Angry and Humiliated Sharon Tamed by the Hairbrush

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: BDSM  |  House: Spanking, Corporal Punishment and Slut Stories

I then twisted her bare left arm up behind her back to which she had squealed with the pain. I then roughly manhandled her such that she ended up across my lap on the sofa and then proceeded to spank her on each buttock hard synchronizing each smack with a word...

About eight or nine years ago Sharon and I were on the beach. It was a fairly secluded spot - we were the only ones there – and the time was about half five on a sunny August day. I was ready to go home but Sharon had fancied a swim first – she’d wanted to make the most of what was left of the weekend.

"I'll nip off now and start preparing tea, by the time you get back it'll be on the table," I’d suggested.

"That’s fine," she had responded.

She’d then stood up and slipped off her shorts - she was already topless – and I’d studied her superb naked body as she’d waded out into the surf.

The beach had gently shelved so she would have had a few hundred yards or so before it became deep enough to swim.

I have to tell you that Sharon was sometimes exhilarated by the prospect of exposing herself in public, or rather the risk of being caught nude out in the open.

We had shagged the year previous under the Worsley Monument on an Autumn Sunday afternoon and it had been extremely exciting as we could have easily been caught totally naked by hikers – she had been absolutely soaking and I had been rock hard too. Happy memories.

Sorry, I've gone off on a tangent.

Anyway, as I gathered up our belongings and intending to leave behind for her just her towel, shorts and vest an evil thought entered my mind, an evil thought I just couldn't resist.

I picked up… everything so that there would be no clothes, or towels even, for her to cover herself up. It was mean. It was fucking mean.

Just before I’d turned to leave the beach I’d glimpsed her swimming strongly in the turquoise water - and oblivious to her fate.

I’d then started to laugh - it was hard to stop.

I then trudged up the sandy slipway and headed home.

We didn't actually live that far from the shore, about a third of a mile and only a ten or so minute walk; but that day I daresay it would have seemed just a little longer for Sharon than normal…


About forty minutes later I was home having put the joint in the oven and also tidied away the gear from the beach.

I’d been reclining on the sofa in the lounge skimming through Men are from Mars; Women from Venus when a shadow had hurried along the window. The front door had then been angrily drummed.

"Fucking let me in, you… bastard."

I had let her in, totally naked with her long chestnut hair still matted by the salt water - and she had appeared a tad upset.

She’d immediately slapped my cheek hard with her right hand before beating her fists against my chest repeatedly, all the time mouthing obscenities. "You fucking, fucking nasty bastard, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Calm down, dear, you're not at work now!"

This was a sarcastic reference to her having successfully recently completed an Anger Management module as part of her training.

I had then grabbed her wrists at this point but it didn't prevent her from attempting to kick then knee me in the nuts.

Then she tried to head butt me.

"You have totally fucking humiliated me!" she had sniffed.

At this point I’d visualized her running naked, in that ungainly fashion that women do, through the pleasant residential thoroughfares with one arm across her breasts, the other protecting her modesty, whilst all the time sobbing.

I’d also wondered, in addition, if her boss had seen her, since he lived on the route - what a satisfying prospect that would have been!

"Our relationship is… over. I want the bungalow on the market... tomorrow."

At the time I had thought that that would be sad since the relationship had suddenly started to get… interesting.

"Let go of… me," she had said a split second before spitting in my face.

Now that had been a red rag to a bull and I’d flipped - enough was a fucking enough!

I then twisted her bare left arm up behind her back to which she had squealed with the pain. I then roughly manhandled her such that she ended up across my lap on the sofa and then proceeded to spank her on each buttock hard synchronizing each smack with a word:

"Your," , "problem,"  , "is," , "that," , "OW, that *really* hurts!" "you," , "can't," , "OW! OW!" "take," , "a," , "fucking," "OOO!" "joke!"

I gave her an extra hard smack for the last word. 

"Let go of me or I'm going to call the fucking... police!"

I then parodied every word of what she had just said, accompanied each with a smack.

She had screamed really loud and struggled but I had managed to hold her down - and thanked God that the double glazing was soundproofed.

I had then espied the hairbrush just out of reach on the coffee table - she had left it there before we had gone out – and she was very shortly going to rue not tidying it up.

"What are you doing now?" she had exclaimed.

With great difficulty - Sharon had nearly broke free – I’d managed to stretch across and grab the brush.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget!"

I’d meant it too - nobody, and I mean nobody, spits in my face!

"You'll be taught a lesson in… court," she had retorted with spirit.

I hadn’t of cared I’d been so mad.

I then beat her hard with the wood of the brush, once again across each very red buttock.

"Please, please stop."

But I’d merely thrashed her harder and had added, "I've had enough of your selfish manipulation, your little mind games, your contrived moods to get your own way. Report me to the police and have me prosecuted - I really don't give… a fuck."

After about twenty swats I’d become aware of a change in her - she’d ceased hollering and the crying had reduced to a gentle sniffing. Her unclad body had become ‘pliant’ too.

I then felt compelled to loosen my hold of her.

She’d then twisted with some effort her flushed, perspiring and good looking face round and her large baby blue eyes had clamoured for release, surrender.

She then spoke softly and contritely. "I'm truly sorry. Take me and use me as a sexual object as I deserve nothing less."

At this point I became aware of the dampness on my thighs - and it wasn't seawater.

I then propped her up.

"Get in the bedroom. I'm going to fuck you - hard."

She’d rubbed her badly bruised buttocks and then meekly padded in the direction of the master bedroom, which was kind of aptly named!

A few moments later I’d followed her into the room to be met with the sight of her lying naked and spread-eagle on her back. Her thick and lustrous hair had spread out from around her head still appearing moist from the Solent.

She’d made no effort to resist, none at all, as I’d affixed first her arms to the head rest and then her legs to the footings of the King Size bed with cord.

She’d merely let out a sigh as I’d penetrated her damp cunt.

I’d then thrust hard with my erect penis, the base of my shaft pushing close against her swollen clit – I’d hadn’t of cared a bit whether she’d come. But within a minute I felt her strong internal muscles begin to spasm and seconds later she was crying out and gasping.

I had continued to thrust.

Again she had gasped.

I then shafted her with even greater frequency and force.

And for a third time, she had orgasmed.

Seconds later, I had blissfully felt my hot spunk shoot out and instantly satiated, I had rolled off her and to the side…


Later, I had realised that something had changed between us, but it was subtle and our relationship was not the same. I had speculated that it was because we could never top that one violent explosion of passion?

I don't know - we had split about eighteen months later.

Nevertheless, I remember that evening when we had settled in front of the television I had picked up Men are from Mars; Women from Venus and in front of Sharon had thrown it in the bin.

"Guess we don't need that anymore?" I had said.

"Guess not," she had replied casually…

Submitted: May 30, 2022

© Copyright 2023 Matt Triewly. All rights reserved.

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