My name is John, though I go by rgjohn, and I’ve written a few erotic books and some content for Literotica. When Emma read my work, she suggested I write about loving, female-led relationships—a genre she’s passionate about. It’s been a while since I’ve written, but a fan recently reignited my interest by asking me to turn his detailed journal into a story. Initially skeptical, I found myself captivated by his account of a Female-Led Relationship (FLR), a concept I hadn’t explored before. With a mix of curiosity and research, I’ve decided to craft a multi-part story spanning over 20 chapters. If you are just starting, you should begin your journey back at chapter 1.
Chapter 8: Jason Gets Spanked For The First Time, Corner Time
My hands trembled as I stood and stripped off my jogging suit, every movement feeling both deliberate and vulnerable. Anna moved gracefully to the chair and sat down where I had just been, her posture relaxed yet authoritative. Her bathrobe parted slightly as she settled, slipping open at her thighs to reveal smooth, creamy skin that disappeared tantalizingly toward her center. The sight alone sent a surge of arousal through me, and I began to harden almost instantly.
Anna’s gaze flicked downward, and a knowing smirk curved her lips. “I didn’t think getting spanked was supposed to be sexual, but I guess I was wrong. I wonder if that little guy will still be standing when we’re done.” Her voice dripped with playful authority as she punctuated her words by smacking the hairbrush firmly against her palm. The sound was sharp, commanding, and it echoed in my chest.
I had foolishly assumed this wouldn’t hurt much—after all, as far as I knew, Anna had never spanked anyone before. But standing there, exposed and vulnerable, my erection now fully rigid and bobbing in front of me, I realized the excitement I felt wasn’t about the spanking itself.
No—it was about her.
It was about the shift in her demeanor, the way her natural gentleness had given way to this confident, almost mischievous authority. It was the idea that my mild-mannered wife was about to cross a line we’d never approached before, and she was doing it with an intoxicating sense of purpose.
I hesitated, my breath hitching as I took a step closer. Whatever happened next, I knew it would change something between us—and I couldn’t wait.
“Over my knees, now. I’ll see to it that your disobedient little penis goes down quickly,” Anna said, her voice sharp with authority but softened by a playful edge that made my stomach flip.
I obediently bent over her lap, my body trembling with anticipation. As I settled into position, my erection slipped between her warm, soft thighs, and a low, involuntary moan escaped my lips. Anna firmly pushed my shoulders and head downward until they were nearly touching the floor, leaving my backside vulnerable and thrust high into the air.
“Now,” she began, her tone deliberate and measured, “I think you deserve twenty swats with this brush for abusing yourself while watching porn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, still not entirely convinced this was something I should take seriously.
The hairbrush rose, then fell with a sharp splat against my bare skin. The impact wasn’t overly hard, but it stung enough to make me let out a soft moan—more from the rush of sensation than actual pain.
“Count them,” she ordered, her voice carrying a new level of authority that made my chest tighten.
“One,” I said clearly.
A moment later, the hairbrush struck again, this time with a touch more force. The sting was sharper, more lingering, but still manageable.
“Two,” I counted.
Without hesitation, she struck again. And again. Each swat landed with a biting precision, and before I could keep up, the rhythm quickened.
“Three, four,” I sputtered, trying to keep my voice steady. Those last two had definitely stung more.
“Hmmm,” Anna mused thoughtfully. “Your ass isn’t getting very red. Clearly, I’m not hitting hard enough.”
“You’re doing it plenty hard,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Anna froze for a split second, then her voice dropped to a chillingly calm level. “Oh really? Did I say you could talk?”
“No, ma’am,” I answered quickly, my face burning with embarrassment as I realized my mistake.
Without warning, she delivered three swift, forceful strikes in rapid succession. Each impact was harder than the last, and the sting bloomed across my skin like fire. My hands pressed against the floor as I squirmed and groaned, trying to process the sharp, biting heat radiating from my backside.
“You didn’t count,” she said, her voice level but firm.
“Uh… sorry. Uh… four, five, six,” I fumbled, my voice shaking.
“Nope,” she corrected coolly. “That was five, six, and seven.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled again, my head hanging low.
“You will be,” she said, her voice carrying a faint tremor—almost as if she was getting excited herself. “That adds five more swats to your total. You’re up to twenty-five now. Care to complain about that?”
“Five more?” I blurted out before thinking.
Anna’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. “Add five more because of that. One more outburst, and I’ll add ten.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, and I bit my lip hard to keep from making another sound. I had crossed a line, and Anna wasn’t going to let me forget it.
The number had risen to thirty now, and I’d only managed to endure seven. This was getting serious. I couldn’t help but wonder if Anna was enjoying this a little too much.
Suddenly, I felt five more sharp swats in quick succession. I screamed out in pain as my already red, sore ass absorbed the fresh blows.
Anna paused, and I could hear her heavy breathing. Whether it was from exertion or excitement, both scared me.
I counted through twelve, but as soon as I finished, I got five more swats. Now I was struggling to keep up with the numbers. The pain had intensified significantly, and I was barely halfway through.
Anna paused again, adjusting me on her lap. I had hoped she was going to stop, but instead, she placed her hand over my waist and held me tighter. My penis had long since lost its stiffness. This wasn’t fun anymore. But I had told her I needed punishment, so I had no one to blame but myself.
Another five blows came quickly. I fumbled over the numbers, confused by the pain, but eventually managed to get out “twenty-two.” I didn’t think the exact count mattered anymore. Anna was going to keep going until she decided to stop.
She gave me a brief moment to catch my breath… or was it to catch her breath. I gasped, moaning with each inhalation. My ass was on fire now, and it had to be glowing red.
“Wow,” Anna said breathlessly. “Your ass is really glowing now. You’ve got at least ten more to go.”
As suspected, Anna wasn’t playing fair. At that point, I had no idea how many she was actually going to give me. I could barely think straight when she started again. Five more swats came, followed by a short pause, and then five more. She finished with a final five, each delivered with a force I didn’t know she had in her. I realized, suddenly, that tears were streaming down my face.
My nose was running, and I tried to control my sobs. I felt humiliated, chastised, and my ass throbbed as if it were twice its normal size.
A moment later, Anna tossed the brush onto my desk and unexpectedly pushed me off her lap. Then she slumped back into the chair, her legs spread wide.
“Eat me,” she demanded.
I turned over and groaned as my sore ass brushed against the carpet. The pain was almost unbearable, and I wanted to rub it, but Anna was insistent.
I crawled between her legs, and immediately realized how soaked she was—not just a little wet, but drenched. She had definitely enjoyed the spanking.
I didn’t make her wait. I dove in, licking her eagerly, hoping to get her off quickly so I could tend to my burning backside. But she wasn’t having it. She kept my head firmly in place, making me stay there until she reached at least five climaxes, her juices gushing out with each one.
Finally, she pushed my head away.
I looked up at her, and she was breathing heavily, her eyes closed. The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing and my quiet groans and sobs. I knew my ass was going to be sore for a couple of days.
After a long moment, Anna sat up and said, “Okay, where were we?” As casually as that. There was no, “how are you doing, or did I hurt you,” etc.
“Looking… looking … at… at discipline equipment,” I replied, my voice shaky and halting.
I started to stand and reach for my clothes, but she stopped me. She ordered me to turn around. Her hand slid across my swollen, red ass, her touch gentle yet deliberate. “It’s swollen,” she remarked matter-of-factly—not an apology, just an observation.
“I know,” I murmured, my voice low and unsteady.
Then Anna surprised me again. “Go stand in the corner,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “I’ll let you know when you can come out.”
I hesitated for a second before walking to the corner as instructed, feeling my humiliation deepen.
“Hands on your head,” she added, turning back to the computer and scrolling as if I wasn’t even there.
I did as I was told, pressing my hands to the top of my head. I stood there for what felt like an eternity—fifteen minutes at most, but it felt like an hour. I had always thought corner time was a trivial punishment, something schools used for unruly children. But standing there, naked, with my stinging, swollen ass as the only thing on my mind, I realized how effective it could be. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the combined ticking of the wall clock and Anna’s fingers on the keyboard, which seemed to slow time itself.
Every tick and click felt louder, more deliberate, as my mind fixated on the throbbing heat radiating from my backside.
Finally, Anna spoke. “You can come out now.”
I turned slowly, my hands instinctively flying to my sore ass the moment I moved. I gasped as my fingers met the swollen flesh—it didn’t even feel like my body anymore. The heat was incredible, radiating in waves. I swayed slightly, lightheaded from the combination of pain and shame, and had to brace myself against the wall to steady my balance. Anna didn’t notice; her attention was still on the computer. I came over and stood by her side. There was another chair, but I could bare the thought of sitting down right now.
Continue to Chapter 9
