The compliments were few and far between. What was it he'd said to her today? “You suck like a little vacuum.” Yes, that was it. She'd hated him for it, but it had brought her alive, too. Made her feel like a real living woman. What did Kevin do? Did he react to her? No. He fucked her like it was a chore. If he could hire someone to do it the way he did for the lawn mowing, you could bet your ass he would.
Erin's eyes strayed to Kevin's collection of beer steins on the mantle. He'd acquired them on various trips, most especially to Bavaria. She swore he lavished more affection on them then on her.
I love you, Erin. That's what her husband said. But did he covet her? Did he burn for her? Was he out of his fucking mind over her, crazy with the need to come home and make love to her?
Apparently not.
The first of the steins shattered against the far wall, just below the Picasso print. The second was easier to throw. The third easier still. After the fourth, Erin surveyed the damage.
Fuck. What had she done? There were ceramic shards everywhere and holes in the wall. It was a total disaster.
Erin Jones Wyatt had been a bad girl.
There was no mistaking what Roger would do about this, but what about her husband? Erin's pulse quickened. She could feel the moistness between her legs. An image was forming in her head of mild mannered Kevin totally cross with her, angry enough to punish her, pissed enough to put her across his knee and teach her a real lesson.
Instinctively her hand slipped under the elastic waistband of her shorts and panties both. With surprising ease, her cunt sucked in three full fingers.
Erin was wet and ready.
Was it the thought of discipline doing this? Imagining Kevin taking her in hand, showing the machismo of a Roger Caine?
He would be well within his rights to do so, that was for sure. Kevin was her husband. She trusted and loved him, but she'd also pledged to obey him. If he chose to be stricter she would have no choice but to yield, falling to her knees even.
Erin pushed forward now against the kitchen counter, up on bare tiptoes, pressing her bare belly to the sharp edge of the Formica. The one hand still feverishly masturbating, she tore into the drawer next to her for something. Anything.
A spatula. Oh, god. That would hurt bad, wouldn't it? Once, twice, awkwardly, she whacked herself through her clothes.
"Ouch,” she wailed. But the pain wasn't enough. She needed her ass bare. She needed...
Oh, hell, she needed her husband.
Panting heavily, she went back to the phone. The receiver felt like lead in her hands. She could barely press the button on the speed dial. Kevin answered on about the fifth ring.
"Erin?"
When she spoke it sounded like someone else's voice. “Kevin? I ... I've been a bad girl."
"Is that you, Erin?” His voice was coming through a tunnel. “Are you all right? What are you talking about?"
"B—bad wife,” she choked back the sobs. “Need ... punishment."
There was silence at the other end of the line. Erin touched her clit and started to come.
"Wait for me,” she heard her husband decide. “On the couch."
Erin took it as an order. “Yes ... sir."
She clicked off and tossed herself down on the couch. Stretching out, squirming desperately out of her bottoms, she commenced to some serious self-pleasuring. She would have liked to have had the vibrator. But he'd told her to be on the couch, so that is where she would stay.
Of course this very limitation on her freedom, much to her surprise, was proving to be as big a stimulant as the vibrator. And maybe even more.
* * * *
Erin's call couldn't have come in at a worse time. Bree was on top of him, hands chained behind her back, pumping up and down on his dick. It was hell of a sight, all nice pink girl skin with nice girl muscles and perfect eighteen-year-old girl breasts.
"How's the old ball and chain?” she asked Kevin as he clicked off.
"She's getting wackier every day,” he grumbled. “And you.” He twisted a nipple to get her attention. “I ought to whip your ass good for distracting me like that when I'm trying to talk."
Erin laughed, relishing in the mild torture. “What's the matter?” she teased. “Afraid you'll lose your hard on, old man."
Kevin growled, seizing her hips. “I'll show you old,” said the twenty-five-year-old lawyer.
Bree squealed, legs flailing as he flipped them over, assuming the dominant position. His cock throbbed with instant pleasure at having put her in her place. He liked it this way, and he was liking it more with each fuck.
"This is for pushing your breasts in my face when I was on the phone,” he punished her pelvis with a deep thrust. “And another for licking my ears, and one for squeezing your pussy muscles."
Bree went orbital. She wasn't listening, she was busy convulsing, her own private explosions for which he just happened to be the convenient catalyst. Putting her underneath him like this with the handcuffs on was a joke. He wasn't dominating her. Not the way he wanted.
What was it Erin had said?
I've been a bad girl. I need to be punished.
What in the world would Erin ever do wrong? And asking for punishment? That was too bizarre for words. Still, the possibility hung there in the air, too real to be ignored.
"Cigarette?” she asked afterwards.
"No, thanks. I need to take off, if you don't mind."
She took a puff and shrugged. The fact that he'd kept himself back from orgasming along with her seemed to have gone over her pretty, shaggy pink head. “Whatever. Just close the door on your way out."
Kevin pulled up his pants and threw on his polyester work shirt. “I will but you need to lock it behind me. And don't fall asleep with that cigarette in your hand,” he lectured the notoriously irresponsible young woman.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, daddy."
CHAPTER THREE
Erin heard the car in the garage and ran back to the couch. She'd decided after all to be disobedient by not waiting where Kevin had told her. It was just that she'd wanted to get cleaned up, especially after all those orgasms. God, she'd been like one of those porn stars, bucking and coming and coming and bucking.
If only the sin of infidelity washed away as easily as her own come.
Talk about being a bad girl. It made her toes curl.
Feeling especially wicked, she chose a short red nightie to wear, one on Kevin's favorites. It was spaghetti strap, with tiny panties and it barely covered her ass. Back in the beginning, when everything was new and hot he would call her from work and tell her to put this outfit on for him.
She'd felt loved then. And wanted. In a way she'd never known in her whole life. What she wanted now was to have that back again, and maybe something new besides. Something dark and thrilling. Something nice girls didn't think about much less ask for.
"Hello, Kevin.” She whispered the greeting, a shyness coming over her like it was their first date all over again, Kevin the dashing intern and her the secretary.
Her mother had given her hell for taking that job, especially with an associate's degree. It had just never seemed right to her to be the boss over anyone. She liked working for men. Making them happy.
Kevin looked at his wife and then at the mess on the floor.
"I left it,” she said. “So you'd know what I'd done. I'll clean it up later. I'll fix what I can."
His eyes held a variety of emotions. Erin sucked in a breath, electric. Was she going to get a rise out of him ... finally?
"Erin,” he shook his head. “What possessed you?"
"I was mad you weren't coming home. I thought you were cheating on me. I threw a tantrum.” She said all this quite calmly, neither hiding nor defending her actions.
He went down on one knee to examine the pieces. “You had no right, Erin. You crossed the line."
"I deserve punishment,” she agreed.
Kevin was on his feet again. “Christ, Erin, what the fu
ck has gotten into you? Are you on drugs?"
She held her ground. “Punish me, Kevin. You know you need to."
"No, Erin, what I need to do is take you to a fucking doctor!"
The next thing she knew she was pushing the coffee table over with her bare feet, trying to shatter the glass top. When this failed she ran to the foyer for the imitation Ming vase.
Kevin stopped her, a hand around her waist.
"Let me go,” she squealed.
He lifted her off the ground. “You need help. You're sick."
"I'm not sick,” she wriggled. “I'm just a woman ... who needs a man to help her."
"No,” he countered, dragging her to the dining room. “You're a spoiled brat whose never had to suffer a day in her life."
"At least I worked a real job once ... lawyer."
Kevin sat down heavily, pulling Erin over his lap. She was more than a little aware of her near nudity, not to mention the blatant inequality between them strength-wise.
"I'm sick of your shit, Erin!” Kevin smacked her hard, his palm punishing her silk clad ass. “If you don't like what I do for a living, you know where the door is."
"Ow, that hurt!” she cried.
Kevin spanked her again. “I thought it's what you wanted?"
"It's ... it's too much."
"Really? Let's try it bare assed, then."
She tried to fight him as he pulled at her panties. Brutally, he pinched her ass, winning control. “Hands down, Erin. Now."
She obeyed and Kevin got instantly hard. “I want you to count them,” he yanked her panties down. “And no moving around on me, or I'll double your sentence.
"Yes, sir,” she croaked, as into this as he was.
He let her lay docile for a second. The smell of her wet sex filled the air. Reaching around he found her nipples tight and swollen. A second later he was swatting her.
"One,” moaned Erin Wyatt as her husband disciplined her officially. “Two."
By five she was panting. He ran his hand over her red-hot cheeks, pausing to poke a finger up her virgin asshole. Just how far could they push this domination thing? Was he going to try and get his dick into that magic opening she had steadfastly refused him in their marriage so far?
"Have you learned your lesson, Erin?"
Her body went rigid fighting the urge to move. He seemed thrilled with his newfound power. He had her. He really had her. “Actually, I don't think you have learned,” he countered. “Not just yet."
"Kevin, oh god, what are you doing?"
"Claiming what's mine, Erin.” He pushed his finger deeper. “And since you have so little respect for my property, I have decided to deprive you of a little bit of your comfort space."
It was anal sex he was after. Just as she'd feared.
She thrashed her head. “I don't want this, Kevin. I don't want it. I don't."
He put one finger each in her behind and her pussy. “Your sex says otherwise."
Erin's ass lifted, against her own will. “It's r—rape,” she winced.
Kevin frowned. Ten times, in rapid succession, he struck his wife's already well-punished posterior.
Immediately afterwards, he stroked her clit. “This will continue,” he informed her, “until you are ready to proceed."
She whimpered defiantly.
Halfway through the second cycle, she screamed for mercy. He stopped the spanking, though the fingers went right back to masturbating her. It was a little technique he'd learned from Bree. Something guaranteed to drive a woman to distraction. Pleasure, pain. Pain, pleasure. In the world of kink it could be as delicious as sweet and sour pork. Only here it was a weapon, designed to win his wife's submission.
"Tell me what you want, Erin."
"I want to ... proceed,” she avoided saying the exact words.
"Not good enough. You have to be specific."
"I want to be fucked in the ass,” Erin blurted, barely avoiding a fresh blow.
Kevin savored the moment, his crotch pressing hard against her naked pelvis. “Beg for it, Erin."
He heard his tormented wife sob and for the first it dawned on him that he might not only be kinky but a sadist to boot.
"Please ... fuck my ass ... take me,” she said, humiliated.
Kevin whacked her, harder than all the other times combined. “I want you to crawl to the bed. Get on all fours and wait for me."
Erin did as she was told, whimpering. Kevin watched her beaten ass twitch out of view. She'd never looked this good to him, never looked this hot. He was going to tear her open as horny as he was. Deciding to give her a little more time to think about it, and needing a little something to brace his courage to really go through with this, he went to the bar to pour himself a scotch.
Here's to good health, he toasted. Here's to Roger Caine, making my career, giving me all the billable hours I can handle and making me a shoe in for partner. And here's for the first shot at some good sex with my wife since our honeymoon. Scratch that—even then she'd been starting to freeze up inside, like she had this idea she had to be as rigid as the freaking plastic bride's doll on the cake. This last notion made him laugh.
Kevin poured himself another. It wasn't really that funny, though, was it? Treating Erin like a whore. Where did he get off? He must be losing his mind. Bracing himself for damage control, he finished the fresh whisky and walked to the bedroom.
His perky wife was right where he'd told her to be. On her hands and knees evenly spaced, her head down, silky gold hair hanging down to the comforter. In this position the negligee offered him a full view of what he'd done. Handprints covered both cheeks.
Her pussy lips were swollen and red. Glistening fluid oozed out. She seemed to be in some kind of trance, her breathing steady, slow and sexy.
Interesting.
"Erin,” He leaned over the edge of the bed, and put his hand on her back, whispering softly in her so as not to startle her. “It's over, baby. Nothing more is going to happen."
Erin lifted her head, reaching for him. Kevin thought she was after a hug, but it was his crotch she wanted. Clawing at the belt, buttons and zipper she opened his pants to get at his throbbing member. It popped through the opening of his boxers and directly into her mouth.
Scooting her body around to fully face him, she began sucking him like her life depended on it. She was like a mole, eyes still closed, seeking the light, or a tiny newborn animal seeking out nourishment.
"Erin...” he sucked in his breath. “Oh ... god."
She was adoring his cock. Frigging worshipping it. Where in hell had this come from? The spanking? The out and out domination? Could it be the impulses in Bree to mix in a little rough stuff with her sex was more universal in the fair sex than he'd realized?
The rush was incredible. So much pent up tension. The earlier anger, the guilt about Bree and the sheer rush of putting Erin over his knee, making her cry and beg ... and crawl.
He was on the verge of orgasm.
"Erin, baby, we have to stop.” Kevin tried to pull her off of him before he came. If his sperm ended up in her mouth with him this worked up, she might end up with it down her throat. And then she'd freak. Especially with everything else that had gone on.
But Erin wasn't going to back off tonight. In fact, before he could dislodge her, she managed to wrap her arms around his ass cheeks, sealing the contact. With noisy slurps she bore down, forcing the issue.
Damn. Did she really want to swallow tonight?
Kevin groaned in pleasure, reveling in the sheer glory of using his wife's mouth for his ultimate fulfillment. “Oh, you beautiful bitch ... you fucking ... cock sucking ... little blonde ... bitch."
The semen spurted from his opening in time to the verbal bursts. It was a total, absolute perfect mouth fuck. Complete with sweet, sweet gulping.
Every muscle tensed. He was pushing the semen from the bottom of his toes, through his biceps and through fiercely gritted teeth.
Fucking ... incredible. That was
the only way to describe this.
Erin drained every last drop and then continued to suck, bringing him down gently and reverently. He ran his hands through her hair, his body feeling sated and full of gently rolling energy. “If I didn't know better,” he murmured. “I would swear you've been practicing."
He looked down a moment later and saw her shoulders shaking. Oh, shit, she was crying. That's what he got for trying to project his own infidelities, even in jest. Talk about bad timing, too—after he'd just beaten and humiliated her over a few lousy broken mugs.
"Baby, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."
"I—I'm a terrible wife,” she wept. “You—you should get rid of me."
He gathered her up in his arms. “That's ridiculous. I'm the terrible one. I don't deserve you."
Kevin ended up laying down with her in bed, his chest a pillow for her cheek, his arm a shield to keep away the kind of chill that can only come from deep within a disappointed soul.
How much more hurt she'd be if he told her the truth. About Bree. About everything.
"Kevin, there's something I need to..."
He soothed her, keeping her from using up her energy. “Let it go, Erin. You don't owe me any explanations. It's all my fault. All of it."
After a while, she fell asleep, clinging tightly. He felt like such a heel. She trusted him for everything. She gave him her full loyalty. The worst complaint he had was that she was boring in bed. Well maybe if he spent more time here himself it would give her reason to be more enthusiastic.
I have to tell her, he thought. In the morning. And then I have to end things with Bree.
CHAPTER FOUR
Erin waited till Kevin was gone to look in the mirror at her ass. She was dying to see if there were any marks from his hand. She was sore, she knew that much. She'd have gotten up to do this earlier, but she knew how guilty he felt about spanking her as it was. Three separate times he'd come to her as she lay in bed this morning to apologize as he was getting ready.
Obediently Ever After Page 3