Marital Aids


By Lynn Lake


Marianne poured me another cup of coffee, then replaced the decanter and sat back down at the kitchen table. “You didn’t come over here just to discuss gardening, did you, Kate?”

            I looked up and smiled at her. Marianne and I had been friends too long for me to put anything over on her. I gazed into her crystal-clear blue eyes and the bedroom problems between my husband and I gushed out of my mouth. After ten years of mostly happy marriage, sex had become more of a chore than a joy lately – something to do once a week, like changing the sheets on the bed. Our love life had become stale, boring. It wasn’t because Jim wasn’t a good lover, it was just that with the kids and the jobs and the new house, sex had become secondary, and sadly, it didn’t look like the situation would improve anytime soon.  

            Marianne twirled a strand of her long, black hair around a slim, silver-tipped finger. “Roger and I had a very similar problem,” she said, her glossy lips breaking into a sympathetic smile. “I think all couples do eventually. You get completely overwhelmed by the day-to-day activities of living and striving to get ahead, such that sex doesn’t seem so important anymore.”

            I nodded, then blatantly inquired, “And how did you guys handle it?”

            Marianne’s perfectly made-up, pearl-white face suddenly turned a salmon shade of pink, and her eyes fluttered back and forth between her coffee cup and me. “Well … you’ve got to do something to, um … shock the sexuality back into your marriage, so to speak. For Roger and me, it was, uh …”

            “Hey,” I interjected quickly, “if you don’t want to talk about it …”

            “Spanking,” she blurted out.

            She settled her hands in her lap and looked me directly in the eye. “Our sex life had dwindled to virtually nothing, and it was just routine whenever we did make love, so Roger and I tried some new things, experimented a bit … until we found that spanking turned both of us on. Really turned us on.”

            I gulped down my amazement. “You mean that Roger spanks you?”

            “Roger spanks me, I spank Roger. We spank each other. It’s completely revived our sex life.”

            “But isn’t it, um, painful?”

            “There’s a very thin line between pain and pleasure, Kate.”

            I almost spilled my coffee as I took a small sip, my hand was shaking so hard. Marianne was a shy, soft-spoken woman who liked everything to be in its proper place, someone who wouldn’t harm a fly – or so I’d thought. She and Roger were the perfect, All-American couple – good-looking, successful, sophisticated. He was a partner in an architectural firm and she was a private school teacher. I couldn’t believe they’d be involved in something as kinky as spanking.

            “And w-what do you, you know, use to spank each other?” I spluttered.

            Marianne shrugged her shoulders. “Well, it depends on what we feel like. Our hands, of course, brushes, paddles, rolled-up newspapers and magazines, dildos-”


            She nodded. “Why don’t I just show you our collection of disciplinary devices?”
            “Why don’t you?” I almost shouted, my face turning red and my body hot as I had a mental flash of beautiful Marianne savagely spanking hunky Roger’s bare ass with a dildo. Roger was a big, blonde, macho type of guy, and the thought of him getting disciplined with a plastic dick by his petite, polite wife left me light-headed and tingling all over, and wondering if Marianne wasn’t on to something here.

            “Follow me,” she said, pushing back and gracefully sliding out of her chair. She winked at me and then strolled out of the kitchen and down the hall, her hips swaying suggestively under her shark-colored dress.

            I slammed my coffee cup down in its saucer, cracking both, and hurried after her, the two of us colliding just inside her bedroom door. She laughed as she steadied me. Her smooth, slender hands felt cool on my hot, sun-burnished skin. She then she guided me over to an antique dresser that crouched against a wall in the tastefully-appointed room. She pulled the top drawer open, and we stood there, bare shoulder to bare shoulder, looking down at a neatly arrayed collection of butt-warming tools: switches, yardsticks, steel batons, paddles, hair brushes, a riding crop, and yes, dildos.

            “Wow!” I exhaled. “How long have you and Roger been doing this? Spanking each other, I mean?”

            “Oh, about a year now, I suppose.”

            I picked up a monstrous, blue-black double-dong and held it in my hand, marveling at its length and thickness, its heft. Then I whispered like I was holding a sacred object in a place of worship, “How does getting whipped with this thing feel?”          

            “There’s only one way to find out,” Marianne replied matter-of-factly.

            I jerked my head sideways and gaped at her. “Huh!? Oh, no … I couldn’t … I-”

            “Do you want to reclaim your sex life, or not?” she said bluntly, her soft, sweet voice grown decidedly harsher. Her eyes were hard and intimidating, her full lips parted slightly like she was having trouble breathing.

            I was having trouble breathing. I dropped the heavy-duty, two-pronged dildo and took a step backwards. “I guess maybe I better get-”      

            “You’re not going anywhere!” Marianne barked, scooping up the lewd sex toy and roughly grabbing my elbow.

            I glanced anxiously from her hand to her face, and her expression of unbending determination told me that I’d better play along. Plus, my own blossoming desire to find out just what that dildo did feel like kept me rooted to the ground. “Okay, okay. I-I’m willing to give it a try,” I stammered. No risk, no reward, right?

            “Good,” Marianne replied crisply. She let go of my arm and walked over to the large canopy bed that dominated the room and sat down stiffly on the side of it. She held the wicked-looking cock-substitute in her right hand and patted her tiny lap with her left. “Come over here and accept your punishment. Now!”
            Sweat grew on my forehead and the palms of my hands, and my legs turned into two overcooked noodles. My whole body was numb and my head was spinning, but somehow I managed to stagger over to Marianne. I stood in front of her like a nervous schoolgirl, my hands trembling, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

            “You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you!?” she rebuked me, slapping the giant dildo hard across the palm of her small, delicate hand.

            The warm, caring, retiring woman I had known only moments before was gone, replaced by a cold, aggressive, and aroused dominatrix. I suspected her pussy was probably as wet as mine. She grabbed my hand and pulled me down onto her lap, bent me over her knees like I was ten year-old girl who’d just been caught smoking.

            “This is for your own good,” she declared, and then smacked my bottom with the rubber hose.

            “God!” I shrieked, instantly amazed at the intensity of my reaction. It hadn’t really hurt, but everything, every feeling, every action, seemed incredibly magnified in the crackling, sexually-tense atmosphere of that bedroom. I was wearing only a flimsy summer dress and a pair of panties, and the thin fabric of those two garments provided sweet little cushioning for my bottom against Marianne’s wicked love-stick.

            She gripped my neck to hold me securely in place, and then whacked my ass again with the dildo, harder this time. I fought to catch my breath as the blood rushed to my head and thundered in my ears. She smacked my ass again and again with her heavy spanking toy, harder and harder, faster and faster, pounding my ass in an evermore vicious rhythm.

            “Fuck!” I groaned, and twisted my dizzy head around to steal a look at Marianne. Her sky-blue eyes were wide and glassy, her face crimson, her white teeth biting sharply into her pink tongue. I dropped my head back down and stared blindly at the carpet, the searing pain in my ass being fanned into flames by Marianne’s relentless spanking.

            She beat me unmercifully with the ebony pussy-plunger, and yet, even as she flailed away at my burning bottom, something clicked in my overwrought brain, and I mentally switched gears and the pain suddenly and unexpectedly began to dissipate. It became something I could control as I realized that Marianne would never really hurt me. I channeled the white-hot anguish from my throbbing bottom into my drenched pussy, so that each time she smacked me, a jolt of raw sexual energy blasted my pussy and permeated my body.

            “You’re not hurting me!” I screamed defiantly, slobber spilling out of my mouth and onto the carpet, my transformation from victim to spank-vixen complete.

            She angrily pushed up my dress and pulled down my panties, her long nails scratching the inflamed surface of my bottom as she frantically sought to expose me to even greater punishment, and pleasure. “This’ll teach you a lesson!” she hissed, her chest heaving, her hands damp and shaking as she roughly adjusted my clothing to give herself the maximum bare target area.

            “Yes!” I jeered when she lashed the flexible, two-headed dong across my naked ass with a resounding smack. My plump buttocks trembled, I trembled, as Marianne whaled my behind, raining down blows that blistered me from pink to scarlet.

            Then she forced my legs apart and scrubbed my dripping pussy with the two-girl fuck-rod. She alternated between laying a licking on my butt and urgently buffing my pussy. The feeling was incredible, and before I even knew what was happening, my pussy exploded and I was rocked by an orgasm. She savaged my bare bottom with stinging wallop after wallop, while rubbing my drenched pussy, and a tidal wave of heat churned through my quivering body and consumed me, leaving me devastated in its wake. I came with a pain-induced intensity that I’d never have believed possible, and then lay limp and shattered across Marianne’s knees when she halted her furious beating.

            “How did that feel?” she asked after awhile, lightly stroking my dewy neck and gently rubbing my swollen bottom. “I wasn’t too hard on you, was I?” She had reverted back to the Marianne of old, the Marianne I’d known exclusively before she picked up that black cock-replacement and pummeled my bottom like a woman possessed.

            I sucked some humid air into my tortured lungs and wearily shook my head. She helped me regain my footing, and we both stared in awe at the reflection of my brick-red butt in the mirror above the dresser. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” I joked sheepishly, tentatively petting my ravaged behind. There were already white ridges forming where she had applied the dildo extra-hard.

            I gingerly pulled up my panties and lowered my dress, then gave Marianne a big, heartfelt hug. “Thanks for all your help,” I said, tears in my eyes.

            “Sometimes a little hurt is the best help a friend can give,” she responded, her own eyes glittering.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

            I’d learned a lot that afternoon with my best friend – about her, about me, and about the razor-thin divide between wicked pain and wanton pleasure. So, when Jim finally got home from work later that night, I could hardly wait to show him the visible proof of my lesson in life. I bared my battered bottom for him as he changed out of his suit and into a t-shirt and jeans.

            “Holy shit!” he yelped, bending down to get a closer look at my tender, tortured petoot. “Marianne did that to you!? Shy, little Marianne!?”

            “She spanked me silly, yup,” I replied.

            He pressed a finger against my warm tushe, and shook his head in amazement when the white mark he left behind was quickly swallowed by red. “Christ almighty,” he muttered, then straightened up. “What in the hell brought all this on?”

            “Oh, one thing sort of led to another,” I remarked casually. “You know, sometimes girls like to play rough.”

            “Uh-huh. It looks like it must’ve hurt – a lot.”          

            I turned around to face him, a mischievous smile spreading across my puffy lips. “It did … at first, but once I got into it – really got into it – it didn’t hurt at all; it felt good. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

            He retreated a few steps when I drew one of Marianne’s yardsticks out from under our bed and advanced on him. “Hey, wait a minute, Kate! What do you think you’re going to do with that?” he babbled.

            “Naughty boy!” I said fiercely. “Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to talk back?” After Marianne had helped me ice down my flaming behind, she’d taught me how to use her various instruments of obedience – for maximum enjoyment.

            Jim laughed nervously. “C’mon, Kate, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you-”

            “You come on, Jim!” I responded angrily, then moderated my voice. “Do you want to spice up our sex life, or not?”

            He mulled that over for a moment, watching me warily as I slid the long, hard, wooden ruler back and forth in my hands. Then he abruptly unbuckled and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to his feet. “I’ve been a bad boy,” he said with equal parts contrition and inquiry.

            “That’s better. Your underpants, too.” I smacked the measuring stick across my hand.

            He stepped out of his jeans and tugged down his Jockeys, never taking his eyes off of me and my spanking device. His thick cock sprung out, already partially inflated. I ordered him to bend over and place his hands on the edge of the bed, and he quickly complied. His big, bare ass presented an excellent target for my erotic anger. He gripped the bed covers and spread his legs, then had the audacity to wiggle his bottom at me.

            I smacked his pale ass lightly with the yardstick, giving him a taste. “Don’t get cheeky with me, mister,” I intoned, getting in position on the left side of his exposed bottom.

            “Sorry,” he mumbled.

            “I’m sorry!”

            I swatted his round butt, harder this time, and an inch-wide line of red flashed across his taut buttocks and then winked out. I hit him again, and again and again, the three-foot ruler making a cracking sound as I whacked it against my husband’s ass. He moaned, and began tugging on his now fully-engorged cock as he clung to the bed with one hand. He thrust his bottom even higher into the air, begging me to hammer him all the more.

            I walloped his jiggling buns repeatedly as he fisted his cock and groaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The yardstick whistled through the air and crashed into his derriere over and over, his cute caboose flushing as red as my face. His cries got more and more urgent, telling me that he was close to cumming – too close, too soon, in my opinion. “You’re not going to get off that easy!” I yelled at him, and halted my sensual ass abuse. An idea had occurred to me – an extremely nasty, dirty idea.

            He twisted his head around and dropped his rock-hard erection, gingerly touching his overheated backside. “Please, Kate,” he whined. “I was almost there.”

            “Oh, you’ll get there,” I assured him. “But you’re going to have a little more help.” I tugged open the bottom drawer of my bed stand, rummaged around, and plucked out the eight inch, red dildo that I’d been relying on far too often lately.

            Jim stared disbelievingly at me as I slowly and sexily tongued and sucked the big, plastic faux-cock, getting it all nice and wet. Then he squealed with alarm when I suddenly shoved the bulbous head of the spit-slick pussy-pleaser hard against his clenched asshole. “It’s not going to fit, Kate!” he shrieked.

            I thumped his ass with the yardstick. “I warned you about talking back,” I sternly warned him again, then laid another hiding on his cooling posterior with the wooden sex toy. Once his ass was violently ablaze again, I retrieved the container of lube Marianne had generously given me, and rubbed some of it on my old faithful.

            “You’re such a baby,” I said contemptuously as he whimpered. Then I prodded the head of the slippery dildo into his asshole.

            He desperately tried to reach back and spread his twitching, tenderized cheeks as I relentlessly jammed the unbending cock into him. Inch by hardened inch I slowly sank the dildo into his virgin anus, until all but the base was securely lodged into him. I wiggled it around, and he grunted and buried his face in the bedspread.

            “Hold it in your ass!” I commanded, and let go of the pre-formed prick and took a step back. I whipped the yardstick around in the air a couple of times to limber up my arm again, refresh Jim’s memory, and then slashed it across his beet-red butt cheeks, and started flogging him all over again.

            “Fuck, yeah!” he screamed, grabbing his enraged dick and pumping it.

            I smacked the ass-mounted dildo and his ass cheeks at the same time, sending shivers throughout his charged body. He frantically jacked his dick, his hand a blur, his legs shaking as I spanked and spanked his violated ass. Then he bellowed my name and jerked thick ropes of semen out of his pulsating cock.

            I kept right on smacking his inflamed, dildo-stuffed ass with my borrowed ‘bad boy’ stick, as he sprayed a huge load of sperm onto our carpet and bed. Needless to say, he was punished for that as well.