by Renee Rose
“Good girl,” he said, kissing her hair. “You took your spanking so well, Claire. Thank you for being so brave.”
She snuggled in, his praise, his strong arms the only balm she needed to recover.
~.~
Luis held his little wife until she stopped shaking, murmuring every endearment he could think of. The sight of her freshly whipped ass excited him, perverse though it was. He liked spanking her far better when it was for play rather than punishment. He pulled her back over his lap, and knew the spanking had been sufficient by the fearful gasp Claire gave.
“No, I’m all finished spanking, mi corazón.” He ran his hand over her swollen orbs. “I just like to inspect my work.” He stroked her for a few moments, then parted her cheeks, looking at the pucker of her anus. Reaching to the side table, where he’d previously installed a few toys, he picked up the bottle of lube and squeezed a dollop onto her orifice. She flinched and he gave a gentle slap. “Stay open for me.”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice quavered.
“Good girl.”
He lubed his finger and pressed at her entrance until she relaxed and allowed him entry.
She gasped, tightening her thighs but keeping her cheeks relaxed.
He worked his finger in and out, making her squirm and whine with need. When she seemed sufficiently wound up, he removed his finger, reaching for the stainless steel butt plug.
Claire lay panting across his lap, the muscles in her back taut in anticipation. He coated the plug in lubricant and nudged it against her back hole, gradually gaining entry and earning several keening cries as he pushed past the largest diameter before it entered fully.
“You will keep this plug in to remind you who you belong to,” he said, his voice thickened with desire. He wanted to take her right there, but his idea was to make them both wait—to keep her on the edge of desire for several hours before allowing any release. He wanted another baby-making orgasm out of her.
He gave her bottom a pat. “How about breakfast?”
She lay still, as if adjusting to the idea they were not having sex at the moment. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice tinged with surprise. “Do you want to screen my outfits?” She scrambled up from his lap and climbed off the bed.
He grinned, leaning back for the show. “Yes, please.”
She reached behind her, touching the plug in her reddened ass—an incredibly beautiful sight. Catching him watching, she blushed and ducked her head, walking to her suitcase. She pulled out a black satin bustier that laced up the front and barely covered her breasts.
“I approve.”
She giggled, pulling out a pair of thigh-high fishnet stockings.
“Yes, I approve,” he said, not waiting for her to model them. “I’ll jump in the shower and look forward to the picture you’ll make cooking breakfast like that.” His cock saluted her as he walked to the bathroom.
After he showered and dressed, he found her in the kitchen.
Por Dios.
He was not going to make it a few hours. The visage of Claire standing at the stove in nothing but a pair of stockings and a corset was too much. Framed between the black garments her pert little ass displayed the butt plug and the red lines of his whipping. He couldn’t make himself sit back and enjoy. He needed to touch, to claim, to have what belonged to him.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, his fingers reaching between her legs.
Her pussy dripped with moisture, the folds plump and swollen for him.
“Oh God, Claire. You’re so ready for me.”
She pressed her hand over his, urging his fingers deeper.
“You want more?”
“Yes, sir,” she pleaded.
“Turn off the burner,” he commanded, though the vegetables were only half-cooked.
She obeyed, turning to face him with an eager expression.
He pointed to the overstuffed chair in the living room. “Bend over the arm of that chair.”
“Yes, sir.”
He followed closely behind, his hands on her hips the moment she bent over. Pressing into her, he gave the butt plug a shove with his low belly.
Her startled cry had a wanton pitch. “You’re my wife to fuck, and I’m going to fuck you hard, Claire.”
“Yes, sir.” The excitement in her voice was the only encouragement he needed to take her as roughly as he desired. Grasping her shoulders, he drove into her, bumping the plug each time to give her the sensation of double penetration. She moaned for more, even as her cries told him his force approached her limit.
“Yes, Claire, oh God, yessss!” He came sooner than he’d wanted to but with full satisfaction. Claire followed moments later in a series of contractions and sobs of pleasure.
He leaned against her, his cock still twitching within. Stroking the front of her neck, he pulled her head back toward him. “Beautiful girl. So sweet.”
“Luis,” she murmured.
He withdrew from her and went to get a washcloth, then realized the importance of keeping his seed within her. He scooped her legs up and slid her onto her back on the armchair, lifting her legs in the air. “Hold your legs up here, sweetheart.” He helped her grasp behind her knees.
He stroked her thigh and bottom, then fingered the plug. “How does this feel, Clarita? Can you leave it in or are you getting sore?”
“Sore,” she admitted.
“We’ll take it out, then.” He eased it from her body. “Sweet girl. You’ve been so good.”
She blinked, blushing and smiling.
He kissed her muscled calf. “You just lie here, I’ll shower again, then finish breakfast. What were you making?”
“Omelets.” She blew him a kiss.
~.~
She could get used to being cared for this way.
She should enjoy it to the fullest, because this could be the last time the two of them focused only on each other for many years, if they managed to have a baby. A stab of pain broke through the gratitude before she shoved it back.
Why couldn’t she just revel in his love and attention, just be in the moment? Why did she always have to look at what they lacked? A tear escaped the corner of her eye, dripping toward her ear.
Gah. Enough of the same bitter drama.
She resisted the urge to sniff, not wanting to alert Luis to her little bitty-pity-party. Instead she stuffed the pain back inside, watching her handsome husband as he stood at the stove, taking stock of what she had started.
He showered and dressed, then finished cooking, while she remained with her bottom in the air. “Okay, Claire, come to breakfast.”
She sat on the washcloth he’d brought her since her bottom was still bare. It felt awkward to eat at the table without panties, and Luis made it worse.
“I think I’m ready for the corset to come off,” he informed her.
Her cheeks grew warm. “Luis,” she whined.
“Instant obedience. Or you will be punished.” He pulled a wooden spoon from his back pocket and waved it.
Her face grew even hotter as she fumbled with the hooks in the back to free herself of the top. Her breasts sprang free from their pushed-up position, overlooking her plate of food. Discomfort with the situation sparked irritation until she caught the smolder in Luis’s eye as he smirked at her. She lifted her chin. “Enjoying yourself?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Come here,” he beckoned.
Her knees felt weak as she stood and walked around the table to stand before him. He pulled out the spoon again and gave her three sharp whacks on her bottom.
“Ooh!” She danced away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her to stand trapped between his knees.
“Enjoying yourself, what?”
She stared, confused. “Oh. Enjoying yourself, sir?” she amended.
He grinned. “Yes. Quite a bit. You may sit.”
She scampered back to her seat, eating the tasty omelet. “Thank you for making breakfast...sir.”
He beamed. “My pleasure.”
; She imagined the way he would take care of her when she was pregnant and the pang of yearning returned.
“After breakfast, we are going to have an Appreciative Inquiry. Do you know what that is?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a method of evaluation. We will examine our relationship—both the domestic discipline side and our marriage in general.”
She licked her lips, feeling irrationally nervous. Of course, nothing got by Luis.
“There is nothing to worry about, querida. Remember, boot camp is not to correct, it is to grow.”
She flashed him a grateful smile and wiped her lips with her napkin. “Would you reconsider clothing?” Then hastily tacked on “—sir?”
He gave her a wicked grin. “No chance. I was just looking forward to watching you wash the dishes like that.”
She rolled her eyes, but took his cue, standing and collecting their plates from the table to clean up. True to his word, Luis leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head to watch with a leer. When she finished, he called her to the couch.
“Now, consider yourself lucky, mi amor. Some heads of household require their subs to sit on a hard wooden surface for the assignments. I don’t see the benefit in that, though. Of course, I’m assuming I did spank you hard enough that you’re still sore?”
“Yes!” she said hurriedly.
He laughed and handed her a piece of paper with questions typed on it and spaces for her answers. Giving her a pen, he said, “Take as much time as you need to answer these questions for our first assignment.”
“Our assignment?”
With a movement so swift she did not even guess it was coming. Luis pulled her to stand and peppered her bottom with sharp smacks with the wooden spoon.
“Sir!” she hollered. “Sor-ry! I meant, ‘our assignment’, sir!”
“That’s better.” He pushed her back to sit. He went on as if the little spanking interlude had never happened. “Yes, I will be filling out a similar worksheet and we’ll discuss our answers when we are through. The first topic relates to DD.”
She picked up the pen he offered and scanned through the questions.
1. What things can I do to help you feel submissive? What things do you do to help yourself feel submissive?
She chewed on the end of her pen, then wrote:
Things you do:
—Give me the stern look
—Issue an order, particularly one that seems meaningless, so I don’t feel guilty—like telling me what to wear
—Spank me (duh!)
—Hold me down when we have sex
Things I do:
—Dress with you in mind
—Cook for you
—Wash and iron your clothes
—Suck your cock
—Kneel (I guess I don’t do that without being ordered, so that should be moved above)
She read the next question:
2. What moment(s) stand out where my dominance worked?
Her jaw trembled as she remembered the way he had tried to wrest control of the pregnancy project from her. She regretted the way she’d reacted to his scheduling of the appointment with the fertility specialist—she’d shut him down without appreciating the effort he was making to rid her of stress. Blinking back tears, she wrote:
“Taking over the pregnancy project. So grateful—I love you.”
She read the third question:
3. What rules do you love? What rules would help you grow?
She wrote: “I love all your rules. I love when you give me rules. I love obeying your rules.”
She thought about it more and realized there could be many rules she wouldn’t love. She had read about DD head of households with very strict, controlling expectations. She would hate that. She amended. “I guess I wouldn’t love all rules if you made too many, though. I like that your rules are fair and reasonable. I like arbitrary ones when they are outlandish enough to make me smile,” she wrote, remembering when he had given a playful spanking for letting the house run out of toilet paper.
She put her pen down.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Read them to me.”
She cleared her throat, feeling shy, and read her answers. When she looked up, Luis looked at her with warm affection.
“I notice you didn’t mention, spanking me to tears,” he probed.
She dropped her eyes, hands tangling in her lap. She did not like it when Luis second-guessed himself as the head of household or asked if a punishment was too harsh. She needed him to be in charge. What was she supposed to say, that she enjoyed being spanked to tears? She could admit it was often what she needed, but it was not something she was going to request.
He put a finger under her chin to lift it.
She dragged her eyes to meet his gaze. “I like the way you handle me,” she admitted in a small voice. That was as much as she would say on the matter.
~.~
Claire always grew awkward when he tried to get feedback about the way he disciplined. He understood the embarrassment of it, and also that she might be reluctant to admit a spanking worked.
“Do you want to hear my answers?”
She nodded.
“I feel dominant when you call me sir. And I love when you give me your big-eyed look.”
“This one?” she asked, grinning and making her eyes round and child-like.
He chucked her cheek. “Esta. And I adore when you play housewife for me—I can feel your love when you cook and take care of our household. And what I’m learning—what I’d like to do better, is help you handle your stress.”
Claire blushed and blinked back tears. “I think you’ve figured it out,” she mumbled.
He brushed a strand of her thick brown hair out of her eyes. “I think I’m onto something.”
She picked up his hand and gave it a quick kiss.
“Want to go for a walk?”
“Am I allowed to wear clothes?” She grinned.
“Hmm,” he said in mock consideration. “I guess so. Just this once.” He gave her a wink.
They hiked the ski valley, holding hands, enjoying the relative quiet since the ski valley had shut down a few weeks prior. The river raged, swollen with the snowmelt, the green shoots of spring sprouting all around. The air was chilly, but the sun was strong and warm at the high altitude.
When they returned, he took her hand and led her into the living room, in front of the gas fireplace, which he clicked on. He tugged her shirt over her head, cupping her bra-covered breasts in his hands. Running his lips over her neck, he unhooked the undergarment. She shivered when he ran his thumbs across her taut nipples.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” she whispered.
Unbuttoning her jeans, he slid them over her hips, running his hands down her legs as he crouched to help her step out of them. He could hear her breath had already quickened.
“This is the way I like you. Completely naked.” He ran his hands up and down her sides. “Vulnerable,” he murmured in her ear. “Ready for anything I might like to do to you.”
Her head dropped back, her thick silky hair brushing his chest.
“It’s time for your next spanking.”
She did not tense or catch her breath at all, already aroused.
“I rather liked that position I had you in after sex this morning.” He led her to sofa, and pulled her to sit on his lap. “Lie with your back down on the couch.”
She reclined and lifted her legs, holding behind her knees, her pelvis propped on his lap, bottom angled perfectly for his hand. His cock, already hard from undressing her, strained against his trousers. He loved the diaper position for erotic spanking because it was ideal for slapping her pussy at the same time. For a serious punishment with his belt, she hated it. She said her flesh stretched too much to provide any padding, her pussy lay unprotected from the leather and the eye contact while he lectured was unavoidable. He h
ad only punished her in the diaper position once, when he had been truly annoyed with her behavior.
But this was her light spanking.
He relished the heady sensation of having her bared bottom and sex so close—even closer than if she were lying across his lap, so close he could smell the scent of her arousal as he began to slap and rub the sting away.
“My sweet little wife,” he crooned as his hand began to strike with more force, making her jump and gasp. He spoke with love, determined to keep her in the erotic headspace. He spanked until her flesh was red all over, and the color began to hold.
Placing his hands under her pelvis, he lifted it toward him, lowering his mouth to meet her sex, licking into her, despite the unusual angle. Her ankles wrapped around his head, urging him deeper and he penetrated her with his tongue, then licked and teased the swollen nub of her clit until she moaned with desire.
“Do not come,” he ordered thickly.
Her body stilled, her eyes wide and questioning.
“I’m keeping you hungry until bedtime.”
“Luis,” she pleaded.
He gave her several slaps right over her sex. “Who is in charge of you?”
“You are!” she gasped.
“Good girl.” He repeated the exercise several times—torturing her with his tongue, then spanking hard until they both were groaning with need. Pushing his own desire back, he said, “It’s time for our second assignment.”
He lowered her pelvis and helped her to swing her legs down and torso up, ignoring her look of disheveled confusion. Handing her the worksheet he’d made for their exercise, he read out loud:
1. What makes you feel loved by me?
2. What more could I do to help you feel loved and/or supported?
3. What ways do you like to show your love?
4. How can we build on what we have?”
Claire blinked, as if still dazed from her near-orgasm. He handed her a pen with a wink.