In the end, I told him I would forgive him. I'd caught him cheating on me. He swore it was a one-off and wouldn't happen again. We'd only been married a year and although I was furious with him I wasn't ready to divorce. I was three months pregnant which he didn't know yet. But he knew how angry I was. We were sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table and he listened with his head down like a naughty child while I told him all the ways he'd been unforgivably stupid. He was frightened when I said he should maybe go back to his mom for a bit to give me some space. I liked his fear. It grew my feeling of power. A defenceless man is a pathetic sight. The bravado is gone and what remains is the abject child. I knew my good feeling was sexual in part. We sat in silence for a few minutes. He didn't dare speak and there was no need for me to say more. Then I gave him the choice. He could get out or he could be whipped. Sorry wasn't enough. He knew from my scowl that I was dead serious which frightened him some more. He mumbled that he didn't want to go. I nodded and told him we'd go up to our bedroom. He undressed awkwardly, hopping from one foot to the other as he fumbled his pants and boxers off, embarrassed now to be naked in front of me. He even put his hands over his cock but I ordered him to take them away. His eyes widened when I produced the whippy switch I'd bought. I'd decided to make him lie face down on the bed and warned him that any attempt to escape the blows would mean more. He was obedient now and resigned. His dociity excited me. I'd been too soft with him for too long. I'd never had a naked man completely under my control before. Nor had ever I hit anyone. What realised was how and why people can inflict violence without qualms. I was no longer angry; I was a vengeful and righteous goddess. I didn't start in gently. I laid the switch across his backside hard and sharp. He yelped. I wanted him to scream, plead, abase himself. He did. I hit him methodically and without hurry, making him wait in fear for the coming sting. Big red and blue welts rose on his ass. He writhed. Whack and writhe. Whack and writhe. He lost all sense of dignity, weeping and beseeching the mercy I would not grant him. I spoke only to make him repeat his confessions of guilt. When I looked at my watch, we'd been going for 15 minutes. What lay in front of my was a degraded, sobbing, bruised wreck of what had been a man. I had done this to a man a head taller and 50 pounds heavier than me and done it through force of will. I felt his pain and it felt good. Very good.