The front door clicked shut as Mark stepped inside, exhausted from a long day at work. He loosened his tie, rolling his shoulders as he set down his briefcase. The familiar scent of home surrounded him, yet something felt different—thicker, heavier. He glanced towards the living room, where his wife, Vanessa, stood, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on him with a sharp intensity.

“Did you take out the trash this morning?” she asked, her voice silky but carrying an undeniable edge.

Mark’s stomach twisted. He had forgotten.

“No, I—”

“Save it,” she interrupted, stepping forward. “I reminded you last night. I told you I expected it done. And yet, when I went outside this morning, what did I find? The bin still full. Do you think that’s acceptable?”

Mark swallowed hard. “No, Ma’am.”

Vanessa’s lips curled into a smirk. “Good. At least you remember how to address me when you’re in trouble. Strip. Now.”

Heat coursed through Mark’s body, part fear, part arousal. He obeyed, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders before peeling away the rest of his clothes until he stood completely naked before her. The cool air against his skin made him shiver, but it was nothing compared to the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of the cane in Vanessa’s hand.

She tapped it against her palm. “You will receive 200 strokes. You will count each one. If you lose track, we start over.”

Mark’s breath hitched. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She guided him over the back of the leather sofa, ensuring he was in the perfect position—his ass raised, legs spread, completely exposed. The first stroke landed with a sharp crack, sending a jolt of fire through his flesh.

“One,” he gasped.

The second stroke followed immediately, then the third. Vanessa was methodical, her movements precise, delivering each stroke with practiced control. Mark’s skin bloomed red, welts rising as the cane kissed his tender flesh over and over. By the time he reached fifty, his breathing was ragged, his legs trembling.

“Stay still,” Vanessa warned, pressing a hand between his shoulder blades to hold him in place. “We’re not even close to done.”

The strokes continued relentlessly, sharp and unforgiving, pushing him to the edge of his endurance. At one hundred, his voice wavered as he counted. At one fifty, tears pricked his eyes, yet his cock remained hard, twitching with each strike.

“Two hundred,” he finally choked out, his entire body slick with sweat, muscles quivering.

Vanessa set the cane aside, her demeanor shifting. She ran her fingers gently over the marks she had left, soothing his burning flesh with a soft touch. She knelt beside him, pressing warm kisses along his back, whispering sweet praises into his ear.

“You took that so well, my love,” she murmured. “Such a good boy for me.”

Mark exhaled a shaky breath, melting into her touch, savoring the aftercare she provided—cool lotion against his hot skin, her lips brushing over his neck, the warmth of her body pressed against his. But just as he started to sink into comfort, Vanessa pulled away.

“Now,” she said, standing and retrieving something from the table. “Time for your next lesson.”

Mark’s eyes widened as she held up the thick, black strap-on. His cock throbbed at the sight.

“On your hands and knees,” she commanded. “You’re going to take this for the next thirty minutes.”

He obeyed without hesitation, positioning himself as she slipped on the harness. A moment later, she was behind him, hands gripping his hips. The tip of the strap-on pressed against his tight entrance, slick with lube.

“Relax,” she cooed before pushing forward.

Mark moaned as she filled him inch by inch, stretching him, claiming him. Vanessa set a punishing rhythm, thrusting deep and slow at first, then harder, faster. The sounds of their bodies colliding filled the room, mixed with Mark’s gasps and groans. She fucked him relentlessly, ensuring he felt every inch of her dominance.

“You love this, don’t you?” she teased, slapping his ass, making him jolt. “Being used like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” he cried out, lost in pleasure and submission.

For thirty minutes, she took him, making him hers over and over again. His body trembled, on the verge of release, yet she never allowed him that final moment. When she finally pulled out, he collapsed onto the floor, completely spent, yet still painfully hard.

Vanessa smirked, walking to the kitchen. When she returned, she held a glass in her hand.

“You’ve been so good for me tonight,” she purred. “You deserve a reward.”

She knelt before him, gripping his cock, stroking him fast and hard. Mark moaned, body tensing, and within moments, he came, his release spilling into the glass she held beneath him. He gasped, panting as the last waves of pleasure coursed through him.

Vanessa held up the glass, swirling the contents. “Now, be a good boy and drink.”

Mark’s face burned, but he obeyed, taking the glass in shaking hands and bringing it to his lips. He swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of his own submission.

Vanessa smiled, satisfied. She cupped his cheek, placing a tender kiss on his lips. “That’s my good boy.”

Mark sighed, basking in the warmth of her praise, knowing he had pleased her. And that was all that truly mattered.