#202) Lost In Thought

Betty’s lucid mind is working on two levels simultaneously.
Part of her mind hears her husband’s car pulling into the garage; he’ll be walking through the door in just a moment.
The other part of her mind is far away, both lost in thought and racing through the many details that Betty’s been mentally checking-off her list…
I’m freshly bathed, with special attention focused on my naughty bits, she told herself, reassuringly trying to calm her mind that she had worked soapy fingers deep into both her tight holes. Then she’d shaven her legs, pussy lips, and arm pits smooth.
Betty had given her thick hair a vigorous brushing and put on her favorite negligee. The hairbrush rested on the seat cushion of a nearby straight-backed chair right behind her. It was an implement that John enjoyed using on her bottom. This thought made Betty’s bum tingle with anticipation. I’m ready, she told herself.
She didn’t know it, but no matter what she could’ve done in preparation, Betty would have been found wanting by her husband, who was in one of his dark moods. No sooner did she hear the door slam behind him than she heard his booming voice.
“I like a roaring fire in the fireplace when it’s this cold outside,” he curtly told her. Betty jumped to put another two logs on the medium sized flames. The movement exposed the soles of Betty’s feet, which had become slightly dirty because she’d remained barefoot since her bath. John pointed this fact out to Betty, citing it as proof that the house’s floors were not as spotless as they should be.
In a trice, Betty found herself across her husband’s lap, her short nightie being raised above her waist, and that hairbrush tapping her right butt cheek menacingly. She’d so hoped that John would be pleased with her, with all her many efforts, and lovingly bestow a good girl spanking to her bottom, warming her cool flesh slightly, reddening her fair complected cheeks to a glowing pink, stinging just enough to make her ache for sex. Instead, they both knew that she was in for it.
“I think you ought to count these out loud as they’re administered,” John pronounced, then raised the brush high overhead.
“Oooh!” Betty gurgled in response to the wickedly harsh wallop that burned into her consciousness. “One, sir. Thank you! May I have another to help me improve?”
WHOMP! The hairbrush answered her query.
Through her tears, Betty enunciated, “Two, sir. Thank you very much for being hard on me. I need it! May I have another?”
Betty wasn’t well-upholstered back there, was just a shapely slip of a girl. So John paddled her pert cheeks thoroughly, then parted her wide so as to paddle her crack and tender rosebud, as well as her thighs, both the backs and the inner smoothness. Because he’d forced her thighs apart to punish her in these esoteric, sensitive spots, John had a clear view of Betty’s pussy, as he contemplated paddling her there, too.
“Look at you!” he sneered, “Crying and begging my mercy, but your sex is engorged and oozing cum! You’re a little whore, a pain-slut, I ought to beat you like this more often!”
Betty couldn’t deny it. Although the beating had hurt mightily, her Judas of a sex drive had gotten turned-on, nonetheless.
He fingered her slit, and she reacted as if his hand completed the electrical circuit and jolted her with hundreds of volts. “You’re on the edge of climaxing, aren’t you, whore?”
Betty couldn’t deny this either. She nodded in silence.
“You don’t deserve to receive pleasuring,” her husband hissed, as he plunged the slightly moistened digit up the poor girl’s rosebud and pushed her off his lap onto the floor. The goosing of her anal aperture had hurt as well as surprised her, and she looked back at her husband as she rubbed at the pain. She saw him unzip his pants. She immediately knew what was to come; it wouldn’t be a pleasurable visit up her anus by his erect member. John planned to punish her with a sodomizing with only the little bit of lubricant his jism-moistened finger had just provided. Something in Betty snapped.
“No!” she proclaimed. “No!” she repeated when he didn’t seem dissuaded from getting out is stiff cock. Betty lunged from the floor to seize a poker from the fireplace tools set. She held it with two hands like a baseball bat, and stabbed its pointed end at her husband to keep him from advancing on her further. “You will not take me up my bottom as punishment. You will never touch my butt hole ever again, or my sex, or my boobs, or… I’m sick and tired of working ceaselessly to please you, and only receiving criticism and punishment! We both know that I benefit from your strong admonishing hand when I deserve it, but I haven’t deserved it for a long time, yet that’s all I’ve received! It’s over, John, I’m divorcing you. If you ever try to touch me again, I’ll beat your head in with this poker…” then she lowered the weapon to point towards his rapidly shrinking cock, “and then beat that head in, too!”
John backed-up three paces. This did not calm Betty.
“Get out. I’m going to have the locks changed on all the doors this very evening. Our lawyers will work out the details for when you can come get some of your belongings when I’m not here. Until then, don’t come back and don’t try to contact me. Good-bye!”
She heard the front door slam again, heard his car door and then the engine, as he drove away in a huff. God, that had felt good, she told herself. She’d call the locksmith in a few moments. Right now she was too keyed-up. She knew what she needed. Betty laid down on the floor in front of the now-roaring fire, and pulled her sexy nightie up above her waist. One hand played at her pussy, while the other reached around back and started slapping her drum of an ass smartly. She gave herself a good girl spanking that fueled the orgasm her fingers inspired. Even though it was dusk, it was the first day in the rest of Betty’s life, and she wanted to start the journey off in the best way possible.

4 responses to “#202) Lost In Thought”

  1. It’s wonderful to read that despite all your desire for humiliation, you’re taking care of yourself.
    This is very important, especially for us submissive people.
    You are a great woman, dear Jean-Marie.

    Liked by 1 person

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