"Oh, my god," Melanie suddenly gasped, and her body tensed, moving against his fingers that had reached around to toy with her clitoris.
He thrust harder still against her, his cry of finality surrounding her with its wild exuberant song.
Then, almost weak from the climax, they tumbled into the chair, a pouf of dust from the old piece rising into the ray of sunlight that made their sweating bodies gleam.
In time, Tony was awake enough to lick Melanie's ear.
"You want to get me started again," she whispered softly.
"Why not?" he asked.
"I thought you were busy," she reminded him.
"I am, with you," he said.
She didn't argue. They took a little more pleasure from each other before Tony finally stood up.
"I fixed you lunch, just came up to tell you," he said. She was a divine mess, he could start all over again, but he wouldn't this time.
"Is it turkey or ham?" she asked.
He looked at her puzzled. "Roast beef," he said, "from last night."
"Ah!" she said.
He couldn't figure why she was smiling so.
"A private joke," she explained, "I'll tell you at lunch. Be down in a few."
Tony smiled, self satisfied, and walked out.
Chapter Nine
"So Melanie, what do you think now," Tony asked. It was two weeks since their last spanking foray, two weeks of busy activity on the house, and two weeks of almost marital bliss.
"Quiet," Melanie replied. "No hammers, no buzz saws."
"Is that all?' Tony was proud of the work that had been done, the restoration complete. It worked out easily with Melanie's cooperation. For a change, Tony was able to keep his wife from becoming consumed by the project. Just a few threats of a turn over his lap had seemed to keep the peace. Now that the last of the workmen was finally gone, Aunt Daisy's house was looking like a sparkling jewel, set high on its own hill.
"I can't really say anymore," Melanie said looking up at the attic windows, to the very top of the magnificent structure.
"Well, it's time to celebrate," Tony announced. "We'll have champagne in the gazebo. How about that?"
"Okay," Melanie answered, though the comment was hardly enthusiastic. Her look was faraway, her eyes uncommonly vacant.
"Mel, perhaps we should talk," he suggested.
"About what?" she said indifferently.
"About you, right now, this strange mood you're in."
"I'm not in a strange mood," she answered. "Maybe I'm just overwhelmed."
Tony watched his puzzling wife as she went inside the house, still looking very odd. He shook his head in wonder, trying to figure what was going on in her mind.
Melanie opened the door of the attic, immediately smelling the sweet musty smell of old things. It pulled her back in time once again; she was instantly drifting off as she could so easily do each time she entered this inner sanctum.
Since making love to Tony in the middle of their hideaway, Melanie hadn't been upstairs to her treasured place. It almost seemed that afternoon with her husband had violated the peace that was always present here, damaging the memories. And yet, the sex had been so captivating, she could hardly get the interlude out of her mind. Twice since, she'd awakened in the early morning, to pull her husband from a sound sleep so she could make love to him with that memorable day in mind.
Instead of going to the trunk that held the journal, this time Melanie took a long lingering glance around the room, the lovely corner with her chair, the boxes, trunks and the old wardrobe at the other end of the large room.
Venturing toward the wardrobe, Melanie opened the heavy rosewood doors, to view the dresses inside. Many were lovely prints from Daisy's youth; but many were just old ladies well dated suits and dresses smelling of lilac and age.
From one back corner, Melanie pulled out a dress that was liberally splashed with blue flowers, and tiny pink roses. She held it up to her in the mirror, wondering what it might have been like wearing this dress, what the times might have been for her, if she'd lived in her Aunt's romantic day.
The journal in the trunk seemed to be beckoning her to it, as if it had an answer for her; but she'd been reluctant to make that journey again. She was almost finished with those finely written pages, and was now afraid to open it again, thinking that some disaster must certainly be chronicled in the final chapter.
Quickly pushing the dress back into the wardrobe, Melanie, closed the door and left the attic without daring to climb inside her Aunt's world again.
***
Three days later Melanie was still in a blue funk. If completing the house was suppose to be cause to rejoice, Melanie certainly didn't show it. In fact, she was being more miserable and depressed as the days wore on, much to Tony's consternation. He gave her space, since she was not inclined to talk about the problem with him, though her glum demeanor was beginning to get on his nerves.
"How about that champagne celebration in the gazebo tonight?" Tony asked her at breakfast. "I'll whip up something simple, some light snack, and we'll eat out there. It's suppose to be a perfect night."
"Okay, sure," Melanie answered absently.
Her mind, as it had been for days, was elsewhere, likely in the stratosphere of some silly dream, Tony thought.
"I'm going upstairs, getting the rest of the closets cleaned out," she said bouncing from her seat and taking the back stairs two by two.
"More closets?" Tony called after her, it sounded like wasted movement to him.
"Yeah!" she answered, turning around on the stairs. "I'm almost done." She was at the top of the stairs and almost out of hearing. He heard the door close after her, and he was left alone for another day.
At six o'clock, Tony had everything set in the gazebo. Preparing for a romantic evening, the champagne was cold, the coldcuts and bread were fashioned attractively on a plate. It seemed a monumental effort on his part; something he rarely needed to do with his more romantic wife; but she wasn't the one making the effort these days.
Tony had gone upstairs at lunch time and handed her a sandwich which she ate only half of. He told her then that he'd have things ready for dinner at six, and she could be ready then, dressed in something appropriate for the occasion. But since he'd not heard Melanie tromping around upstairs, there'd been nothing but silence all day, Tony went up to see where she was.
"God Tony, I can't now, hon," she said, when he announced his plans. There was a mess of boxes and an odd assortment of things surrounding her in one of the upstairs bedrooms; but it was nothing that couldn't wait.
"Nope, you promised," he said, reaching out for her arm, and pulling her up. He led her down to the first floor, thinking this mood of hers was going to change, and change now! "You need a break," he told her sternly. "We both need one, and we need this one together."
She struggled a little with his grasp, but Tony was adamant and there was no getting away from this. Leading her out to the gazebo, he sat her down in a wicker chair, and looked down at her with a grim expression of his own. He'd expected that Melanie would be wearing something soft and summery for the occasion, but he'd just have to accept her with her T-shirt and grungy blue jeans. Her hair was piled atop her head, now with locks all askew, and falling in her face. There was dust on her cheek; but strangely the whole look was pleasantly appealing to him; and he could feel the arousal where it mattered most. They hadn't had sex in days, since Melanie had been so despondent. Tonight would be the night.
"Now, my dear, suppose you tell me what the hell's going on," Tony ordered. He was trying to be kind, but he was also determined to get to the bottom of Melanie's melancholy mood.
"Nothing's going on," Melanie replied innocently.
"Bullshit!" Tony swore. He rarely swore and his expletive surprised her. "You've been moping for days, resisting sex. And just when everything should be perfect for you, for us, you're acting like someone's died. Come clean now!"
Tony could sense his suppr
essed anger rising at last, finally demanding some answer from his wife; though he'd really hoped that she'd just suddenly perk up, maybe whine a little about something insignificant, and they could be on to more amorous things. That didn't happen.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Melanie said flatly. Her eyes looked as dull as they had for days.
"I want an answer, and 'I don't knows' aren't going to do."
There was an instantaneous flash in her eyes, but it quickly faded.
"I guess I'm just not in the mood," she said shrugging.
"Well, maybe you're in the mood for this," Tony said. Enough of being nice, tender and romantic. Tony pulled his wife up by the wrist, and sat down himself. In one quick sweeping gesture, she was over his lap, his hand making a quick exuberant journey across her jean-clad bottom.
"Tony stop!" she shouted.
It couldn't have hurt her, there was too much padding between his hand and her skin, but she was flailing as madly as she would if he were using a paddle on her naked bottom.
"Maybe this will spark you fires again," Tony said, in response to her repeated protests.
"You can't do this," she squirmed and wiggled, but Tony was well practiced now in holding her down. Besides, she wasn't really resisting all that much. Her cries were certainly intent, but she was hardly waging a pitched battle. She was raising just enough protest to sound good, but Tony got the impression that she wanted to be spanked as much as he wanted to spank her.
For the first time in days, Melanie was feeling something. She wasn't sure herself what all the gloom and doom had been about; but she was sure now that both her emotions and her sexual fires were ignited, and that felt good. A shock wave seemed to bolt through her, and she was on fire everywhere.
With a quick jerk however, Melanie was on her feet again, a little shaky but staring wild-eyed at her husband.
"We're not done," Tony told her. His voice was cold as ice, and his glare held her petrified.
"No?" she inquired meekly.
"Get me the butter paddle."
"No, not that!" she moaned.
"Yes, that. If this little spanking worked a little, just think what the paddle will do?"
"Please. . . ." she whined softly, hoping to change his mind, though Tony looked determined.
"If I have to get it, you'll be very sorry," he warned. He was about to rise from his chair, and Melanie took off, scampering toward the house. Maybe Tony was right, maybe this was what she needed. Regardless, they were traveling down that path again, and there was little alternative.
She found the butter paddle in Tony's office where he kept it now, though he hadn't used it on her since her first spanking. Carrying it back to him, she acknowledged that while she was so depressed about "lord knows what," she was now rising to the thrilling occasion sparked by the rash sensations racing through her.
She hated the thought of the paddle on her bottom, but it seemed to be the one thing that made sense. Returning to the gazebo, Melanie handed the requested implement to Tony.
"Now, off with your pants," he said, as he grasped the paddle firmly.
"Here?" No panties?" she asked.
"Here," he confirmed.
What a terribly nasty thought. "Outside?" she questioned him again.
"We're hardly in the middle of a public place," he reminded her. The house and garden were well secluded from accidental onlookers, though that didn't seem to make any difference to Melanie; anything outside, in the nude provoked the most deliciously decadent thoughts in her head. She wished this was just going to be for erotic purposes, but she was sure that there would be much more than a sensuous spanking in store for her.
Fumbling with the buttons on her jeans, Melanie finally pushed them down off her hips to her ankles, kicking them off to one side.
"Those too," Tony ordered in his solemn voice.
Melanie removed her thin pink panties, and stood in front of her husband nude from the waist now.
"I suppose you might as well get rid of the shirt too. I like the idea of full exposure."
Melanie did too, though she shivered wondering if she would be unlucky enough to have some friend driving up the driveway, just at that moment. But putting that idea out of her head, she pulled the T-shirt over her head, and stood stark naked for Tony to view. He seemed to like what he saw, but he didn't comment on that, even though Melanie could detect the crotch of his pants rise just a little when he looked at her firm bust, and the sumptuous flesh of her thighs and pussy.
"Perhaps a good dose of this will cure what ails you," Tony suggested, waving the butter paddle at her.
"I think that's hardly the cure," Melanie automatically protested, even though she couldn't wait to begin.
"Too bad. I'm going to do it anyway," he replied. "Over my lap now!"
Relenting, Melanie went over Tony's strong lap and waited for the first rude smack.
With Tony's initial burst of anger having passed fifteen minutes before, this spanking was much more deliberate and methodical than the first one. Tony smacked her hard with several quick smacks, first on one wiggling rear cheek, and then on the other. Alternating from cheek to cheek, he proceeded to give her a very sound punishment, until her bottom was glowing with a lovely red blush.
"Oh, my god, this stings," she wailed. The wood felt so sharp and burning on her skin. It was much more painful than the leather spanker. She was grateful when Tony would stop for just a moment, and she could appreciate the feel of her well warmed rear. But when she wiggled as if she wanted more, and Tony accommodated her readily, laying on the paddle for another sharp blast. The swift journey over the reddened flesh aroused her more, even as the pain increased in degree.
With each new round, Melanie was so hot, she cried out louder than ever. She was angry, elated, hurting, squirming, squealing, and completely undone, not knowing whether to hate or love it, try and bolt away, or yield and stay. Her feelings for Tony were as mixed as they were for the spanking itself. She could pummel him in an instant with a vicious wrath, or fall into his arms and make love, even as he continued to smack her bottom.
She was mixed up, happy and enraged all at once.
But she certainly wasn't depressed anymore.
Tony had never seen Melanie like this, it seemed as if she was fighting herself. Certainly there was a lot more going on than curing simple depression. The quality of her protest was different than he'd ever heard from her, and though he was initially wary of its intensity, his gut told him that she would finally calm.
After what seemed like an eternity, he could feel her finally relinquish. Her protests turned to sobs, the thrashing finally ceased, and her whole being appeared to yield as he'd known her to before. Seeing her bottom so wickedly raw, he had no desire to inflict more punishment. Deciding enough was enough, he put the paddle down, pulled her into his lap, and as Melanie whimpered quietly, he gently massaged her bottom. Letting her cry, he soothed her with his affectionate hand, and tiny kisses to her tear dampened face.
"Hey," he said softly, pulling back so he could look at her. "You know now what's going on?" he asked.
"No," she answered. "I'm just glad you're here, and that you spanked me out of that horrible gloom. It's just . . . ."
"Just what?" he asked. He thought perhaps the answer to her problem was right on the tip of her tongue.
"Just that," she looked at him so sheepishly, she didn't know how to say what wasn't quite clear to her. "Finishing this house, just didn't do it for me."
"Do what?" he asked.
"Make me happy. I thought it would. I mean it's gorgeous, beautiful, but what now?" she asked him.
He looked at her impressed with the piece of self awareness that seemed to come out of no where. He was impressed, but not altogether shocked. It was obvious that she wasn't happy when the house was done.
"I think, my love, that's something you're going to have to figure out." He wiped her tears away with his hand, and then pulled her closer to him. H
er naked bottom was still burning warm from the good abuse. "At least we know that spanking you is good for something other than punishment," he added. He patted her softly.
"I thought we already knew that it turned us on," she said, switching gears rapidly. She realized how aroused she was, realized that days without sex had finally caught up with her. "You suppose we could have sex right here?" she said, slipping down between Tony's legs.
"I don't see why not," he said. It's just you and me and the bugs out here."
She was already working on the belt of his pants.
"Maybe sometime you could use this on me," she said with a delicious gleam in her eyes.
"How about tonight?" Tony answered.
She smiled, seducing him with her dripping eyes, and her sweating naked body. It was back to the Melanie he loved, with some added new twists.
There was a lounging settee just a foot away, where they could play to their heart's content, or at least until they were chased inside by the cooling night air. For the moment however, there was nothing but warm bodies, and a rising warmth between them, around them, and in every little space of that gazebo. It took a long time to cool the heat, and expend the built up, raging fires. But a little leather and a little more paddle, and a lot of savage screwing seemed to do the trick.
Chapter Ten
Tony watched his wife bustle about the kitchen. She had a dozen trays of hors d'oeuvres lining the counters of the freshly remodeled room. Melanie was a wizard when it came to cooking, and she usually breezed through such preparations; but it was clear to him that things were not going as smoothly as normal.
"Can I help?" he asked. They were still a half hour away from their guests arriving.
"Yes, you can get out of my way," Melanie said, pushing past her husband on the way to the other side of the room.
"No cause to be snippy," Tony said.
"Please don't start. I'm still pissed at you for not telling me you invited ten more people."
"Mel, with all the trouble you were going through, it's hardly a change at all," he said.
"You don't think so, well I have another opinion on that!" she snapped. Her eyes were sharp, her mouth frowning.
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