Short form. F/M, consensual
Laura, and Hans had gotten married so that he could stay in the US, and keep his IT job. Laura needed another sugar daddy. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but had talked enough online to see how the arrangement was beneficial for the both of them. Hans had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Laura began to henpeck him constantly, which he naturally responded to with irritation. After he left the toilet seat up, for the third time – yes, she was counting – his new bride asserted her dominance. She came into the living room holding a leather belt, and made her intentions clear.
“Hans…I am fed up with your messiness, and your shit attitude. Unless you want to get divorced, we are going to deal with this the old fashioned way. You want to act like a messy little boy, then I will whip your butt, just the same.”
Hans was beside himself in disbelief. He could see she was holding something behind her back. He stood up, intending to leave the room. Out from behind her came a manilla envelope. She handed it to him.
“These are divorce papers. What will it be??”
Hans jaw dropped. He had little choice. Divorce meant deportation. He took a deep breath, and decided to submit. It was a very strange arrangement, but, “how bad could a spanking possibly be,” he thought himself.
“Well…I guess, I’ll take…that.” He pointed awkwardly at the belt in her hand.
“Good,” she said. Now pull down your pants, and bendover. And if you give me any trouble, you will get it so much worse,” she said in commanding tone.
He froze for a moment.
“I’m waiting…” she said coldly.
And with that Hans dropped his jeans to his ankles, and prepared himself for the very first whipping he would get from Laura.
She whipped him 10 times, and Hans did his best to take it like man, partly out of pride, but also out of sheer terror of what she might do to him if he didn’t.
When the last “Whappp!” echoed off the living room drywall, Hans jumped up and rubbed his bare backside furiously. It took everything he had to not cry out. Laura handed him the belt.
“I want you to hold on to this for me. We’ll be using it again. Now pull up your pants, and go put the belt away. And don’t let me catch you leaving the seat up again.”
“Yes, ma’am!” he said in a mock southern accent.
Laura chuckled. “Welcome to America, sweetheart.”
A Tender Moon 