Picks up after “Liz Needs a Soak and More…”
She sat on the bed in only her blouse and panties. She was moving slowly; as if any sudden movements would provoke him.
“They weren’t kids!” he said sharply. “Kids are short pants and juice boxes-these are men.”
His voice froze her. “Are you going to fight me on this?”
What “this” did he mean? The point that Bob and Frank were kids and not really men-which she knew she couldn’t win. Or did he mean was she going to fight him on what was feeling like the inevitable outcome of this scolding. Which is what this had turned into. She hadn’t told him everything she had done with the boys-thankfully-but just the thought that she had gone to their house alone, without alerting him to where she was, was a serious breach of the understanding that they shared. She didn’t look up, watching his feet as he moved around the bedroom. He was wearing the black ankle boots that she had bought him online.
“I’ll give you your Black Belts-and I know you can handle yourself and you could probably do more to these guys than just beat their asses. I know that. But dammit-you are supposed to call or text. You can’t go into these unknown situations without me knowing where you are. Right?”
She was silent.
“Right?” he asked again.
“You’re right”, she said studying the grain in the hardwood floor. He was right.
Sitting on the end of the bed with her blonde hair curtaining her downcast face, she was the picture of contrition. And submission. John’s eyes moved from the crown of her head to the white on white faux tuxedo shirt she was wearing. He hadn’t seen it before and knew that tucked into her jeans it would accent her broad swimmer’s shoulders and flat midriff. Now though, the tail covered her lap and his eyes ran down her long thighs to her bare feet. He loved her feet-he had bathed them and massaged them-even kissed them when the mood and game called for it but he had no illusions about them. She had kicked him once in sparring-a reverse crescent kick to his headgear-that brought on the stars even though she had pulled the kick. The woman was a weapon. Truthfully, he would have loved to be a fly on a wall if those guys had tried anything with her.
But still, rules were rules-and they had so few of them these days. He knew she was waiting on his word. All he had to do was order it and she would roll over onto her belly and push down her panties and take what he gave her.
She watched his feet. They were in front of her and not moving toward the cabinet where they kept the equipment. The fluttering in her chest that flickered to life when a punishment seemed imminent settled into her stomach but went no lower. There was always a tingle between her legs when a spanking was in the offing. Whether it was a punishment paddling, a caning or a slap and tickle over the knee hand spanking she could count on the tingle which would grow into a quiver, then a tremor until finally a roar as her chastisement escalated. Now however, she was sexually sated-there was nothing left between her legs to pull her into the warm little world of comfort and security where a spanking always took her. Being spanked after an orgasm-much less three of them-erased the sexuality and made it more about just getting your butt beat. It was like a whole different level of nakedness.
His boots clicked away across the floor and she heard the cabinet door open. “Dammit!” she thought. Even the worst paddlings she had taken ended had ended in some kind of sex. This one wouldn’t. “Dammit!” she thought again. She reached up to unbutton her blouse. She would take it off so it wouldn’t wrinkle as she lay over the bed, or his lap, or whatever he wanted. She thought about which paddle he would bring over and didn’t want to look up to see it. Sitting at dinner would be a bitch. Why hadn’t she just texted?
He stood in front of her and she looked up, her eyes lidded and dull. His dark brown eyes sparkled and danced with an electricity that jumped at her. “I want you to wear this tonight.” He was holding out a small silver chain with a cross that looked to have been made of repurposed nails. “One of my tenants makes these…I think they’re pretty cool.”
It was roughly beautiful as far as she could see but the welling in her eyes blurred all the edges. Behind the hand that held the cross she caught John’s wicked smile. Liz sprung to her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You bastard”, she breathed in relief before she closed her mouth over his.
“Come on now”, he said pulling away after a few moist moments. “Get dressed-I’m starved.”
Now she felt that tingle.