The first time I spanked my husband, I expected him to put up more resistance. I can't remember now what his crime was. Perhaps it was a number of things that together finished up making me lose my temper. That's it, I told him at last. If you want to behave like a child, I'm treating you like one. Get upstairs! Why? he asked in surprise. To be spanked, I told him. He laughed disbelievingly and started to protest but I told him to do as I told him or go to his mother's till he was ready to do so. We both knew his mother would take my side anyway. Both of us talking loudly, I pushed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He kept repeating I don't want to do this, I don't want to do this and I kept telling him you bet you don't asshole but your gonna. In the bedroom, I ordered him to get his jeans and boxers off and he obeyed, dancing awkwardly from one foot to the other and almost crying with fear and humiliation. It's true that he looked pretty silly naked from the waist down with his little bare cock that he's always embarrassed about. Why are you making me do this he kept repeating more and more plaintively, but he didn't dare disobey me. The scowl on my face told him not to dare to try that. I sat on the bed and made him lie across my thighs and began thwacking his hairy bottom with the flat of my hand. The fuss was unbelievable, pleas to stop and complaints about the pain. For chrissakes, I yelled, I'm only using my hand. You're worse than a child. You're like a baby. I must have hit him 30 or 40 times in quick succession before I finished. When I let him get up, I could see he was trying very hard not to cry although I'd probably hurt my hand as much as his ass. You're totally pathetic, look at you, I sneered. Call yourself a man. He reached for his jeans but I stopped him and deliberately humiliated him all over again by making him stand there half-nude while I explained to him that I wanted big changes in his behaviour. You can start by saying your very, very sorry, I said. He said it so like a despondant little boy that I had to struggle to remain stern and not laugh. I left him and went downstairs where I found my 15-year-old daughter in the kitchen. She's my best friend and confidante in the family. What was all that about she asked. Just you dad having his bottom smacked for the way he goes on, I said. She giggled and said it was about time too. She knows what he gets up to and always supports me against him. I hugged her. Keep this to yourself honey I said and don't tell you're sisters. It'll be our secret and you'll help me sort out this useless dad of yours.