"Sit down, Vicky, you are making the place look untidy," smiled fifty-eight-year-old Megan Humphries to her friend Vicky Mitchell, who was a year older. Megan was visiting her friend's house for a coffee.

"I would rather not, Tim gave me a bare-arsed caning last night, and it is still very tender," replied Vicky.

"Shit! You are joking, aren't you?" said Megan, who knew that in the past, Vicky had been subjected to domestic discipline.

"No, I deserved it; I way overspent on our credit card," replied Vicky.

"Even so, I don't think that he should do that," said Megan.

"He had warned me, and after the first few strokes, I started to rather enjoy it," said Vicky, smiling weakly.

"How many strokes did he give you?" asked Megan.

"Eighteen, I think; the fucking that he gave me afterwards was sensational," answered Vicky.

"It had been a long time since he had caned you, hadn't it?" asked Megan, who assumed that her friend told her most things.

"Five or six years, he only does it if I really deserve it," replied Vicky.

"I still don't understand why you let him; I wouldn't," said Megan, who had a very conventional sex life with her husband, Pete.

"He fucked me again this morning; I thought morning fucks were a thing of the past," confided Vicky.

"We never do it in the mornings," replied Megan ruefully.

"Do you want to see the cane marks?" Vicky asked her friend.

"Um, yeah, if you want to show me," replied Megan, feeling strangely aroused.

----------------

One month previously, the Mitchells received their credit card statement.

"What the fuck is this, and this?" Tim Mitchell asked his wife, pointing out things in the statement.

"Oh, just things," replied Vicky.

"Very expensive things," said Tim.

"Yeah, sorry," responded Vicky.

"Sorry is not enough, we are not made of money," said Tim, still studying the statement.

"I know, I will be more careful with my spending," answered Vicky.

"You need to be, or the cane will be coming out," warned Tim.

"Do we still have the cane?" replied Vicky, who had felt it across her backside a few times during their thirty-five years of marriage.

"We do, and if there is anything on the next statement like this, you will be feeling it," warned Tim.

"Yeah, okay," smirked Vicky.

"I fucking mean it, this is a warning," said Tim.

"I will be careful with what I spend, okay?" said Vicky.

"You had better be, or your fat arse will have cane marks on it," said Tim, and he meant it.

Vicky discovered before she married Tim that she would be subject to domestic discipline. Tim's father quite frequently disciplined his mother, something that she accepted and in a maybe perverse way. enjoyed, and Tim intended that his marriage would be the same.

Tim's father presented his son with a cane soon after he married Vicky, and it had been used a few times during their marriage, but only for punishment. Vicky sometimes had her bottom spanked as a prelude to sex, but if the cane was used, it would be because she deserved it. Vicky accepted the situation, even though the cane hurt like hell.

For the next week, Vicky kept her urges to spend in check, because she was fully aware of the consequences of overspending.

In the following week, Vicky was very tempted to buy an expensive dress, but thoughts of getting her arse caned made her decide not to. She had loads of clothes, so the dress was unnecessary.

Later that week, Vicky saw a vase that she liked, and it was a bargain being £60 reduced from £90. She thought long and hard, surely Tim would not cane her for buying it, would he? She decided to take the risk.

On impulse, Vicky went and purchased the dress that she had come close to buying the previous week. She knew that her actions might get her a caning, but she was hopeful of talking Tim out of administering the thrashing that her behaviour merited.

Vicky was undecided whether to tell her husband about her purchases or wait until he saw the credit card statement. She decided to wait for now, but also decided to try to get into his good books.

They were seated next to each other on the sofa when Vicky undid the zip on Tim's trousers and got his cock out, she then locked her lips on it. She was very good at giving blowjobs.

"What is this for?" asked Tim, squirming on the sofa.

"Don't you like it?" asked Vicky, removing her mouth from her husband's erection.

"Yes, I like it, but it is a surprise," said Tim, as Vicky's mouth got back to work.

Vicky licked and sucked, and eventually, she took a mouth full of Tim's spunk.

"Fuck, that was good," said Tim.

"Glad you liked it," replied Vicky.

"I still don't know why you did it, are you feeling guilty about something?" responded Tim.

"You will be mad at me, but I saw this lovely dress," confessed Vicky.

"Spending again? I warned you what would happen. didn't I?" said Tim, his mood changing.

"You did, but I couldn't resist it," replied Vicky, neglecting to mention the vase.

"Well, you know what you will get, don't you?" said Tim, now getting angry with his wife.

"Please, love; I thought that giving you that blowjob would be sufficient," pleaded Vicky.

"It will be the cane for you, but I will wait until we get the credit card statement so I know what I am caning you for," said Tim, increasingly angry.

"Yes, dear," said Vicky, hoping against hope that her husband would have changed his mind by the time that the statement arrived.

Despite temptations, Vicky managed to refrain from spending on anything else extravagant over the next few days. The relationship between her and Tim was cool at best.

The day that Vicky was dreading arrived, the credit card statement arrived in the post. She thought of hiding or destroying it, but knew that was not a good idea. She would be subject to her husband's mercy.

She found herself clenching her buttocks in anticipation of the caning that now seemed inevitable. She thought back to the last caning that she had received but memories of how the cane stung her bare buttocks did not make her feel any better.

"Any post?" asked Tim, after he had returned home from work.

"Yeah," said Vicky, handing him three envelopes, including the credit card statement.

"I will not open this one until later," said Tim, indicating the statement envelope.

They ate, with Vicky feeling more and more nervous. They then watched television for a while.

"I will open this now," announced Tim, picking up the envelope.

Tim opened the envelope, and Vicky nervously watched as he scanned it.

"Seventy-three pounds! What the fuck!" exclaimed Tim.

"That was the dress I told you about, I am sure that you will like me in it," responded Vicky.

"We can't afford it," replied Tim, still scanning the statement.

"What is this? Sixty pounds," said Tim, pointing out another item.

"Oh, that was a vase; it was a bargain, reduced from ninety," said Vicky.

"A vase, what do we need a vase for?" demanded Tim.

"It is nice," said Vicky, weakly.

"I told you what would happen if you overspent, but still you do it," said Tim.

"Yes, darling, I am sorry," stammered Vicky.

"You will be very, very sorry when the cane is lashing your buttocks," pointed out Tim.

"There must be some other way to resolve this," said Vicky, trying to unzip Tim's trousers.

"I warned you, but still you go ahead and spend; a sore arse might make you think next time," said Tim, pushing Vicky's hand away from his trouser zip.

"Please, Tim, I am so sorry," said Vicky, close to tears, although she knew that a caning was inevitable.

"I am going to fetch the cane; I want you to be bent over the back of the sofa naked from the waist down when I return," said Tim, leaving the room.

"Please, no," sobbed Vicky, but she knew that she was going to be caned, and caned severely.

Vicky reluctantly removed her skirt and her knickers, and bent over the back of the sofa, very aware of her exposed arse.

Tim retrieved the cane from the back of the wardrobe where it had been since it was last put to use more than five years previously. She had been warned and she deserved exactly what she was about to get.

Vicky's body tensed as Tim re-entered the room. She did not look up but was aware of him moving behind her.

"I am sorry," said the bent-over Vicky, sobbing.

"You were warned, you deserve this," said Tim, thinking what a great arse his wife had.

"I know; H-h-how many are you going to give me?" stammered Vicky.

"Enough to make you think twice about overspending again," replied Tim, the cane between his hands.

Vicky sobbed and her body tensed when she felt the cane tapping against her buttocks. Her well-deserved thrashing was about to start.

The tapping of the cane against her rear stopped, the cane was raised and then it slashed down through the air making a loud CRACK on impact with Vicky's arse. A split second after impact, Vicky reacted, she jumped up and put her hands on her buttocks.

"Shit! Fuck! Shitting hell, that hurt," exclaimed Vicky as she rubbed her arse cheeks.

"It will hurt a lot more before we are done, take your hands away and bend over," said Tim, sternly.

Vicky sobbed and got back into position. She knew that she deserved it.

Tim lashed a second stroke across his wife's backside, and she again yelled and jumped up, but refrained from putting her hands on her arse cheeks. Vicky slowly bent over again, and a third red line was put across her arse, again producing a scream from Vicky.

The caning continued, with Tim allowing several seconds between strokes. He had now delivered eight and Vicky's arse was stinging like hell. She reacted to each stroke but now she was almost welcoming them, as she got more and more turned on. Tim's penis was rock hard in his trousers.

Still, the CRACK of the cane making contact with female buttocks sounded in the room, as did Vicky's yells of pain, she was crying now but held her position, possibly even forcing her arse back towards the punishing rod.

Vicky had lost count of the number of strokes, but Tim was mentally counting. He had given her twelve but decided that she deserved six more. His wife's buttocks were a mass of red lines and he knew that she would not be sitting down for a while, she deserved a sore arse and she was certainly getting one.

Tim delivered six more strokes, and decided that the thrashing was over.

"I hope that has taught you a lesson, get up," said Tim, breathlessly.

Vicky remained bent over, she had never taken a thrashing like that before, but she was wet between her legs. She needed a fucking.

"I said it is over, get up," repeated Tim, his eyes on his wife's cane-marked arse, and her inviting cunt.

Vicky slowly pushed herself up and put her hands on her bottom.

"I deserved that," said Vicky, between sobs, her face tear-streaked.

"I warned you, didn't I?" said Tim.

"Yes, darling. you did," agreed Vicky, feeling the bulge in her husband's trousers.

"We are not made of money, you know," said Tim, trying to deny his sexual arousal.

"Fuck me, Tim, I am so turned on, give me a fucking," said Vicky, undoing Tim's trousers.

"You had better bend over again, then," said Tim, kissing his wife.

"Yes, bend over for a fucking," responded Vicky, pulling Tim's trousers and underpants down and freeing his erect penis.

Vicky got back into the position that she had been in before, but this time with her legs wide open. Tim held his prick against her cunt, and slid in. He started thrusting hard and fast, and had Vicky cumming almost instantly.

"Yes, yes, oh fuck," shouted Vicky, as she orgasmed.

Tim gave her a long and hard fucking, making her cum three more times, before his spunk rose up his penis and shot into his wife's cunt.

"Thank you, for the caning and the fucking," said Vicky, when they had settled.

They went to bed, Vicky's climbing of the stairs was particularly painful, and she slept on her front.

In the morning, Tim gave her another good fucking.

-------------

Vicky turned her back on Megan and lowered her skirt and her knickers, revealing her cane-ravaged arse.

"Fuck!" said Megan, when she saw the state of her friend's backside.

"He did a job on me, didn't he?" said Vicky.

"He certainly did," replied Megan.

"It turned me on though, the fucking afterwards was amazing," said Vicky.

Megan's eyes were on her friend's arse, she felt strange.

"Can I touch?" Megan heard herself ask.

"Yeah, but be gentle," replied Vicky.

Megan gently ran a finger along some of the cane marks.

"No wonder you don't want to sit down," said Megan.

"I love your touch; Will you show me your arse?" said Vicky.

"Why do you want to see my arse?" responded Megan.

"Show me, please," replied Vicky.

"This is weird," said Megan, turning her back on Vicky and lowering her trousers and knickers.

"You have a nice arse, Megs, can I touch it?" asked Vicky.

"Yeah, why not?" laughed Megan.

Vicky, who like Megan had no lesbian tendencies, ran her hand over her friend's buttocks, and Megan loved her touch.

"Do you like that?" asked Vicky.

"Yeah, I shouldn't, but I do," replied Megan.

"I feel so horny; will you go to bed with me?" asked Vicky.

"Fucking hell, Vicky," replied Megan.

"Is that a yes?" pressed Vicky, still caressing Megan's arse.

"I am horny too, so yes," answered Megan.

The two women made their way upstairs, and both got naked. They kissed, and the kiss became a tongue-battling snog.

They writhed together on the bed, kissing and caressing. Fingers entered cunts, and they both fingered the other to climax.

They then used their tongues on the other woman's vagina in a sixty-nine, both cumming several times.

"Shit, that was fun," laughed Megan, when the two well-satisfied women lay side by side, Vicky on her front.

"Yeah, it might never have happened if I had not overspent on our credit card," replied Vicky.

"And got your arse caned," said Megan, moving to kiss Vicky's buttocks.

Soon the two female friends were having lesbian sex again.

The caning had hurt Vicky like hell, but the sex that she had had since, heterosexual and lesbian, had been amazing.

She did not anticipate getting another caning anytime soon, but sex with Megan might now be a regular thing.