The Housewife

She heard the front door opening and froze. DAMMIT. She'd been hoping she would maybe be able to get away with it, but now here he was, expecting a dinner that was still twenty minutes off from being ready.

She heard him putting down his briefcase and taking off his hat and jacket, and knew she only had a few precious moments to come up with an explanation for why his dinner was not on the table like he insisted on. But she was too scared to come up with anything that sounded believable.

Then, she heard him walking to the kitchen and standing in the doorway, but could not bring herself to turn to face him, instead focusing all her attention on mashing the pot of potatoes that were already plenty mashed.

Each moment that went by without him speaking just made her more nervous. Finally: "You know I expect my dinner to be waiting for me when I get home from work, Alex." That terrible low voice he used sometimes when she was in trouble, so much scarier than a raised one.

She wiped her hands on her daisy-printed apron and finally turned, doing her best to give him a bright and innocent smile. "Hi, honey! Gee, you're home early!"

"Actually, I am exactly on time," he said, holding up his watch and giving it a couple of slow taps for emphasis.

"Oh! Well I guess I just...lost track of time today, but the meatloaf is in the oven and--"

"What were you doing, that made it so easy for you to 'lose track of time'?"

"Oh well you know how it is, there's just so much to do to keep the house up all day, and--"

"What were you doing?"

She was still desperate for a lie that could possibly save her from punishment, but he always seemed to catch her in even her most careful lies, which just made the punishment even worse. Knowing now that it was inevitable but still not looking forward to it, she reluctantly told him the truth.

"I...I was..." she stammered softly, staring at the floor, "I was...fingering myself, sir."

He strode across the room and grabbed both of her wrists, holding them tightly together in his hand. "Fingering yourself? That's what you thought was more important than having my dinner ready?"

"No! No sir, of course I didn't think it was more important, I just..."

"You just what? You just are such a WHORE that you couldn't stop yourself, even if it meant being disobedient?"

"I...I guess so, sir," she said, still speaking very softly. "I'm so sorry!"

"You being sorry doesn't get my dinner on the table any faster, does it?" he said. Then, still holding her wrists, he pulled her after him into the dining room.

He pulled one of the chairs a bit away from the table and sat down in it. He did not speak, but she knew what she was supposed to do. So, with shaking hands, she untied and removed her apron, and pulled down and stepped out of her white panties. Her red polka dot dress and red heels she left on.

He still did not speak, but beckoned her with his finger, just once. She walked to him and laid down over his lap, already starting to cry a little. The pain would be bad, but knowing she had displeased him was already punishment enough.

He pulled up her dress until it was bunched around her waist, and then rubbed her ass for just a moment, before raising his hand in the air and slamming it back onto her ass with a good, solid SMACK.

She cried out. No matter how many times he spanked her, she could never get used to the shock of his first stroke, the sudden pain where there had been none.

But of course, he didn't give her much time to reflect on it, just long enough to bring his hand into the air and then bring it down again. And then again, and again, and again.

"Stupid little BITCH," he said harshly, letting a particularly hard stroke land right in the middle of her ass on the last word. "Have you forgotten your place? Have you forgotten a woman's obligation to her husband?"

Her tears were flowing freely now, both from the pain and his suggestion that she did not know exactly what she was and what was expected of her.

"OF COURSE NOT, SIR!" she cried. "I never forget that my duty is to serve you, never!"

"Oh, of course you don't. Not unless you're horny."

She didn't know how to answer this since that was what it looked like. And the continued assault on her tender ass was not making coming up with replies to his accusations any easier.

"I thought I would still be able to get your dinner ready on time," she told him. "I know how important it is! I just was so turned on today, I thought I could take a little break."

"Cooking and keeping house for me is what you're for. I always come first for you. If you'd thought there was even a chance you wouldn't have it ready on time, then you shouldn't have fingered yourself."

"I know, sir. You're right. I'm sorry."

Just then, the insistent ringing of kitchen timer alerted her that the meatloaf was ready. To her relief, he stopped spanking her. "Finally. Show me you can still be useful and go get my damn dinner." She got to her feet gratefully and went to the kitchen, preparing their plates. The spanking had been bad, but maybe now he'd have forgiven her and the rest of the night would be all right.

She brought their plates to the table and set them down next to each other, where they always sat. But he shook his head at her.

"I didn't say you were finished being punished. I thought about not letting you have dinner at all, but I decided to be kind and let you this time. Still, I don't think you deserve to eat at the table with me, so you're going to have your dinner on the floor. Don't bother getting silverware for yourself when you bring mine out."

What could she do but obey him? When she returned holding his fork and knife, she saw that he had already placed her plate on the floor. Well, at least he's letting me be right next to him, she thought.

She got on her hands and knees and, with some difficulty and not a little mess, ate her meatloaf and mashed potatoes without using any utensils or her hands. He did not speak to her, which she knew was a calculated move on his part to make her have to fully focus her attention on the humiliation of eating her dinner like an animal, and it absolutely worked. She was so ashamed she couldn't even bring herself to look up at him, but a few times she heard him stop eating for a moment, making her wonder if he was pausing to survey the sight of his disobedient wife on the floor beside him, hoping he was enjoying it if he was. Much as she hated being punished by him, she knew they were both addicted to this particular balance of power. She hated knowing she'd messed up, but she loved how it reminded her how completely she was his, and she knew he loved it too.

When they'd both finished eating, she carried their dishes to the kitchen and quickly washed them, knowing he would be ready to get to his nightly inspection of the house in just a moment. Well, at least that part she would manage all right. She walked back to the kitchen, and they were ready to begin.

He had very exacting standards for the shape he expected her to keep his house in, and so every night after dinner he thoroughly inspected each room to make sure she had done a good enough job meeting them. Even when she wasn't in trouble, he made her crawl following a bit behind him for this part of the night--"To make sure you are mindful of the fact that I am the master of this house," he had explained to her. She was confident that she had done everything correctly today and that maybe he would even be proud of her after her mistake with dinner.

He walked slowly around the kitchen and then the living room--making sure there were no dishes in the sink, running his finger along shelves to check for dust. She crawled after him, so relieved that he was pleased so far.

Then, he started down the hallway, and she was suddenly overcome with panic. The bathroom! She had completely forgotten about it today, which was not like her at all, but the horniness had been so overwhelming that she had just not been able to think straight. She stayed on the floor in the hallway, so scared she didn't even want to follow him.

"ALEX! GET IN HERE!"

She crawled towards him very reluctantly, finally arriving at his feet a few minutes later, kneeling there nervously.

"It's filthy! Is this also because you were fingering yourself?"

"Yes, sir," she said in a voice so quiet she half-expected him to not hear her.

"Exactly how long were you ignoring your duties as my wife and instead just giving in to your own slutty desires?"

"I...I think an hour and a half or so, sir," she said, still sounding even meeker than she usually did.

He gave her a swift and very sharp kick to the stomach, making her curl up in pain on the dirty floor. "GOD, I can't believe what a dirty, selfish SLUT you are. Well, here is what we are going to do. You are going to lick up all the dirt in here, until I've decided it's clean enough, and then you are getting another spanking."

She didn't even try to speak up in her defense this time. She knew he was right, that she'd done something very bad and no excuses would change that. She just crawled to the corner and started licking the tile floor.

The taste immediately start gagging, and fat tears were quickly splashing out of her eyes and onto the floor from the utter shame of it. But she knew better than to stop even for a moment.

She heard him laughing at her, and then his shoes smacking against the tile as he walked to where she was. He raised his right foot and placed it firmly on top of her head, holding it in place as she licked up the dirt, which just made her feel even more ashamed.

"That's right, my naughty bitch," he said, his voice cold. "Get it all nice and clean for me. It didn't have to be like this, you know. You could have been a good wife today and just used cleaning supplies like you always do. But you decided to be bad and neglectful, and bad, neglectful bitches don't deserve to clean up the normal way."

He made her lick the entire floor, the bathtub, the base and basin of the sink, and even, to her horror, the toilet before finally, after what felt like an eternity, it was cleaned to his satisfaction. Then he walked to the living room and she crawled slowly after him. Happy as she was to not be eating any more dirt, she was not looking forward to her second spanking of the evening, particularly since her ass still stung from the first.

He was sitting in his huge brown easy chair, the one she was never allowed to use. She laid down over his knee again, hoping somehow he would be merciful but knowing he wouldn't.

There was that harsh first stroke again, and again her yelp of pain, even louder this time from how sore her ass already was. The next few were even harder and she had to focus all of her energy on holding down her hands rather than raising them protectively to cover herself, knowing that would only make him angrier.

"Such a--stupid--stupid--little--bitch," he said, punctuating each word with smack on the exact same spot on her ass, making the pain overwhelming. "I work hard all day to take care of you. All I expect from you is that when I get home my dinner is ready and my house is clean. Is that really too much to ask from you?"

"No--no sir, of course it isn't. I am your wife and I know that's how things are supposed to be. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry!" She kept hoping her apologies would make him forgive her, but it seemed nothing but being fully punished would.

"How could you possibly think fingering yourself was more important than the things you need to do for me? Do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you?" More hard slaps to her reddened ass, but his words hurt more.

"I know, sir! I'm sorry, sir! It won't happen again, I promise!"

"You're right, it won't. I've been thinking, and I decided that from now on you will never finger yourself unless you are given explicit permission from me."

She couldn't believe it. "But sir! No, please! I get so so horny sometimes when you're at work, you know that!"

"Yes, I do know. I am fully aware of what a whore you are. But I am also aware that it doesn't matter. Being a good wife for me is your first priority. It comes before everything. So if you get horny while I'm at work, you will just have to deal with it. Make a good dinner for me, do all your chores well, and I might give you permission to after I get home. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she said. There was no point in arguing more--he had the final say in everything and she knew it.

He stopped spanking her then, and spent a few minutes rubbing her ass. It was so sore by now that even that level of contact hurt like hell, but it felt good too, and she felt herself squirming a little there in his lap.

He laughed. "God, such a slut! Almost ready to get off again even when she's hurting! It almost makes me want to fuck you, but I think you've had quite enough pleasure for today. But if you go fetch my paper now I'll let you worship my feet while I read it."

She got up, pulled down her dress, and went to the front door to get the paper beside it. She brought it to him on her hands and knees, carrying it in her mouth--he hadn't told her to do that, but she hoped it would show him how subservient she was, that she did remember her place even though she'd misbehaved that day. It seemed to work, because after she dropped the paper in his lap she looked up to see him smiling at her for the first time since he'd gotten home.

He'd already taken off his shoes and socks, so she quickly brought her head down to his feet and began licking them. She loved worshiping his feet, loved how much like his it made her feel, and was so grateful that he was giving her permission to do it after such a hard evening.

After a little while, she brought her head up and rested her chin in his lap. He stopped reading and looked down at her. "Yes?"

"What's in the paper today anyway? What's happening in the world?"

He laughed, then stroked her hair. "Oh, things wives don't have to worry their pretty little heads about," he said. "I am your world, that's all you need to know."

"But there are so many things out there and sometimes I really do wonder--"

"Doesn't your tongue have something better to be doing right now than questioning my authority?" he asked, in a voice that suggested she wasn't in trouble again yet but would be very shortly if she weren't careful.

"Of course sir, sorry sir," she quickly said, and returned to licking the spaces between each of his toes. She knew he was right, she knew it was silly to think she would even be able to understand the news even if he did try to explain it to her. In that moment she was perfectly aware of the fact that all that mattered was pleasing him, and in that moment she was perfectly happy.