Husband Shaming: An Anal Attitude Adjustment

Cherry's had it. Another night of empty sheets while Ruckus hides somewhere beating off to assholes getting wrecked by cock. She finds him, pants around his ankles, eyes locked on the screen. Something snaps. All that macho bullshit, all that sweet-wife nonsense—she's done with it. Time to rip the mask off. She drags him out of the chair. The cane comes first, sharp lines across his ass. Then the flogger, heavy and loud. He squirms, but she keeps him there, chest down, wrists strapped. Makes him kiss her cunt like he means it. Makes him bury his face between her cheeks until his tongue forgets how to lie. Cock locked up tight, useless. Every time he hesitates she adds another stripe. When his hole is slick and open she pushes the thick strap-on in slow, then slams the rest. Deep, mean strokes that turn his grunts into broken little sounds. She keeps going until he stops fighting and starts begging for more. Until he says it out loud—what he really wants. What he's always wanted. Only then does she ease off. Marriage saved, the way she sees it.