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Mark stood up, went to his wife’s vanity, reached out, and grabbed Laura’s own wooden, flat-backed hairbrush. Then he went to sit at the foot of the bed again. “Bend over my knee,” he ordered, keeping that menacing, flat-backed wooden tool in his hands. At the view of the wooden hairbrush in Mark’s hands, Laura widened her already moist eyes and, shaking, with a lump in her throat, obeyed. Settling herself onto Mark’s lap, Laura could feel the man’s massive erection butting against her mons. But the cruel, punishing force of the first hairbrush smack disturbed that pleasurable sensation. Holding the instrument of bum punishment, Mark’s hand flashed down again and again, and layer upon layer of heat and pain suffused Laura’s bottom. That merciless hairbrush covered every inch of the pretty woman’s upturned backside, from the top of the cleft, across the voluptuous expanse of the buttocks, down to the tender flesh of her already rosy-red thighs. The skin there was particularly sensitive, and the spanked wife wailed in dismay, kicking up her legs as she began to struggle against his grip.