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Her Marriage Lessons by Emily Tilton

Though the idea of a bare bottom spanking over her husband’s knee is horrifying for new bride Mandy Williams, the thought of being taken firmly in hand is also terribly, shamefully arousing. So arousing that she agreed to spend a week trying out life in Rocky Falls, a small town where men aren’t afraid to take off their belts when their wives need a stern reminder of their place.

But Mandy’s new life will involve more than just a sore backside when she’s been naughty. Over the coming days she’ll learn what it means to be well and truly mastered, and if the wet spot on the panties her husband just pulled down is any indication, she’ll fit in just fine in Rocky Falls.



Publisher’s Note: Her Marriage Lessons is a stand-alone book in the Shamefully Courted series. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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Author: Emily Tilton

eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95

Length: 68,000 words


I heard a whistling. I felt a puff of air.

Oh, no.

The sharp sound of the leather across my bottom, across the bare skin exposed by my husband pulling my panties painfully upward to keep me in place. Then, the pain. Just as with his hand, I had a moment’s surprise that the belt didn’t hurt more, and then Rick had whipped me again, the lash going across the first one. Between the building agony of the first fiery trail and the start of the pain from the second one, I knew it did—and it would.

“I’m sorry! Sir… please…” I begged, trying to writhe away and feeling the utter degradation of having my movement confined by Rick’s hold on my panties. My husband’s action cut through my words, a third lash falling across my upper thighs even as I tried to apologize for sassing him. That one hurt a lot more, the pain much more immediate, than the leather’s bite across my bottom. “Oh, God… sir, I’ll…”

He stopped. He stepped back, leaving me cringing, my arms across my chest and my head turned back over my shoulder to look at him. The sting of tears in my eyes made my theatrical pout of protest feel even more dramatic. I gazed into Rick’s resolute face and without even meaning to, I composed my face into a mask of pretended innocence, as if my mean husband had just whipped me for no reason.

“Go ahead,” he said.

For a moment, I hesitated. I hadn’t actually said I would take off my underwear, had I? Could I tell him that I had meant to say I would never strip completely naked for him?

My right hand, unconsciously, had dropped from my chest and gone behind me, even as I had the wild thought. I chewed on my upper lip as my fingertips felt the soreness Rick’s belt had left. I watched his eyes travel down as he observed the little motion, and then rise again, to meet my own gaze, fixed on that handsome face, trying to gauge whether I had any leeway here.

Brat. Slut. Greedy little… The words seemed to play over and over in my mind, making my heart race. I saw Rick smile, very slightly, and the idea came to me suddenly that it gave him pleasure to watch me rub my bottom after a whipping. The terrible thought made me lower my eyes, steal a glance at the belt, still wound around Rick’s right hand.

I closed my eyes, and I felt myself reach both hands behind me to unhook my bra. The slut—she had done that. I kept looking at the belt. The belt didn’t give me any choice, whether I felt like the good girl or the brat or above all the observer, who seemed to take over once again.

That’s it, I said, watching myself remove my pink bra. Take it off, girl. You’re going to get the naked whipping you’ve been asking for, with your disrespect and your refusal to give your husband his rights.

My eyes rose from the terrible leather implement of my training, to look into Rick’s face, as I shrugged the bra off and dropped it onto the bed.

“Turn around,” he said, lowering his chin a little as if to tell me just how seriously he took this moment. “I want to see your breasts.”