Her Old-Fashioned Husband

by Laylah Roberts

  Roarke narrowed his gaze at her.

  “You know what? Maybe Tom’s not the problem here. Maybe it’s you. You’re so busy blaming yourself for what wasn’t your fault that you’ve pushed away everyone who needed you, who loves you. Did you ever think about your family’s pain, obviously they didn’t just lose one son, but two.”

  Frankie cursed herself as soon as she said it, God who was she to tell this man how to run his life? She didn’t even have control over her own most times.

  “I’m not the only one who blames me, Frankie. Your husband hates my guts for what I did.”

  The door to the office creaked open. Brax hadn’t shut it properly.

  “I don’t just blame you, I blame myself as well. It was just easier to be angry at you,” Tom said quietly as he walked into the office. His gaze hit Frankie, running over her body as though to make sure she was all right.

  “Brax called you, huh?” she asked weakly.

  He nodded. “I was on my way home. My shift ended early.” He volunteered his services at the hospital here a couple of times a month.

  “I’m sorry for disobeying you,” she said quickly, hoping her immediate apology would ease the anger in his eyes.

  “We’ll get to that later,” he promised ominously. He held out his hand to her. “Let’s go.”

  Frankie rose, feeling defeat pound at her. She hadn’t fixed anything; in fact she’d possibly made things worse. Plus, she was going to get her ass spanked, and all for nothing.

  “Thank you,” Sam whispered as he stood and gave her a hug. “I’ve been trying to get him to talk about this for years.”

  “I think I made things worse,” she whispered back.

  “Chin up, sweetheart.” He let her go and gave her a gentle smile. He morphed from gorgeous to breathtakingly stunning. She shook her head to clear it before walking over to take Tom’s hand. Tom turned to leave.

  “Tom,” Roarke called out. “Wait. Please.”

  Tom stilled and looked over his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got him killed,” Roarke told him, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry I had to have the plug pulled.”

  Frankie took a deep breath. Dear God, Roarke had to make the decision to end Austin’s life? She couldn’t even imagine how hard that must have been. Tom stared at the far wall.

  “I loved him,” Tom finally said. “He was all I had. And I blamed you for taking him from me. Without Austin, I had nothing, no family, well, except for Brax and his family.” Frankie squeezed his hand. She knew Tom’s parents had never been there for him.

  “Bullshit,” Roarke said. “You were always part of our family, from the day Austin brought you home.”

  Tom took a deep breath and tugged her into his chest before turning to face Roarke. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past few weeks, about why I’m so angry with you. Why I feel this hatred towards you. And I realized it was because blaming you was easier than dealing with my own guilt. You gave me a convenient target to aim my anger at, instead of focusing it on myself, where it really belonged.”

  Tom paused and Frankie patted his arm, trying to lend him her strength. “I’d already argued with Austin before you got there. I told him that the clubs weren’t for me, that I wanted something more. I didn’t want to play. I enjoyed the discipline aspect, but not the rest. He was furious with me. I was surprised by his reaction, I hadn’t really expected it. I mean, most of the time, I just watched at the club. I only went there because he asked me too. I don’t know why he was so angry, but he was. Then you came along to talk to him about Lou-Lou and it pushed him over the edge. Then he was gone. I didn’t deal with any of it well and over the years my anger has faded, but my guilt has grown. When I learned you’d spoken to Frankie I overreacted. Badly. I’m sorry, Roarke.”

  Frankie stared at Sam with wide eyes, seeing the shock on his own face. This night had taken a turn she hadn’t expected. She’d thought it would take months of work to get both men to the point they were at right now.

  “He thought he would lose you, that’s why he was so angry,” Roarke said quietly. “You weren’t to blame for his death, Tom. I guess neither of us were. The guy drinking and driving was the one who killed him.”

  It was a break through, she thought. Even though the tension was still there at least they’d admitted that Austin’s death, while tragic and unnecessary was not their fault.

  Tom nodded and Frankie felt the tension in his lessen. “If you’ll excuse us, I have to get my wife home, then she and I are going to have a long talk about obedience.”

  Damn. Frankie gulped.

  Tom turned away again.

  “Would you like to come over for dinner?” Frankie blurted out, surprising herself. Everyone stilled, looking at her. She flushed. “Maybe next Sunday night, around seven. Both of you, of course.” She looked around Tom to Sam who smiled.

  Roarke looked at Tom. Frankie held her breath.

  “Yes, please do,” Tom said stiffly.

  Roarke nodded. “We’d like that.”

  “And by that time, Frankie might actually be able to sit comfortably.”

  Frankie gulped. Oh shit.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Upstairs,” Tom ordered as soon as they walked into their house. “Strip and lie naked on your back on the bed. I want you to hold your legs up against your chest.”

  Frankie blushed at the vivid image.

  “Tom,” she protested.

  “Now,” he barked.

  Unused to hearing that level of anger in his voice, she fled, racing upstairs. Oh God, what had she done? Sure, she’d had only the best intentions, but she’d disobeyed Tom and now he was furious with her.

  Stripping, Frankie lay on her back as ordered then pulled her legs up to her chest, clasping her hands under her knees to hold them there. This position was so humiliating.

  Tom walked into the room, rolling back the arms of his shirt. “Leg’s wider apart,” he ordered.

  “Tom, shouldn’t we talk about this?” she asked.

  “I think you’ve talked enough for one night, don’t you, Frankie?” he asked as he moved to the wardrobe and pulled out the box that held his instruments of torture. Oh shit, what was she in for, tonight?

  “But I only had the best intentions, and it worked, didn’t it? You and Roarke are talking.” No matter what punishment he gave her, it was worth it to have the two of them speaking again.

  “I know you had good intentions, Frankie,” Tom said calmly, staring down at her. “But you disobeyed me and once again put yourself in danger. You had no business going to a BDSM club by yourself. You have no idea of the protocols, what if you’d found yourself in a situation you couldn’t get out of? Not to mention you lied to me, and yet again impulsively just ran off without letting me know where you were.”

  “I left a note,” she told him quickly. “In case you got back first. It’s by the phone.”

  He stared down at her and nodded. “That’s good. It doesn’t excuse your actions, though. Anything could have happened to you there without me to protect you, not to mention I told you not to speak to Roarke again and yet you deliberately sought him out.”

  “You were being pigheaded. And besides, it all worked out for the better. The two of you needed to speak to each other properly. I’d say overall it was quite a successful night, wouldn’t you.”

  He smacked his hand down on her bare butt. Frankie bit back a shocked gasp.

  “It was my business, Frankie. You had no right to interfere. What if I’d warned you away because Roarke was dangerous?”

  “But he’s not,” she protested. “I was never in any danger, Tom. It was newbie night. I did some research before I went along. Of course, I didn’t expect Brax to be there.”

  Tom raised his brows. “And that’s someone else you owe an apology to, Frankie. You gave Brax the shock of his life, and then when he tried to remove you from a situation you had no business being in, you sassed him an
d gave him trouble.”

  “Can I lower my legs?” she asked, her arms starting to tire. He nodded. “Brax was being an ass. He’s got double standards. It’s all right for him to be interested in that stuff, but not me.”

  Tom stared down at her. “So you liked what you saw in there?”

  Truthfully, she hadn’t seen much. But she had to say, she wasn’t all that thrilled by the idea of putting herself out on display for others to see. However, she did love when Tom took control in the bedroom.

  She shook her head. “No, not really. I don’t like the idea of everyone looking at me and some of that equipment just looked terrifying. But I, well, I do like when you take control sometimes. Especially in the bedroom.”

  Tom raised his brows. “My taking control means you get punished for disobeying, Frankie. You still want that?”

  She took a deep breath, shocked he would even ask. “Of course I do. I love our life. I like having you take the lead role in our relationship, I, well, I need it. Having you take care of me makes me feel all warm inside.”

  “Even though you end up with a red butt?” he asked.

  “Yes, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  He sat next to her. “Neither would I. Well, I wish you’d think things through more, but that’s a work in progress.”

  Leaning down, he kissed her before sitting up, his gaze hardening slightly. “None of this changes the fact that you disobeyed me, young lady.”

  Frankie bit her lip. “I know. I deserve to be punished.” She knew this was where she’d end up when she’d gone to see Roarke tonight.

  “Yes, you do. Legs back up to your chest,” he ordered her.

  Gulping, Frankie did as he ordered. Tom rose and reached into the box, pulling out some lube and a butt plug.

  Oh no.

  Frankie’s gaze was riveted on the plug as he slathered it in lube. Then without a word, he kneeled at the end of the bed and parted her butt cheeks.

  “Take a deep breath, Frankie. You know the drill, when I push this inside you, you need to exhale and push out. On three. One, two, three.”

  Frankie whimpered as he pushed the thick plug inside her. It burned, stretching her tight muscles and she immediately wanted to expel it.

  “Keep it there, Frankie. If it comes out, I’ll make you take an even bigger one and make you hold it all night,” Tom warned.

  Frankie screwed her eyes up tight. “It hurts,” she moaned.

  “No, it doesn’t, it just feels weird and it’s embarrassing. Get used to it. You’ll be wearing it often over the next week.”

  She cried out at that announcement then gasped as his hand landed heavily on her butt. Tom started spanking her as she lay there, her legs against her chest, her pussy and ass on display, a butt plug firmly pressed inside her asshole.

  His hand never faltered as he smacked it down on her bottom until it was stinging furiously.

  “Please, no more,” she begged. “Tom,” she cried. “Please.”

  “Oh honey,” he said with sympathy. “It’s far too early in the night for you to be begging.” He landed a few more heavy smacks. “Roll over. I want you on your hands and knees, legs wide.”

  With a sob, she carefully rolled over, not wanting to lose the plug inside her.

  Tom looked down at his wife and fought back his anger. When he’d gotten the call from Brax telling him that she was at Decadence, he’d been instantly filled with terror. She had no business at a BDSM club, certainly not without him. It wasn’t a place for Frankie. He’d entered into the lifestyle more because Austin and Roarke were into it. He liked to be in control and he firmly believed that domestic discipline helped keep their marriage healthy and happy. But that was as far as it went. He had no interest in ever going to a BDSM club again and had no intentions of ever taking Frankie to one.

  Then she’d gone by herself. He shuddered to think what might have happened to her. Any dominant worth his salt would have snapped her up in an instant. She was gorgeous, fiery and with a definite submissive streak. Someone else might try to break her spirit, to force her to be totally obedient. Not Tom, he liked her fire, her sassiness. As long as she didn’t put her safety in jeopardy or outright disrespect or disobey him.

  She’d done all three tonight. Even if she didn’t seem to realize it, she was in real trouble.

  “Lean down, rest your chest on the bed. This isn’t going to be over quickly, I want you comfortable.”

  She snorted. “I hardly think I’m going to be all that comfortable.

  He smiled a little in acknowledgment. “Your butt certainly won’t be. You disobeyed me, Frankie. You didn’t show respect to me and honor the fact that I asked you to stay out of this.”

  “Asked?” she protested. “You didn’t ask, you ordered me.”

  “Hush, little girl. Now is the time for you to be quiet and try to soothe me, not rile me up more.”

  She settled down and he continued. “And you put yourself in danger. I don’t want to keep repeating myself, Frankie. I want you to learn that when I tell you to do or not do something that I am serious and that I do not take your safety lightly. This is going to be hard, Frankie, because I can’t have you continuously risking yourself. Do you understand? I do this because I love you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. I want you to stay very still. I’m going to give you twenty strokes of my belt, twenty with the paddle then I’ll finish with five of the cane.”

  Frankie gasped. “Please, Tom, no,” she begged. She hated the cane, had only experienced it once before and she’d sworn to herself that she’d never risk having him use it on her again.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I don’t like punishing you so hard, but this has to stop. You have to start taking greater care with your safety. Now, remember, I expect you to stay still otherwise I’ll have to tie you down.”

  Frankie cried out as the belt slapped down on her already stinging buttocks. Tom swung it steadily, without respite, no matter how much she cried and begged for him to stop.

  By the time he’d counted out twenty, she was sobbing, her buttocks on fire as she swayed back and forth, trying to find some relief, somehow.

  “Please, Tom, I can’t take it. Please,” she begged.

  “You should have thought about that before deliberately disobeying me, Frankie,” Tom said firmly. “That is unacceptable. These next twenty are for the disrespect you’ve shown me and your brother.”

  The paddle landed with a loud smack! Frankie yelled out, the pain excruciating. Tom slapped down over and over, on her butt cheeks, her thighs. Frankie sobbed into the bedspread until it was soaking wet beneath her.

  “Please, please,” she said hoarsely.

  “You’re doing so well, baby. That’s twenty now. Good girl,” Tom soothed her, running his hand over her back as she cried.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over.

  “I know, baby. Almost over. These last five with the cane are for putting yourself in danger. I know you don’t think you were, but you’re such an innocent, sweetheart, you have no idea of your appeal. Do you know that the night Roarke took you home; a man had followed you outside? Who knows what he would have done to you if Roarke hadn’t interfered. You must pay more attention to your own safety. I want you to count these out for me, baby, then thank me and ask for another.”

  Crying, she screamed as the cane slashed down, leaving a strip of burning, overwhelming pain on her already swollen, hot buttocks.

  “O-one, sir. Thank you. M-may I have another.”

  By the time five came around, she could barely get the words out through her tears.

  Tom instantly lay on the bed, gathering her close and rocking her as she cried.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice nearly gone.

  “Shh, baby. All is forgiven. Just let me hold you. Let me hold you close and know that I love you more than words.”

  “Ditto,” she replied.

  Epil
ogue

  Three weeks later...

  Frankie frantically moved around the kitchen, cooking up a storm. Sam and Roarke were coming for dinner tonight and she wanted things to be perfect. This was their second dinner with the two men. In the end they’d decided to go out for dinner the first time. Neutral territory. For a start things had been stilted and awkward, but gradually Tom and Roarke had begun talking and things were slowly getting better.

  Now she was cooking for everyone and needed for it to be perfect.

  “Frankie, calm down,” Tom said quietly as she ran over to the oven.

  She’d forgotten about her bread!

  “Damn,” she swore as she pulled out the clearly burned loaves. “They’re ruined.”

  “Language,” Tom cautioned her, glowering. But she had no time to pay attention to the warning. Instead of reaching for an oven mitt, she used the towel in her hand to pick up the tray. The thin towel gave little protection against the hot tray and she yelped as she burned her hand.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she cried, tears filling her eyes. Nothing was working out. This was going to be a disaster.

  “Here, let me see,” Tom said calmly as he moved up beside her. He pulled her over to the sink and turned on the cold water and stuck her hand underneath it. “Leave it there,” he said warningly as she went to close the oven door.

  “I don’t have time. I have to make more bread.”

  “I will go to the store and buy some bread,” he said calmly.

  “Bought bread!” she squealed. “You can’t serve them bought bread.”

  “Why not?” he said incredulously. “It’s what we eat every day. Frankie, I want you to calm down right now. You’ve sworn twice in the last couple of minutes. I’m being lenient with you, right now. But you’re working yourself up into a state and if you don’t settle yourself down, I’m going to have to do it for you.”

  “I don’t have time to calm down. I’m cooking dinner. And it’s a mess,” she wailed.