Girls’ Night Out

The aroma of wine and baked brie filled Jill’s elegantly decorated living room. It was her turn to host the monthly Girls’ Night Out, and her girlfriends were already laughing and chattering over the delicate spread she’d prepared. This was Jill’s sanctuary, a sacred evening for her and her friends to relax without any interference from their husbands or partners.

Jill had made the rules clear to her husband, John, that morning.

“John, you know how this works. You’re not to come back until midnight, no exceptions,” she said firmly, crossing her arms as she stood in the doorway. “This night is for us—no men allowed.”

John nodded, grabbing his coat. “I know, Jill. Don’t worry. Have fun.”

Satisfied, Jill turned her attention to party preparations, confident her husband would obey.

The evening was in full swing, with Jill and her friends deep into their second bottle of wine, when the front door creaked open unexpectedly. All conversation stopped as every head turned toward the source of the intrusion.

There stood John, his face a mix of sheepishness and panic.

“John?” Jill’s voice was a whip crack, sharp and commanding. She stood slowly, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked toward him. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come home until midnight.”

“I—I forgot my wallet,” John stammered, holding up the small leather item as if it could excuse his transgression.

Jill’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a dangerous smile. “Forgot your wallet?” she repeated, her tone dripping with disbelief. “You’ve interrupted my night, embarrassed yourself, and now you’re trying to make excuses?”

John opened his mouth to respond, but Jill cut him off with a raised hand. She turned to her friends, who were watching with amused smiles.

“Ladies,” Jill said, her voice taking on a theatrical lilt, “it seems John here doesn’t understand boundaries. I think it’s only fair that he learns a lesson about what happens when you break the rules.”

The room erupted in giggles and murmurs of approval.

“Jill, come on,” John pleaded, his cheeks burning red. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“But you did,” Jill said, standing up. “Strip down to your boxers.”

Still reeling from the spanking, John hesitated. Jill’s icy glare silenced any protest.

“Now, John,” she ordered.

Blushing furiously, John began unbuttoning his shirt, his hands trembling. The women burst into laughter and cheers, egging him on as he reluctantly removed his clothes, stopping at his boxers

The women gasped and giggled as Jill sat down on the edge of the sofa, tugging John over her lap with surprising ease.

“Jill, no!” John protested, his face bright red, but her grip was firm.

“Yes, John,” Jill replied, her voice unyielding. “You need to understand that when I set a rule, I expect it to be followed. You’re not above the rules, and you will be reminded of that tonight.”

With that, Jill pulled John’s boxers down to his knees, raised her hand and brought it down sharply on his backside. The sound echoed through the room, followed by a chorus of laughter and cheers from her friends.

Jill delivered a series of stinging smacks, her movements deliberate and measured. John squirmed and whimpered, but he didn’t dare resist. By the time she was finished, his face was as red as his backside.

“Good,” Jill said with a satisfied nod. But, before she released him, Jill pulled John’s boxers off completely, leaving him naked in from of the room of women.

“Now, let’s put you to work. You’re going to serve us for the rest of the night. Refill drinks, bring snacks, and do exactly as you’re told. If you hesitate or complain, there will be consequences.”

For the next two hours, John became the star of the evening, fetching wine, refilling plates, and even wearing a frilly pink apron that Jill handed him with a smirk. The women delighted in his embarrassment, making playful comments and giving him ridiculous tasks, like fanning them with a magazine or attempting to dance to their music.

But it was the constant taunting that really dug in, making John squirm with each passing second. One young woman, tall and blonde, who was clearly enjoying the spectacle more than most, turned to him with a wicked smile as she leaned back in her chair. “Oh my goodness, John, are you trying to impress us with your… assets?” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “Because, honestly, the apron’s doing a terrible job of hiding them. I can barely see anything down there! You are tiny, aren’t you?”

Another girl chimed in, laughing cruelly, “Aren’t you embarrassed, John? It’s like you’ve been stripped of your dignity and left with a… well, a lot of nothing.”

John, already humiliated, tried to focus on the tasks at hand, but every movement seemed to be met with mocking giggles. “Oh, look at him, girls,” one of the women said as John bent over to refill a glass. “I think that spanking is going to leave a bruise.”

John’s cheeks were burning, the blush creeping down his neck as the laughter rang in his ears. He couldn’t escape the feeling that, to them, he was nothing more than a joke. His whole body felt exposed, not just physically, but emotionally too. Each snide comment chipped away at his pride, but he forced himself to continue.

By the end of the night, John was utterly humiliated but had dutifully fulfilled every command. As the women left, each gave him a teasing pat on the shoulder, thanking him for being such a “great addition” to their Girls’ Night.

As the last of the wine glasses clinked and the laughter softened, the women began to gather their coats, slipping into them with knowing smiles and playful glances at John. They had made their mark, their evening of teasing and power play lingering in the air like a fragrant perfume. The night had been a delicious indulgence, a wicked little escape, and now it was time to return to the real world.

One by one, they approached John, each offering a teasing pat on his butt as they made their way to the door. A blonde woman in a red dress gave him a knowing look, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You are cute, John,” she purred, while running her fingers along the edge of the frilly apron he still wore. Lifting the apron to expose his junk, she smirked and finished with “Hope you’ve learned something tonight.” John could feel the heat rising in his cheeks once more.

The others followed suit, each adding their own brand of teasing as they slipped out into the night. The last woman, a petite brunette, paused by the door, eyes lingering on John for a beat longer than the others. “Goodbye, John,” she said sweetly, but the look in her eyes made him feel like a pet in need of discipline. “I’m sure Jill’s got some more lessons in store for you.”

With that, she was gone, and the door clicked shut behind the final guest. The house grew silent, save for the faint sound of heels echoing down the street and the soft hum of the night.

Jill remained behind, standing in the center of the room as her friends’ laughter faded into the distance. She took in the scene—John, humiliated and awkward in his pink apron, and the mess of empty glasses and scattered crumbs the women had left behind. She had orchestrated the evening with careful precision, reveling in the power and control she held over him.

“Well,” she said, her voice light and triumphant, “I’d say tonight was a success, wouldn’t you?”

John hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously to the floor. He wanted to protest, to speak his mind, but the memory of the evening’s events weighed heavily on his tongue. Instead, he gave a meek nod, unable to find his voice.

Jill smirked, her gaze sharp and confident. “Good. Now, I’m heading to bed. You’ll be down here, cleaning up. And when you’re done…” She let the sentence trail off, eyes glinting with something dark and playful as she stepped closer, trailing a finger down the pink frilly apron he still wore. “Well, let’s just say I’ll be expecting you to earn a little redemption.”

John stood still, the weight of her words sinking in, and for the first time that night, a flash of defiance flickered in his chest. But Jill didn’t give him a chance to protest. She simply winked, turned on her heel, and walked up the stairs, her confident footsteps fading into the distance.

The house felt emptier now, the laughter gone, replaced by the heavy silence of John’s thoughts. He turned his gaze to the mountain of dishes, glasses, and empty bottles waiting to be cleaned, each task feeling like a small reminder of his humiliation. The night had been long, and now the price for his misstep had to be paid.

It took him what felt like hours to clean the kitchen, every movement slow and deliberate, the weight of the apron heavy on his shoulders. When he finally finished, he trudged upstairs, his steps sluggish and defeated.

Jill was already in bed, reclining against the headboard with a trashy romance novel in her hands. She didn’t look up as he entered, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Good timing,” she said nonchalantly, her voice cool but filled with the faintest trace of amusement. “I was just reading about a devoted husband who knew exactly how to make up for his mistakes.”

John stood awkwardly at the door, eyes flicking to the empty space beside her. He could feel the tension in the room, the unspoken expectation hanging in the air like a challenge.

Jill set the book aside, her gaze sharp as she patted the bed beside her. “Well?” she said, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable command. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to show me you’ve learned your lesson?”

Jill pulled the bedding aside, exposing her nude body while simply pointing at her pussy. John took off his apron and crawled into bed. Cunnilingus had never been his favorite activity in the bedroom, but tonight he was determined to show Jill just how sorry he really was.