Without His Permission | free spanking story

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe my friends have talked me into participating in a wet t-shirt contest. What started out as a simple girl’s night out away from our spouses was turning into a daring escapade of exhibitionism. We were at a popular nightclub and the five of us were pleasantly tipsy, especially me. So, when it was announced that an impromptu wet t-shirt contest was forming, my friends all decided we should participate. All of us.

As we made our way backstage to change out of our shirts and bras and into thin white shirts, I wondered how on earth I had gotten conned into this little game. I wondered what Michael would do if he found out. It’s not like I was cheating on him, and while my breasts will be completely visible when the shirt got wet, I was still covered, somewhat. Of my five friends, I was the largest built. As we made our way on stage, I felt self-conscious. Michael loved my breasts, always commenting on how perfect they were, how firm and round and soft. My nipples were large and sensitive and responded easily to any type of stimulation. I knew when the cold water hit me, they would pucker into tight, hard buds.

A loud round of applause accompanied by cheers and calls of “Take them off!” greeted us as we lined up on the stage in a single row facing a room of avid faces. There were about fifteen volunteers for the contest, and I was extremely grateful for the light liquor-induced buzz that was giving me the courage to compete with them.

Three bouncers approached us, each carrying a large bucket of water. The water was ice cold, and as we were doused completely, we all shrieked with the shock. My shirt got soaked, clinging to my curves and now puckered, aching nipples. My pussy dampened with excitement as I felt the eyes of our audience on my near nakedness. I was third from the end, and as my turn neared to parade up and down in front of the line and the customers, I grew giddy with lust and excitement. I didn’t care about winning; I just wanted to show myself to these strangers.

I briefly thought of Michael and his reaction, but as the current contestant lifted her shirt, baring her naked breasts to the loud roaring of the audience, I knew I didn’t care what my consequences would be. I only knew I wanted to display myself and my lust to this room full of people.

My turn came and I slowly walked up and down the front of the stage, my hands going to my breasts, lifting them for their perusal. Before my nerve deserted me, I lifted the wet shirt over my breasts, baring myself completely. I gloried in their applause and catcalls. My hands again lifted my fullness, my fingers plucking at my stiff, hard nipples. The crowd roared with approval, and as I resumed my place in line and lowered my shirt, I was excited beyond bearing.

After all the contestants did their solo walk, the manager came up and stood before each one of us, measuring the applause to gauge the winner. When he came to me, the crowd went wild, and I got a standing ovation. A few minutes later, I was pronounced the winner. I couldn’t believe I did it! I was exalted, and I accepted my free club shirt and drink with pride.

An hour later, my friends dropped me off at home. I was still tipsy but at least I had the sense to put my own shirt back on. I tried to be quiet when I went in, but Michael was awake and waiting for me. Before I could greet him, the door opened behind me and a wet t-shirt came flying through and landed right between me and my angry husband.

“You forgot your shirt, Laci.” The door slammed shut again and ominous silence filled the room.

Ignoring the wet evidence of my betrayal, I walked up to him and kissed him softly. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

“Apparently I did,” Michael answered coldly. Picking up the damaging evidence, he held it in front of me. “Care to explain?”

“It was just a silly, impromptu contest. I won,” I added, hoping that would appease him. It didn’t.

Looking pointedly at my chest, he replied dryly, “I’ve never doubted you could win a wet t-shirt contest. Did you bare your tits completely in front of everyone.”

I couldn’t, wouldn’t lie to him. “Yes, Michael. I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink, and they dared me. When I was up there and everyone was cheering for me, I just got caught up in the excitement.”

“What you did is not the problem, Laci, and you know it. The problem is you did it without my permission and without my presence. Take off your clothes and bend over the couch. I’ll be right back.”

I never thought of protesting. I quickly stripped and leaned over the padded arm of the sofa. This was where he had first spanked me, and I enjoyed being in this position and at his mercy. When Michael returned, he was carrying a round leather paddle. My heart sped up with both trepidation and excitement. He had only used the belt and his hand on my ass thus far, and I wondered how the paddle would compare. I was afraid I was going to find out all too soon.

“You’re not allowed to come at all tonight. Understood?”

Disappointed, I complied. “Yes, Michael.”

“You’re going to get twenty smacks with this, and it’s going to hurt. I don’t want to hear a word out of you.”

When the first blow landed, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep quiet for all twenty. The paddle covered my whole cheek and left a heated fire in its wake. The second blow landed on my other cheek and the third in the middle of my crack. Gasping, I buried my face, as he slowly and methodically brought the paddle down repeatedly on my aching flesh.

Heat enveloped my whole backside, pain engulfed my senses, and lust coursed throughout my system. By the tenth stroke, I was mewling in frustration and pain. The room echoed with the hard smacking against my naked ass and my moans of discomfort.

By the fifteenth, tears were flowing and remorse filled me that I had so upset him. I took the last five stoically, even though the pain was awful and I felt like crying out with it. I deserved this, and more, for disobeying the rules I had so readily agreed to.

The offensive instrument of my torment landed on the floor followed by the unmistakable sound of Michael lowering his zipper and pants.

Seating himself in a chair, he spread his bare legs, his hand holding his large erection out to me. “Suck me,” he ordered, showing no remorse for blistering my ass so thoroughly.

I couldn’t wait to please him. Slipping off the couch, I crawled on all fours over to him. Tears streaming down my face, I eagerly took his hard cock between my willing lips and sucked him hard and deep. I concentrated solely on his pleasure, my tongue swirling lovingly around his cock, tasting his excitement. My head bobbed up and down as I brought him to a quick climax. His shaft quickened, hardening more as he spurted his warm come down my throat. His shout of pleasure eased my conscience as I continued to lick and suck him through his orgasm.

His come dribbled out of the side of my mouth as I looked up lovingly at him. My buttocks ached horribly and I was in dire need of an orgasm that I wasn’t going to get.

“I love you,” I said happily.

“I love you too.

I was showering the next morning when Michael surprised me by slipping in behind me, his hard naked body pressing against my wet back. His hands came around to cup my breasts, his fingers pulling tautly on my aching nipples. Sighing in pleasure, I leaned back against him, my hands covering his as they mauled my malleable flesh.

Kissing the side of my neck, he whispered, “I haven’t forgiven you quite yet for last night.”

One second I was being brought to the onset of a long awaited orgasm, and the next, I was being held tightly over my husband’s muscular arm. His hand descended fast and loud on my wet ass as the water sluiced down my back and over my upturned, reddening cheeks.

“It hurts more when you’re wet, doesn’t it?” Michael asked as he continued to smack my buttocks repeatedly.

Squirming in both pain and pleasure, I gasped, “Yes, it’s much worse. Please, Michael, let me come now.” I didn’t mind groveling; I was in such fiery need. Heat spread across my backside as he continued his tormenting abuse.

He stopped as abruptly as he had begun, leaving me frustrated with unfulfilled desire. Turning me, he brusquely ordered, “Put your foot on the seat and lean against the wall.”

I did, watching curiously as he sprayed shaving cream on my sparse pubic hair. Rubbing the cream all over my pubis, between my legs and up my crack, I once again became quickly aroused. “What are you doing?” I moaned, wishing he’d slip his fingers into my vagina and ease this tormenting ache.

“I’m going to shave you.”

“Why?”

“Because when I watch you strip tonight at the club I’m taking you to, I want you completely naked.”

I barely noticed the rasping of the razor as he removed every hair from my pussy. His words left me breathless with anticipation and trepidation. Revealing my breasts to a crowded room of strangers had been hard enough. I couldn’t imagine stripping down all together, yet, the very idea had me longing to at least try, especially if Michael were there.

Michael grabbed the showerhead and ran the warm water over my now bare pubis. I had never felt more exposed, more vulnerable as I did in that moment. I had no secrets left, nothing to hide behind. I was completely bared, open, and his. When his fingers separated my outer folds revealing the moist, pink inner flesh, I forgot about any insecurities I had about stripping. As his tongue penetrated my pussy, finding my clit, and his fingers thrust up into my gaping passage, I forgot everything except the mindless pleasure erupting throughout my bucking, wet body.