Cheri's New Rules

by Markie Morelli

  Things could have gone horrible wrong on so many levels it made Michael angry all over again just thinking about it. After waking from a nap in the hammock, his wife was nowhere to be found. He could see her canoe, but there appeared to be no occupant. He swiftly scanned the lake with his binoculars, looking for an orange lifejacket and came up empty.

  Frantic, he got out his kayak and paddled furiously toward the canoe, only to find his wife sleeping in the bottom, her lifejacket for a pillow and a near empty bottle of her favorite wine cradled in her arms. Seeing red, Michael towed her to shore, plucked her out and marched her to the cabin to the amusement of their neighbor, Mr. McGruder.

  It was too much. The weekend was supposed to be special, and it was if he counted the spectacular spanking he’d administered with his hand and her hairbrush.

  She’d apologized, of course, and tried to get out of it by reminding him he could not treat her as a child on an adult weekend. Michael didn’t buy it, not for a moment.

  He’d had more than twenty years of putting up with her bossy and controlling ways, but that ended three years ago when he pressured her into trying something new. It was called age-play, but there was nothing playful about it, at least not last night, he thought looking at his sore palm and opening and closing his hand. No, nothing playful at all.

  In fact, Michael took his role as her daddy very seriously indeed and had right from the start. After such a long time feeling as though he had no power in his own home, he relished making her mind him and taking her to task. She’d nearly demoralized him over the years and he was determined to save his marriage while at the same time finding the woman he’d loved so long ago.

  It had taken a while for that woman to make an appearance. Cheryl was nothing if not stubborn and opinionated, but with perseverance and her shaky consent, he managed to peel away the layers of defiance, spanking by spanking until she readily came into his arms for comforting after each session. Soon he began to wonder if she deliberately disobeyed him, trying to get him to take her over his knees. Most of the time those spankings ended with the most satisfying love-making they’d ever experienced. There was nothing so sexy as fucking a red hot bottom while your wife/little girl cried out in pleasure and pain, at least as far as he was concerned.

  Over time, he began to move things along, taking more control and monitoring her reaction. Soon he was taking her temperature daily, a chore that excited him tremendously as she’d never even let him see that area of her body, let alone touch it. Many times he’d suggested trying anal intercourse but she always turned her nose up, acting like he was the world’s biggest pervert.

  Still Michael could not help fantasizing about fucking his wife’s pretty little ass.

  What started out as a weekend pursuit soon became the weekend and a couple of days during the week. He took over most of her personal care, keeping her nether regions shaved, bathing her and doing far more around the house such as sharing the cooking and managing their finances. With each chore he took from her shoulders, she lightened up, the heavy mantle of responsibility falling gradually from her until she enjoyed wearing the pretty nightgowns he bought her along with the ruffled panties as she cuddled on his lap to watch TV.

  The transformation was remarkable. She let her hair grow longer, looked younger and seemed to be enjoying life instead of trying to micromanage it. With the boys gone off to college, they had so much more privacy. Michael turned one of the quest rooms into a special bedroom for her, complete with a pretty canopy bed, changing table and a specialized medical table that unlocked and pulled down from the wall much like a Murphy bed.

  He’d never been so grateful for his years of medical school before deciding to switch to law. His skill at examining her had them both feverish by the time he was finished and he continued to use his computer for research. Chéri’s screaming orgasms were a gift he treasured, and as long as she was a good girl, he was only too happy to supply them.

  It was only a couple of weeks ago that he decided he’d waited long enough to take his little girl’s ass. After administering two large suppositories, he spent a good part of the evening gently stretching her small bottom hole. Oh, she whined and complained as only Chéri could, but the outcome didn’t change. He’d fucked her reddened ass and still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to stay standing, the pleasure was so intense. It was something he planned to do on a much more frequent basis now that he knew she could take him and had admitted she’d liked it as well.

  That was the thing about Chéri. She fought against nearly everything he wanted to try, yet in the end, she could not hide her response or her pleasure. Her body told its own story. Each time he took her temperature, even when he used the larger tools, maybe especially when he used the large tools, she was always dripping wet. When he spanked her, occasionally quite harshly for particularly naughty behavior, she would cry her eyes out before surrendering to him, body and soul, so beautifully it moved him to tears.

  While he sincerely regretted the time they’d wasted and his abysmal lack of effort, he would be eternally grateful he’d finally found the balls to put his foot down and turn things around before it was too late. Their marriage was stronger than ever. She loved being his little girl and had admitted to him recently that she frequently wished she could quit her job at the huge advertising agency she worked for and be his baby all the time.

  Michael jumped on her suggestion like a fish on a fly. He was willing to take their relationship further—much further. If Chéri agreed, she could move from being his little girl to being his baby. She could give up her job and he would devote himself to taking care of her in every possible way.

  He’d continue to work, of course. As a judge he was at the top of his game and they weren’t in a position where he could retire early or go into private practice. No, he would have to continue working to provide for her, but they could get by without her income if they were careful with their investments. This weekend she was supposed to give him her decision by Sunday night. The way things unfolded, she’d given it last night and begged for his forgiveness for putting her life at risk.

  Michael had accepted both her decision and her apology, but he’d still roasted her ass. A remorseful Chéri informed him she wanted to go home first thing Sunday morning and her new life as his babygirl could begin as soon as they walked in the door of their home. He couldn’t pack fast enough. There was so much to do, so many plans to make and equipment to buy. He wanted to discuss plans for her nursery and show her some, but not all, of the things he already had waiting in various shopping carts online. It would not do to show her everything. There was no sense in her fretting needlessly, and it would be futile anyway. Some of the things he intended to purchase would have her chewing her nails, a habit he hated, and some would have her begging him not to buy them. It was, after all his choice. As her daddy, he would always do what he thought best and she would learn to like it, or not. While she’d had a safeword for the last three years, it would expire as soon as they entered their home this very day.

  Pouring a cup of coffee for her, he went into the bedroom to wake her up. It was time to get the show on the road, and frankly, he couldn’t wait.

  “Wake up and smell the coffee,” he said as he strode to the bed and gently patted her sore bottom. “You wanted to get an early start, remember? Come on, baby cakes, up and at ‘em.”

  Cheri opened her eyes and rolled over before she remembered the condition of her bottom. Yelping, she quickly turned on her side. Boy, he sure didn’t go easy on her last night, despite her pretty apology.

  “Morning, Daddy,” she murmured, rubbing her backside and trying to get her eyes to focus.

  Daddy looked fresh and well-rested. She, on the other hand, felt like death warmed over with her sore butt and her slight hangover that was still making her head hurt. Waving her hand in the general direction of the coffee he offered, she heard him snort.

  “No way, this is hot. Sit up,” he ordered cheerfully.
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  “I can’t sit,” she complained on a yawn.

  “You’d better learn,” he advised, setting the coffee on the night stand and putting his big hands under her arms. Easily, he lifted her to a sitting position with her back against the headboard, ignoring her squeal. “We have a long ride ahead of us and I don’t think you want to hang over the front seat. I’m still pissed about yesterday and I’m not sure presenting your naughty ass in such a way would be a good idea.”

  “Daddy,” she pouted, reaching for the coffee when he backed up and sat beside her on the bed. “You don’t hold a grudge, remember?”

  “It’s not a grudge,” he sighed. “I just can’t stop thinking that you could have drowned and I might have slept through it.”

  “But I didn’t,” she insisted.

  “But you could have. You were drunk, and in case you’re wondering, you’re not making any points with me,” he scolded, narrowing his dark eyes at her.

  “All right, I’ll shut up,” she said, taking a sip and sighing in delight. “May I at least have a pillow for the ride?”

  “Not in this lifetime,” he replied. “You should consider yourself lucky I don’t warm you up again before you get in the Jeep.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she gasped.

  “I could easily enough,” he countered. “Or, once I get you home, I could give my new babygirl a good cleansing enema to rid her of all those toxins,” he said thoughtfully.

  Chéri stared at him, trying to determine if he were teasing or trying to frighten her. It wasn’t clear. His face had dark, noticeable stubble, making him look slightly roguish. His eyes remained on hers until she blushed furiously and lowered her gaze to the bedcovers. Her Michael was no longer one to put up with any nonsense, and now that she’d given her permission for him to make her his baby, she’d sacrificed her safeword. Anything was possible.

  “Don’t be mean, Daddy,” she pleaded, reaching to run her fingers through the silver streaks at his temples. “I’m already nervous enough.”

  He relented and took her hand in his, kissing it as he bent his dark head. That small gesture did wonders for calming her fears.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll never do anything to you I don’t think you can handle. Now come on,” he continued, rising and pulling the covers from her. “I’m anxious to get home.”

  “I was until you mentioned that,” she replied with a shiver.

  Michael laughed as he walked from the room.

  “When it happens, and it will at some point, you’re going to love it,” he assured her, raising his eyebrows up and down evilly.

  Chéri snorted in disbelief and wondered for the hundredth time whether she’d done the right thing. There were so many major changes in her immediate future. There was her job to consider, although once she landed this last big ad campaign she could leave with a clear conscious. If, she landed it, she reminded herself. It wasn’t a done deal yet.

  Financially they would have to make cutbacks and she knew where most of those would come from. Her spending habits were not the best. Could she control herself? If a friend called and wanted to go shopping, she’d have to get Daddy’s permission. That in itself would be iffy. He often complained that she couldn’t save a dime if her life depended on it.

  It wasn’t true, of course. She could save a dime. It was the latest fashion trend she had trouble avoiding, or a new perfume and she really had a weakness for shoes. Well, she’d simply have to economize and remember it was her choice she’d given up her job and taken him up on his proposition. Most of the women she knew would give their eye teeth to be able to quit working and stay home. While she’d never discussed her and Michael’s private relationship with her friends, she had a feeling that having a man take care of all their needs, and she meant all of them, would make them green with envy, even if they would never admit it.

  Chéri realized their lifestyle wasn’t for everyone. At one time she would have laughed if anyone had told her that someday she would be content to give up control to her husband. Now that she was in it, she understood so much more about herself and her Daddy. It was amazing, and while she often cried and pleaded for him to stop whatever he was doing to her, at the same time a part of her was admiring his strength and determination, his skills at bringing her to the height of pleasure. He was adept at making the pain of discipline seem reasonable, desirable even as it cleared the slate and wiped away any grievances he had. In his arms, being cuddled and soothed was the best feeling in the world. Knowing he could take her anywhere, anytime he wanted was exciting, an aphrodisiac beyond compare. Chéri was literally always ready for him in one way or another and she loved every second of it.

  “Are you out of that bed yet, or do you need help?” he bellowed from the kitchen.

  “I’m up,” she squealed, jumping from the bed and rushing to the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

  “You have ten or I’m coming to help you,” he called back.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she sang out, savoring the shiver that raced through her even as she hurried.

  Chapter Two:

  The ride home took nearly three hours by the time they stopped for gas and more coffee. Chéri spent most of it wiggling on the seat, the occasional moan escaping. By the time they pulled into the garage, Michael took pity on her.

  Rounding the vehicle, he swept her up and into his arms as soon as she stepped onto the concrete floor and carried her into the house. He had his own motivations, one being her sore bottom and the other somewhat symbolic. She belonged to him in every way once they crossed that threshold. She no longer had a safeword, proving she trusted him to take care of her. It meant a great deal to him, even though she’d had one for the last three years and never used it.

  She giggled when he had to stoop to open the door to the kitchen and froze instantly once they stepped inside.

  “Did Mom twist her ankle or something?”

  “Yeah, what gives? Why are you carrying her?”

  “Brandon, Brett,” Michael said, keeping Chéri securely in his arms. “When did you boys get here? Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?” he asked.

  “We didn’t know,” Brett replied. “Brandon’s dating a flight attendant and he got us on a flight for free. We thought we’d surprise you guys.”

  “Well you certainly did that,” Chéri mumbled, looking around her kitchen.

  “Sorry about the mess,” Brett said. “We figured you were at the lake house when we couldn’t reach you on your cells, but we were already on our way. The reception up there sucks. Anyway, we thought we’d have until tonight to clean this up,” he continued, taking in the pizza boxes, soda cans and empty cookie packages strewn all over the kitchen.

  “So are you hurt or something?” Brandon asked again.

  “No, put me down,” she snapped at her husband. “I need to clean this mess up.

  Michael ignored her.

  “It’s a shame we didn’t know you were coming. We would have waited for you and you could have come with us. When did you get in, Friday night?”

  “Yeah, late Friday and we have to leave tonight. Chad is picking us up at 6:00.”

  Chéri stiffened in his arms. He could almost feel her body vibrating with anger. Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear. “This is not your problem, babygirl. It’s mine and I’ll deal with it.”

  It took a few moments for the truth of his words to sink in and he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her body relax. Carefully, he set her down on the floor.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nice long bath,” he suggested. “I’ll make brunch while the boys clean this mess up.” He watched her walk across the kitchen and give each of her sons a hug before heading upstairs, all without saying a word.

  “Boy, smooth move, Dad,” Brandon acknowledged. “I thought she was going to lose it for a while there. You know there are species that eat their young,” he quipped.

  “Don’t be an ass,”
Michael warned, picking up empty cans and taking them to the sink. “You didn’t have to trash the place. You do know it’s possible to eat and not make a gigantic mess, right?”

  “I know, sorry, Dad. We didn’t worry about it last night because we figured you guys wouldn’t be home till late tonight. Why were you carrying Mom anyway?” Brett asked as he grabbed a garbage bag and stuffed the pizza boxes into it.

  “None of your business,” Michael replied.

  Suddenly Chéri was back at the doorway.

  “You did say he, right?” she asked softly.

  They all faced her, but Brett spoke.

  “Yes, Mom, Brandon is gay. Is that a problem?” he asked nervously.

  “No. I think we all should be free to choose our own lifestyle,” she replied thoughtfully. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Will we get to meet him?”

  “Yes, when he picks us up. I hope you’re going to be sociable.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she murmured, walking slowly away. “After the last three years, nothing would surprise me.”

  “What’s she talking about, Dad?” Brett asked as he continued cleaning up. “Something’s up with her. Are you drugging her or something,” he teased, “turning her into a Stepford wife? She seems pretty mellow, for Mom anyway.”

  “No drugs, just kindness and love,” Michael replied. “You boys could be a little more tolerant.”

  “Dad, she terrorized us as teenagers. Tolerant wasn’t even in her dictionary,” he snorted.

  “I know, but that was then and this is now. We all have to be a little more accepting of each other. Your mother is going to quit her job and stay home,” he added.

  Both boys froze and looked at each other.

  “She’s not sick, is she?” Brandon asked worriedly.

  “No, she’s never been better. It’s just time for a change, that’s all. For years she carried all the responsibility around here and while none of us appreciated her methods, she did a damn good job of it. We have a lovely home and both of you got into good colleges, probably due to her riding your asses about your homework and making you study for your SATs. That alone ought to be worth a little respect,” Michael continued while thawing frozen pastry in the microwave. “Spinach quiche all right with you two?” he asked, looking up.