Aching to Submit (7 page)

“Five extra strokes for speaking when you weren’t asked a question,” he said. “And every time you forget the ‘Sir,’ you get five more. This is a punishment. You don’t get a safeword for this.”

He paused while she absorbed his words. She felt frightened, but also aroused even as she understood she was to be punished. Maybe because of it.

“I have another question for you,” he began.

She waited, shifting on her feet.

“That night you said you were out getting drinks with Lucille. You were at the club?”

She felt the heat of embarrassment on her face. “I walked by, I didn’t dare go inside, but yes, it was a lie. I wasn’t with Lucille.”

He nodded. “Tell me why you’re being punished,” he said, rubbing the flat of the paddle against his thigh.

She couldn’t help looking at it, wondering how it was going to feel, how much it was going to hurt. Wondering if he was really going to go through with it. If he could.

“Because I lied, I’ve been lying to you. And I went to the club without you, without you even knowing. I… are you punishing me for Kyan? Nothing happened,” she said.

He shook his head. “You’re lucky he was the guy who picked you up at the door. But the rest of it is right. Anything else you’d like to add?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Sir.” It felt so strange to refer to him as Sir.

He nodded. “Bend over the bed. You can keep your hands underneath your chest but you’re not reach back to cover yourself. Clear?”

She nodded, a sudden rush of pure panic flushing adrenaline through her. She glanced at the door just beyond him.

“Problem, Sophie?” he asked for the second time that night.

“I’m scared,” she said outright, shifting on her feet, folding her arms across her chest, then unfolding them, unsure what to do.

“I’m going to punish you hard, but I won’t give you more than you can take,” he said. “Now let’s not drag this out. Bend over the bed. This is happening, Soph.”

She swallowed, dared one last glance at the paddle, and turned. It took her a moment as she bent slowly forward over the dense pillows until her chest was on the bed. She tucked her arms beneath her breasts and looked ahead, her body already tightening in preparation of what was to come.

The toe of his shoe tapped at her ankle and she spread her legs wider. Michael set the paddle down on the bed and she felt his hands on her ass just touching her, his caress soft.

“I’m scared,” she said again. “Sir,” she added, suddenly very aware of not wanting to add on a single additional stroke.

“I love you, Sophie,” he said. “I would never do anything that would really harm you. You need this punishment and our marriage needs it maybe more than either of us realize. I want you to trust me to do this. Do you trust me?” he asked.

She looked over her shoulders, meeting his eyes. She nodded. “Yes, Sir. I trust you.”

He smiled a kind, gentle smile. “Good girl,” he said. “Face forward now until I tell you you’re allowed to turn around.”

She obeyed, anticipation tightening her belly while arousal warmed her sex.

His hand came down hard on her right cheek and she jumped up, reaching back immediately to cover it. “Ow!” she exclaimed.

His hand was between her shoulder blades fast. “Stay down,” he said. “And get your hand off your ass. It’s mine now. Do it, Sophie.”

“It hurt.”

“I meant it to hurt, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” She lay back down and tucked her arm back beneath her chest.

“Good girl,” he said. With that, he began. He used his hand first, the contact of it on her bare flesh strange, almost foreign used this way. The sound was loud, more overwhelming than the pain, but as he continued, it turned into a constant but manageable sting.

He spanked quickly, striking each buttock in turn, sometimes twice on one side before moving over to the other side. But the pain was something else entirely when he first struck with the paddle.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, trying to rise, but unable to as he still held her down. She pressed her thighs together and reached back to cover her now stinging bottom.

“What did I tell you about your hands?” Michael asked, gripping both of them in one of his and holding them at her low back. He struck again, harder this time, pushing her down onto the bed so her torso pressed against it, forcing her hips higher as her bottom took the next blow.

“Ow, ow, ow!” she cried, struggling against his hold. “Wait, please. Please just a minute.” She was struggling to get free now, shifting her hips from side to side to avoid the blows, fighting him.

He struck twice more, then stopped. “All right,” he said, lifting her by one arm. He pushed the pillows off the bed and pulled her across his lap, trapping her legs beneath one of his and her hands at her low back. Her torso rested partially on the bed, but he shifted the position a little so she hung off his thighs.

She groaned with the next strike of the paddle, this change in position, her being bent over his knee, almost giving him better access. Maybe it was that she couldn’t struggle as much or that her struggling had less impact on what was happening. She lost track of the count she’d been keeping without ever being aware she’d been counting and just concentrated on the pain, the heat of her bottom, and the heat that spread throughout her body, causing her to break out in a sweat.

“When I first saw you there at the club,” he said while continuing to spank her hard, “I could have killed that man. I could have killed him for touching you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cried out. “It hurts, please stop, Michael. I’m sorry.”

“Then when I found out what it was all about,” he continued, striking the crease between thigh and buttock, then the outer curve of her right hip.

She moaned in pain, her fantasies of spanking very different from this painful reality.

She turned to look over her shoulder, her face contorted in pain, her vision blurry with tears.

“Michael,” she said.

He met her gaze and stopped for a moment.

“Sir, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes were moist even as she felt the thick shaft of his cock at her belly. She heard the paddle drop to the floor and his hand was on her bottom caressing her sore, swollen flesh. He released her hands and she reached to the floor to support herself with one while wiping at her eyes with the other.

“Breathe,” he said, his voice calm, even.

She nodded and tried to take a deep breath, but it came in in shudders.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s over,” he said, lifting her onto his lap, spreading his thighs so her bottom was between his legs. He held her to him, rubbing her back, her head until she found she had no more tears to cry.

She looked up at him, bringing her tear-stained lips to his. He kissed her and it was perhaps the most intimate kiss they’d ever shared.

Slowly, he rose to stand and deposited her on her feet.

He looked down at her.

“How do you feel?” he asked, pushing away the wisps of hair that had slipped from her braid and now stuck to her wet face.

“It hurts,” she began, “but I feel better,” she finished. Strangely, she understood the emotion. The physical punishment had somehow worked to alleviate her of the guilt of her lies, her deceit. She hadn’t imagined it worked like this. This was, in fact, very different from what she’d envisioned at all.

He took her face in his hands as if he were touching her for the first time. She put her hands on his chest, then slid them down to grasp his cock, thick and hard and ready for her. But when she began to unbuckle his belt, he covered her hand with his and shook his head.

“Paddling is over but your punishment is not. Not yet,” he said, his voice controlled.

She looked at him, confused, but followed when he walked her over to the wall.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said, turning her so her nose was in the corner. “Put your hands up. Here, on the wall,” he said. “Don’t touch your bottom. I want to watch you like this.”

She followed him with her worried gaze as he walked away, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. She heard the zipper of his pants as he continued to strip and she wanted nothing more than to mount him, climb on top of him, and take his cock deep inside her. She wanted him to fuck her, to make her come. Her pussy was dripping, smearing juice on her thigh even as her ass burned with the heat of her punishment.

He made a noise from the bed. “Christ, you look fucking fantastic. Your ass, Soph, is amazing,” he said.

She met his gaze.

“No, nose to the wall. I still owe you a few strokes for not using the proper address earlier, but we’ll do those tomorrow morning. Now, I’m just going to watch you.”

He was quiet after that and fifteen minutes felt like an hour as she stood staring at the white wall, her nose touching it, feeling thoroughly chastised, thoroughly aroused. She needed to come, her pussy was swollen, her clit throbbed, wanting, wanting, wanting.

“Come here,” he called finally.

She turned to find him naked on the bed, his thick cock in his hand, the head of it glistening.

“On your hands and knees on the bed and suck my cock,” he said.

She climbed up eagerly and when he fisted a handful of her hair to guide her roughly, she moaned, a fresh trail of her arousal slick on her thighs. She lifted her ass higher as she brought her face to his lap, his hand managing the fucking of her mouth. She tasted him, the slick, salty dew and wanted him to come in her mouth, to make her swallow, to punish her again if she spilled even a drop.

But he stopped and pulled her off of him with a groan.

“I need to be inside that pussy tonight,” he said. “Show it to me. Turn around, get your ass in the air and your face on the bed, and show me your pussy.”

He’d never talked to her like this. No, that wasn’t true, he had. She’d just always been too embarrassed to encourage it.

She turned to offer herself to him, just as he’d ordered. She spread her legs wide and buried her face in the bed, squealing when he slapped her beaten, tender flesh, but only lifted higher when his cock penetrated her drenched pussy in one hard thrust. He fucked her hard, his hands on her still burning cheeks, spreading her open. When his thumb closed over her anus, she moaned into the bed, her orgasm so violent, so severe, that the pleasure matched the pain of the punishment she’d just taken. Her pussy clenched around his cock as his thumb pressed into her back hole and she could only gasp for breath as he stilled, filling her as he climaxed.

She heard only his ragged breath once he began to slowly pull out of her.

“Christ,” he said. “No, stay. I want to watch you a little longer.”

Sophie remained as she was, her face reddening as she heard him settle back, unwilling to meet his gaze. She felt embarrassed, but at the same time, reveled in her exposure, her vulnerability. Every emotion and thought warred with every other emotion and thought—even confusion with complete and utter understanding.

When she felt the leaking of his semen as it spilled out of her and slowly trailed down her thigh, she made a small sound, ashamed but also wanting just exactly this. Needing this humiliation, this shame.

“Look at me,” he said. She turned her face slightly so she could see him out of one eye. He was leaning against the headboard, one arm overhead, completely relaxed. “You liked when I pushed my finger inside your ass, didn’t you?” he asked.

She could only stare for a moment as heat flushed her face red.

“The five tomorrow morning are going to be hard enough, I imagine. You don’t want to make it six, Soph,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” she quickly supplied.

“Yes, Sir, what? Say it. Tell me what you liked, what you want. Trust me.”

She lifted her head up and kept her eyes at a point just beyond his shoulder. “Yes, Sir. I liked when you… pushed your finger inside me. Inside… my ass.”

He smiled a satisfied smile and climbed off the bed, slapping her hip once.

She flinched and he grinned.

“Let’s have a shower, get you cleaned up,” he said.

The alarm went off at half past six the next morning. Michael hit snooze and rolled onto his side, collecting Sophie into his arms.

“Ouch,” she winced.

He eased back a little, knowing she’d be sore from last night, considering not giving her the five he promised this morning. This was new to him, very new. He’d never even hand spanked a girlfriend. Well, that wasn’t true. He’d done it once in high school more as a joke, a dare from the girl. Although he couldn’t recall her name, he remembered that night well. She’d been pretty bratty and when he’d called her on it, she’d taunted him into spanking her. He’d gotten hard, he remembered that much. But back then, it didn’t take much to get him hard.

Sophie’s braid had come partially undone during the night. She’d slept through the night though, which he knew didn’t happen regularly. In fact, most nights when she’d wake up, he’d lie there pretending to be asleep especially if he heard her crying, at a loss for how to talk to her after so many months of silence.

At that thought, he pulled her tight to him just as the alarm went off again. He kissed her softly on her ear, pushing the hair away. She moaned and turned her face to his.

“Good morning,” he whispered, kissing her again.

“Mmm… Good morning,” she replied, her eyes still closed.

“Remember,” he said.

She opened her eyes, rubbing out the sleep.

“Five strokes this morning.” His cock was hard.

“But I’m sore,” she protested.

“All the surer you’ll remember to use the Sir next time. I’m going to have a shower; stay in bed. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, rolling over onto his pillow and watching him as he went into the bathroom.

His cock was hard throughout his shower and he knew just what he’d have her do to relieve him. He shaved and splashed aftershave onto his face and neck. It was a scent she’d chosen for him when they were first dating, one he’d used ever since. He brushed his hair and, without dressing, returned to the bedroom to find Sophie sitting up, holding the paddle.