Spanking Stories for Misbehaving Men 2: a femdom anthology by Lucy Appleby

Author:Lucy Appleby [Appleby, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: LSF Publications
Published: 2017-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

---oOo---

Hilary staggered up the path with the shopping bags. Setting them down while she reached for her key, she peered through the front window, and there as predicted, was John. He was stretched out on the sofa with a bag of salted peanuts and a can of beer, and he was waving and shouting at the television set.

"Come on you fucker - oh yeah - that's it ... lovely throw!" he cried as Hilary entered the room. Without even turning his head or greeting her he merely said, "Get me some more nuts will you." When there was no response he sat up and saw the laden shopping bags in the doorway. "Have you got me something nice? I'm starving."

"Where were you?" asked Hilary, her tone icy.

"Ssssh," hissed John, his eyes on the TV screen again.

"I said WHERE WERE YOU?"

"Eh?"

"You were supposed to collect me from the supermarket at three. I phoned several times but you didn't answer."

"I was watching the darts." He reached for the remote and turned up the volume.

That was the last straw as far as Hilary was concerned. She strode forward and switched off the television, snatched the remote and put it in her pocket.

"What the ...? Hey - switch it back on, woman!"

"I'll do no such thing, you inconsiderate, lazy sod." Taking the hairbrush from her shoulder bag, she advanced towards the sofa.

"I was watching that! Put it back on. Hurry up - I'm missing it! Gah ... give me the bloody remote and I'll do it myself."

"I'm going to give you something, but not the remote," said Hilary. "Stand up."

John blinked. Hilary could be a bit fierce at times, but there was something in her tone that disturbed him. "Aw, come on Hils. I'm watching the darts."

"You were watching the darts. Now stand up. We're going to get a few things sorted once and for all."

With a dramatic and petulant sigh, John got to his feet, sending a shower of salted nuts onto the carpet. He stood with his arms folded, a sulky, annoyed expression on his face.

Hilary positioned herself in the middle of the sofa. "Hands by your sides," she barked.

John complied and stared at her sullenly. "I'm missing the darts," he wined. "It's not fair."

"Not fair? I'll tell you what's not fair. It's not fair that I work full time, and come home to find you sprawled out watching TV every night. You never lend a hand, even when I ask you. Who does the cooking, the cleaning, the gardening, the shopping? I do. And it seems to me that I do everything, while you slob around drinking beer and gorging yourself on junk food, expecting me to constantly clean up after you."

"So? That sort of stuff is woman's work."

That was quite the wrong thing to say. Hilary's face burned with rage, but she kept her voice calm as she said, "Take down your sweat pants."

"What?"

"You heard me. Take them down. Underpants too."

For a moment he wavered, but the unexpected prospect of sex did have a certain appeal, and it might help to rid his wife of her bad mood.

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