“Yes. Of course, I do!” she said without pause, which pleased him greatly.
“Then why the hesitation?”
She bit her lip, a habit she had when she was lost in thought, but only in private. He’d never seen it any other time and it showed him how truly vulnerable she was feeling, but also that she felt comfortable enough to let down her guard with him and show her real emotions. Part of his theory was that not showing emotion for a big portion of her day had her bottling it up inside, which was a big part of her problem. As it went on, unchecked, it had started to bleed over into her private life. Sure, she laughed, smiled and showed moderate emotions, but extremes like euphoria and sadness, when appropriate, were few and far between. She hadn’t cried at her father’s funeral, standing stoically by her mother instead. The Ice Queen, firmly in control. Unfortunately, cynicism and biting sarcasm weren’t included in the emotions she kept buried, damn his luck. However, he could deal with that with this new method as well.
“Okay, I’m yours for an hour,” she agreed with a definitive nod. “What are we going to do, a jigsaw puzzle or play one of your video games?”
Both were mindless activities he used to manage stress, that and physical exercise, which included sex with his gorgeous wife. But lately, because of her stress, their sex life had suffered. That was about to change. He sat on the cedar chest at the end of the bed and issued his first directive.
“It’s nine o’clock. The hour has begun.” Pointing to the floor in front of him, he ordered, “Stand here, Lanie.”
Hesitantly, she took a half-step, pausing at least a foot short of where she should be.
“Now.”
He purposefully made his voice low and commanding, and as he hoped, she responded. She moved until she stood between his feet. Not close enough for his liking, his hands rose to her hips and pulled her in between his spread thighs. When her fingers automatically rose to his head, gliding into his hair, he looked at her sharply. “Did I tell you to move?”
“Uh, no—”
“No, sir.” He instructed and watched as her eyes widened in surprise. Sex for them had always been playful, but in a spur-of-the-moment, unstructured kind of way. Never planned or negotiated, their roles were loosely defined. The only distinction was Ethan always took the lead, acting as the dominant partner instinctively, something to which Lanie had always responded. He’d noticed early on that she liked when he ordered, instead of asked, in the heat of passion. The times he’d pinned her hands beside her head or gotten a bit rough, she’d gone wild. Tonight, he was going to explore that further, taking it to the next level in order to gauge her reaction. If his assumption was correct, she would respond to his firm commands and stronger control, and it would give her the freedom to release her pent up emotions. He knew she needed it, although she refused to admit it.
“Answer me, Lanie.”
“Yes—sir.”
“Good girl.” He gave her ass a firm squeeze of approval, lips twitching slightly when she gasped in surprise. “I’m in charge for the next,”—he glanced at the clock—”fifty-eight minutes, no matter what. The only way you can stop what is happening is by using a safe word.”
Her brows rose at least an inch as her lips curved into a sly grin. “A safe word, how kinky, Ethan. That should make me de-stress fo-sho!”
“Yeah? What do you know about safe words?”
“I read Fifty Shades along with forty-five million other Americans, Ethan.”
“Is that so? What else did you learn?”
“That kinky sex can be hot. Beth and I are psyched for the movie.”
“That was fiction, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“I prefer non-fiction, Lanie. Remove your clothes and we’ll get started.”
Her smile faded a fraction at his order. Tilting her head, she gazed at him reflectively for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders and let the robe slide down her arms and onto the floor. To keep himself in check, he gripped his thighs, his fingers digging into his skin. The pain helped to curb the itch in his hands, and the overpowering need to touch her.
“All of it. I want you naked.”
Her hands rose to the thin straps of her gown and slipped them off her shoulders. It dipped down, his eyes following as it snagged on the hard peaks of her nipples. She squeaked in alarm and quickly tugged the material free baring her breasts to his gaze. She was perfect. Ethan loved the way she filled his hands to overflowing, the large tips pink and beautifully responsive. As the satin slid over her body, catching again at her hips, he stared at all that creamy skin inches away, his for the taking. With a great deal of control he resisted the driving urge to take her into his mouth as he wanted.
Pulling his eyes away from pure temptation wasn’t easy, but he did and watched the gown instead. She gave a little wiggle and the slippery material gave way, sliding over her hips, falling in a soft pool of silk and lace around her feet. Ethan’s eyes followed the gown’s path in reverse, skimming back up her shapely calves and smooth thighs, grazing but not lingering on the smooth tempting cleft in between and continuing along the tempting curves of her hips and her flat abdomen until they settled on her breasts once again. Hanging on by a thread, he stifled a groan as he leaned in and pressed his lips into the valley between them.
“I love you, baby, and I can’t bear to see you stressed out all the time. You hardly sleep and when you do, it’s broken. I hear you get up at night to review your notes or pour over your research.”
“I’m sorry. I try not to wake you.”
His hands slid around to her ass and squeezed. “That’s not my point. I’m worried about you. The stress is obviously affecting you and wearing on your body. You’ve lost weight; we can’t have that, because I love these curves.” He gave each cheek another squeeze before moving on to cup her breasts, his thumbs grazing her nipples. “The stress also makes you irritable and short tempered, which is unlike the Lanie that I know and love. For example, tonight you were snappish, foul-mouthed, and sharp with sarcasm. It’s hurtful and I won’t have that either.” Angling his head backward, he peered up at her soberly. “Do you understand?”
Her hand rose to his cheek. He allowed it as once again, tears threatened. She quickly blinked them away and he was oddly disappointed. Still, her words attested to her remorse and sincerity. “I never meant to hurt you, Ethan. I love you. You’re the only one I can talk to about these things. What can I do to make it up to you? I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Prophetic words, to be sure,” he murmured, and watched her brow furrow in confusion. “Do we have a deal? You’re mine for an hour?”
“I’m always yours, Ethan. But yes, we have a deal.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, waiting to see if she would remember her first lesson.
“We have a deal, sir.” Her voice was softly submissive. Now they were getting somewhere.
“Come onto my lap, Lanie.”
She started to bend to sit on his thigh, but he shook his head. “Maybe I wasn’t clear,” he stated, clarifying his intent with action, as he guided her face down across his thighs.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you in position for your spanking.”
She stiffened. “My what? Ethan, wait!”
He landed a swat, quick and sharp, right in the middle of her round bottom. “Lanie, you agreed. I’m in charge now. I’ll hear your safe word or nothing else.”
Chapter Three
Unable to believe he actually meant to spank her, she froze in place, the air trapped in her lungs as she lay bare assed and vulnerable over his thighs. Once or twice, in the heat of the moment, he’d given her a swat or two, but this was different. For one, it was real, and two; it stung really badly. His hand returned and instead of another swat, he gently rubbed where he’d spanked. The sting from his hard palm quickly subsided, changing to a tingling warmth that spread across her skin. After a moment, his hand extended its caress, his fingertips trailin
g over her curves in widening circles, brushing close to her center, smoothing down her thighs, his nails scratching her lightly in sensitive spots. When he at last touched her pussy, a shiver rushed through her body and she relaxed into the intoxicating blend of sensations.
“You’re drenched,” he commented, stating the obvious. Lanie had been wet since he’d called her ‘good girl.’ Those simple words had sent a blast of heat and moisture to her pussy. Then he’d ordered her over his lap and the rush of arousal inundating her system had robbed her of the ability to think. It left her mindlessly obeying her libido, the center of which lay between her already damp thighs, making her willing to do almost anything he asked. Ethan never failed to turn her on. It was always this way, even after all the years they’d been together. But tonight, it had increased exponentially.
Two swats followed his words, one on each cheek, both as stinging as the first. The rubbing came again soon after. She wiggled and squirmed as he maintained a firm hold on her waist. When his fingers slipped between her thighs, gliding along her wet folds and finding her clit, she froze for a moment before wantonly spreading her thighs in a wordless plea for more. She couldn’t remain silent as pure, unadulterated lust swamped her senses and unbidden, a moan escaped her lips.
“That’s my girl. You want me to take control, don’t you?”
Mindless with arousal so intense she couldn’t speak, she only managed to produce a whimper in answer. He lingered another minute, plunging into her dripping channel and fucking her slowly with two fingers.
“You’re absolutely beautiful, Lanie, and I can think of nothing I want more than to drive into this drenched pussy.” He emphasized his words by gliding in deeper. “I plan to do just that, but we need to finish what we’ve started here. I’m giving you a dozen spanks this first time, for the sass and the cursing.”
Biting back a groan, she canted her hips and spread wider for him. It was too much, obliterating her tenuous control as the rising pressure threatened to burst free.
“Ethan… sir, I’m gonna come.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, he pulled his fingers free.
“No,” she cried, “please, don’t stop. I’m so close.” Her breath came out in little pants and her skin beaded with perspiration. “Please,” she begged.
“Not yet, Lanie. You’re being punished. You can come after your spanking, when I’m deep inside you, not before.”
A flurry of swats rained down, a touch harder, as he alternated from one cheek to the other. Although it stung, it was also arousing. The warmth he was building on her behind was spreading to other places nearby, making them tingle, the force of each swat nudging her forward until the front of her pussy bumped against his hard thigh, and the pressure ignited a burning fire inside. It felt good—so damn good—that she came involuntarily. Groaning, she writhed over his lap as her clit pulsed, her empty pussy tightening in rhythmic contractions. Her mind reeled, having a hard time believing, even as it happened, that an orgasm from a spanking was possible.
When her cries of pleasure subsided into shaky, stuttering gasps, Ethan flipped her upright and cradled her in his lap. As he wrapped her up tight, he rocked her gently, while she tried in vain to contain her tears. From somewhere long hidden, they rose unbidden to the surface. She cried, not from pain, but from weeks, no months of repressed emotion.
“That’s it, baby. Let it out. I’m here for you—always.”
Loud racking sobs came next as she burrowed into his chest, letting go of all of the tension and stress she’d bottled up. She had no idea how long she carried on, weeping ceaselessly against him, but his shirt was soaked through to the skin by the time she regained some semblance of calm. She also became aware, that without her noticing, he had moved them to bed, where they now lay side by side. Lanie snuggled against him, her face buried in his neck, her head pillowed on his bicep as he stroked her hair gently.
“How did you know?” came her muffled question.
“I didn’t. It was an educated guess.”
“But weren’t you worried I’d get mad and storm out, or at the very least haul off and slug you?”
“That was a risk I was willing to take.” In an effortless motion, he rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him, aligning their bodies.
She propped her forearms on his broad chest and gazed down at the man she loved. Married for three years, they had dated for several before that and it seemed like they’d known each other forever. At forty-one, her handsome husband was older by six years, he was smart, confident and like her, also a lawyer. A renowned trial lawyer to be precise, but after years of private practice, he was now a professor at the prestigious Boston College Law School. He taught legal ethics—an oxymoron if she’d ever heard one—and upper level seminars on law and justice. He didn’t look like any professor, she’d ever had. Tall, well-built and sexy as hell, he was drooled over by many of his eager young law students. Over the years, a few of the more aggressive young women had propositioned him. He’d turned them down firmly, telling Lanie about every incident, because ever since they’d met, he’d had eyes only for her.
In the aftermath of a spanking and a torrent of tears, she stared into his intense gaze and wondered what he must think. Feeling unusually shy and more than a little embarrassed, she quickly looked away.
“Aw, baby, don’t go there. What happens between us in our bedroom, in our kitchen, garage or backyard for that matter is nothing to be self-conscious about.” He pulled her up his chest, his strong arms maneuvering her easily until their mouths were nearly touching. He kissed her gently. “I actually did some research and discussed my theory with a colleague.”
Her eyes flew wide and her head reared back so she could see his face. “You talked to someone at the college about spanking me? Ethan, I’ll die.”
“No, I spoke with one of the psychologists about your driving need for control. Well, not you specifically, but if he suspects, he is very discrete. He said Type A personalities such as yours need a physical outlet for their energy and suppressed emotions or they tend to explode. Sometime that explosion comes in the form of venting their pent up frustration on those unfortunate people around them, at work, on the street in a fit of road rage, or getting nasty with their family or spouse. If that doesn’t occur, it manifests most often in health problems: hypertension, heart attack, stroke to name a few. We talked about the more mainstream outlets, which you have tried unsuccessfully, and came upon one that you haven’t tried.”
Although still unnerved that someone he worked with would know intimate details about her, and their relationship, she was curious about this mysterious new method and blurted out, “What haven’t I tried?”
“Sex.” Her brows arched high in surprise before he continued. “Not merely missionary sex either. He said it needs to be fiery enough to get you so worked up that you scream, yell or cry with your release.”
“I’m all for that, but what just happened was really sex, sir.”
“True. I threw in the dominance and submission to get you to cry out your release another way. Quite effective wouldn’t you say? Although it seems we will have to work on following the rules. You came before I said you could.”
A grunted Hmph was her noncommittal response. What could she say? He’d made her do all those things—screaming, crying and begging—with a spanking. Her imagination immediately jumped at the possibilities of what he could do to her if he actually touched her more intimately, or, quite frankly, if he simply got around to taking off his clothes. His idea had merit. Okay, that was an understatement. It was intriguing to the point of titillation. She didn’t protest and lay quietly in his arms, eager to hear more.
His hands slid over her bottom and she tensed, expecting discomfort as he rubbed, but he was gentle. It felt so good to have his big hands on her, massaging away the negligible ache while evoking another more heated response a bit lower.
“Although he stopped short of making actual treatment recommenda
tions for a patient, sight unseen, he did say he’s had success with this approach with others for the same underlying problem.”
“What problem is that exactly? Being a control freak?
“I don’t like that term; it’s over critical. I would say perfectionistic qualities and the need to overcome vulnerabilities through strict regulation of surrounding events.”
Spoken like the BC Law professor he was. Lanie barely contained a snort of laughter. “That’s what I said, Ethan. Control freak, I was just more succinct.”
“Lanie, mind the sass.”
“Sorry. So what specifically did this psychologist, who now knows you have a control fr—uh, rather, a perfectionist for a wife, recommend that I do?”
“Role-play.”
She stared at him a moment, then drawled, “O-kay… How exactly is that going to help?”
“I will dominate and you will submit, sexually that is. I’ll take control and you will practice letting go. In theory, once you learn that your world isn’t going to come crashing down around you if you don’t micromanage every aspect of your life, you will learn to trust, relinquish control, which includes delegating duties at work, and eventually relax.”
“In theory?”
“Yes, he warned it might take a considerable amount of practice, until we get it right. But I think we can do it together, if we put some extra effort into it, go the extra mile, and persevere.” The wolfish grin he gave her turned into a leer. When he waggled his eyebrows, however, she lost it and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.
“Seriously, Lanie. I’d like to give this a try. By playing a character, you can take on a completely different persona. Like this evening, for instance, you took on the role of a naughty wife who was in need of a sound spanking. I took control, which gave you the freedom to surrender in a completely safe, non-threatening situation.”
“How is a spanking non-threatening? It hurt.”
“Babe, you loved it. You came harder than you have in months with only my hand on your ass and a little stimulation from my fingers in your—”
Lanie's Lessons Page 2