squealed enthusiastically, sure that she was being murdered and the pain would come later.

Mr. Swanson continued on his merry way, the spanking mainly consisting off him popping his hand against her bottom, but every so often letting loose with a proper spank that definitely stung.

For the entire event, Debbie squeaked and squalled and acted as though she was in fear of her life.

Finally satisfied that she had got the message, Mr. Swanson left off.

"Please remember what just happened, Debbie, and then consider what might happen if you don't have the rent by Friday."

Unable to resist, Mr. Swanson gently poked a finger through the gap at the top of her legs, prodding her pussy with one long finger while commenting.

"You will notice that I acted the perfect gentleman and didn't touch you here," he said, taking his time to withdraw his trespassing finger.

Debbie gave another squeak of fright and hastily pulled up her panties, not realising that she was facing Mr. Swanson at the time, giving him an excellent view of her pussy.

Friday came and with it, Mr. Swanson and further problems for Debbie.

She quickly handed him the rent and then waited nervously while he counted it before preparing the receipt.

Mr. Swanson Looked at Debbie and sighed. "You are one hundred dollars short," he observed. "The idea was to find the missing fifty, not spend another."

"It wasn't my fault," she said. "Honest. There were these shoes that matched the dress and you can see I had to get them. I'll get the extra and pay you on Monday, honest."

"I don't think so. I want to finalise this now, and I did warn you about incentives."

"I know," mourned Debbie, looking at the floor, "and I won't blame you if you want to spank me again. I guessed you might."

Looking back up, Debbie stood there, now seeing the cock standing up in front of her and she just knew that she'd slipped up.

Debbie had this odd mixture of butterflies in the tummy and a strange hot excitement further down. Debbie had seen more than one erection in her time, and she knew that they came in different sizes, but the one that she was looking at right now seemed suspiciously large. It was probably, she decided, a combination of not wanting anything to do with it and the fact that Mr. Swanson is a fairly small man that makes that thing look larger than normal.

She sighed. "I don't like giving blow jobs," she muttered quietly.

"How fortunate for you then that I don't expect you to give me one," she was promptly told.

"You don't mean you expect me to let you...?" her voice trailed off.

"Yes, I do. Or I shall have to explain what's been going on to husband. Including the spanking on your bare bottom that you insisted I give you."

Debbie stared at him, shocked.

"I did no such thing," she protested. "He wouldn't believe you anyway."

"Even when I tell him you shave your lovely pussy and have this little brown spot just next to the top of your slit? I observed it when you pulled up your panties and flashed me at the same time." he added.

Seeing the guilty blush on her face, it suddenly dawned on Mr. Swanson that she had flashed him deliberately. He had been assuming it was just lucky chance and absent mindedness on her part.

Reaching down, Mr. Swanson tapped himself lightly. "Come on, clothes off now. Our friend here is waiting."

Debbie reached under her dress and pulled her panties down, and turned to bend over the table.

"That is not undressing," she was promptly informed, "and I don't want you to bend over. I want you to just lean back so that you can see me enter you."

Debbie swore under her breath and finished undressing. Then acting on Mr. Swanson's instructions, she leant back against the table, legs apart.

Mr. Swanson started slowly, playing with her pussy while using his mouth to tease her nipples erect and start funny little feeling emanate out from her breasts. Fingers playing, he stroked and teased her pussy, turning the warm excitement that had been forming into a burning need.

Debbie watched as Mr. Swanson tilted his cock down a little, lining it up with her pussy. The closer it came, the more she realised that the reason it looked larger than normal was because it was larger than normal. Debbie squealed as it started to press between her lips.

Debbie continued squealing, alternating with gasps, as Mr. Swanson steadily drove into her. She could feel it filling her, stretching her, and suspected it was reaching virgin territory inside her.

Then he was finally in, gently grinding his pubes against her.

"Now that you have seen me enter, you can turn around if you like?" came the gentle suggestion.

Debbie stare at Mr, Swanson, puzzled.

"How," she asked. "You've practically nailed me to the table with that thing."

Mr. Swanson laughed. "Give me your leg," he said, holding out his hand.

Shifting her weight to one foot, Debbie lifted her leg. Mr. Swanson took it, ran his hand down to her ankle and then rotated her leg upwards until

She was doing a vertical split. Then he rotated her slightly, and she could feel his cock turning within her, and then her leg was descending and she was facing the other way, bent over the table with Mr. Swanson's cock still hard up inside her pussy.

Debbie felt a jolt, and realised that Mr. Swanson was starting to settle down for some serious cock work. He started pumping her, hard and fast, and she bobbed her hips in time to his demands. If she had to do this, she might as well enjoy it.

A niggly little thought came to her. Could she do that splits thing and rotate by herself? The idea ate at her, and finally she asked Mr. Swanston to hold still for a moment.

Amused he did so, waiting to see what she wanted to do.

Putting her weight on one foot she lifted the other, using her hand to help guide her until she was doing the vertical split. Before she could rotate and drop her leg back down, Mr. Swanson intervened.

His hand snaked up and caught her leg, holding her at the high point of the vertical splits. Then he thrust vigorously into her, hearing her squeal with surprise. Debbie found herself helpless. She literally could not move, not even to move her pussy in time with his thrusts. She could only stand there, poised on one foot while he drove repeatedly into her.

Debbie was fascinated by what was happening. She found she liked being totally helpless, unable to move while he ravaged her helpless body. It was exciting, more, exhilarating.

Then Mr. Swanson had released her, letting her leg drop back to the ground and she was now facing him, her hips moving energetically against him, seeking to make up for lost time.

"God," Debbie thought. "This is fun and exciting. I don't want this to stop."

Mr. Swanson reached down and hooked Debbie's leg up around his waist. Swiftly the other one joined it, while his arms went around her and clasped her to him. Then he was walking, carrying her across the room sitting on his cock, little jolts going through her with every step.

Reaching a rug he knelt, tilting Debbie slowly back until she was flat on her back on the rug, and Mr. Swanson was lying on her, pinning her there. He lifted his head and smiled down at her and then rolled, moving onto his back while she lay on top of him.

"Your turn, Debbie," he announced. "I'm just going to lie here while you do all the work."

Debbie paused, not sure what to do. Men had always screwed her, not expected her to screw them. She just lay on him for a few moments, feeling his cock resting there inside her.

"I can do what I like," she realised. "This is going to be fun."

She straightened up to sit straddling him, feeling his cock dragging against her and sending those exciting little signals racing through her body. She giggled and wriggled, laughing as her victim gasped. Ha. She was in control and dictating how and how fast they screwed.

Debbie rocked back and forth, she rolled from side to side, she bounced up and down, trying to see how far she could push Mr. Swanson without actually causing either of them to climax.

Quite a way and for quite a while it seemed, thrilled when she heard him groan or gasp under her administrations. And she had to admit, she was doing her share of gasping, groaning, squealing and just plain hissing as she contorted herself around Mr. Swanson's weapon.

But there was a breaking point, and Debbie realised she had found it when she suddenly found herself flat on her back while Mr. Swanson pounded furiously into her.

She screamed, bucking hard up against him, and then shook as her climax rolled over her in a series of shuddering waves.

Later, Mr. Swanson drew over the receipt book and signed a receipt for the full rental amount.

"It might be best, Debbie, if you suggested to your husband that he sets up an automatic bank transferal for the rent. Then none of us will have to worry about you accidentally spending it on clothes."

Debbie watched him leave before heading into the bedroom to rescue her hundred dollars of shoe money from under the pillow. It hadn't been the spanking she'd been expecting, but she'd survived his negative incentive and now was free to shop. She really wanted those shoes.

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