by Cara Bristol
Her husband entered and shut the door. Melania’s heart hitched at the quiet finality of the click. Jared’s hair was wet, lying slick against his scalp, and he’d changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. She wondered what he’d been doing that he felt the need to shower and change.
Melania’s stomach knotted with dread. Her fate and that of their marriage were in Jared’s hands. Now she knew how criminal defendants felt as they awaited the jury’s verdict. He moved closer, and she studied his face for a sign of what he’d decided, but found his expression too enigmatic to read. Jared had been so angry, so disappointed with her, she knew it was a trick of the light combined with her own foolish wishes that made his eyes seem to gleam with relief and love. She nibbled on her lip. What was he really feeling? What was he thinking? What was the verdict?
Jared stopped in front of her. Her heart picked up a beat. His lips drew into a severe line. Sternness she recognized. “If you have an issue, you need to bring it to me so we can discuss it and work it out. I realize that although you thought about leaving, you decided against it. However, packing a suitcase and thinking about abandoning our marriage the first time things don’t go your way is still unacceptable. I agree your impulsive behavior warrants a physical reprimand.” His choice of words and severe tone sounded remarkably like her elementary school principal, and she pressed her lips together to stifle a nervous giggle.
He tilted his head toward the spanking implement on the wall. “Get the paddle.”
Her stomach lurched with relief and apprehension. He was granting her a second chance. This time she wouldn’t screw it up. “Yes, Jared.” She nodded.
Knees knocking, she retrieved the paddle and surrendered to the compulsion to caress the blade. She marveled at the cool, satiny smoothness of the polished wood. It was going to ignite a furnace of heat on her bottom. She raised her gaze from the paddle to see Jared watching her. Excitement raced within her veins, fueled by equal parts dread and desire. A need for the paddle to connect with her bottom, to have Jared wield it, kindled in her core. She wanted Jared to spank her the way a parched man thirsted for water.
She delivered the paddle like a sacred offering to her husband.
He took it. “Take off your clothes.”
“All of them?” Her heartbeat quickened.
His gaze bored into hers. “All of them.”
She pulled her top over her head and shivered slightly as the cool air puckered her nipples. She wiggled out of her tight jeans. Taking a deep breath, she hooked her thumbs into her white lace thong and pulled it off. She got naked in front of Jared all the time, showered with him, made love with him, but standing nude before him now, she felt exceedingly vulnerable but curiously powerful, as if she were the one in control.
“Bend over the arm of the sofa.”
She gestured toward the spanking bench. “You’re not going to use the—”
“Do as I say.”
She clamped her lips together. Feeling self-conscious, she leaned over the sofa arm.
Jared settled his hand on her left shoulder, searing her with the imprint of his warm touch. “Put your elbows on the seat and spread your legs,” he ordered quietly.
Melania gulped. The odd excitement was still there, but it was getting scary too. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t bawl like a baby this time, but worried, anticipatory tears lurked behind her eyes. The memory of the last time was still fresh.
Jared trailed his hand from her shoulder, down her back to her bottom, smoothing and warming her skin, drawing lazy circles on her cheeks, sending a small electrical charge through her sensitive flesh. Every place he touched tingled. Her knees shook, but she rose to her tiptoes and pressed into his touch, requesting more. She felt a release of wet warmth between her thighs. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears, and a sensation—half wanton, half fearful—fluttered low in her stomach. She shivered.
“Cold?” His voice held concern.
Jared kept his office cool, but it was his touch, the anticipation of what was to come rather than the temperature, that had tiny goose bumps breaking out on her skin. “I’m okay.” Her nipples cooled against the leather of the sofa.
Jared stopped stroking, and Melania hung her head. As much as she wanted the spanking, she dreaded it. Fire burned as easily as it warmed. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please let the spanking be fast. Please, just fast.
A second later, her eyes flew open as pain streaked across her bottom. The crack of the paddle against her flesh sounded like a gunshot in the quietness of the room. Only one strike—one single spank—and her bottom burned. Only one strike—one single spank—and the kindling of lust evaporated in a blaze of pain.
The paddle fell again. She tasted blood as she bit her lip to stifle a cry. She curled her hands into the smooth leather, trying to get a grip, fearing that if she resisted, he would double her punishment—or worse, not follow through with it.
Melania reared her head up and arched her back as a third spank seared a lower cheek and the top of one thigh. She had asked for this and could call it off, but pressed her lips together, unwilling to do so. She would see this through to the end. She had to.
Melania had no way to anticipate the blows, to brace for them. Sometimes Jared paused, allowing the pain to subside to a throbbing ache before striking again. Then the wooden paddle would fall two, three—once four times—in short succession. It was like he wanted to keep her guessing, keep her on edge.
Long before she lost count of the blows, she started to cry, but she clung to the sofa cushions, unwilling to halt her punishment.
“Do you know why you’re being spanked?” Jared asked. The paddled blistered one of her cheeks.
“Because…because I acted immaturely,” she sobbed, her voice rising as the unforgiving wood connected again with her yielding cheek. “And I didn’t trust you.”
“That’s right. You need to focus. To think before you act.” He punctuated each sentence with a spank from the paddle.
She collapsed onto the sofa, and her abdomen rested on the arm. She pressed her face into the cushions, her tears dampening the leather. Melania shoved her fist into her mouth to stifle her sobs. She wanted to be strong.
When she thought she couldn’t possibly endure any more, out of the pain emerged a shimmer, a glowing crescendo of beckoning light. She felt as if she were floating, her body seeming weightless. The light lifted her higher and higher until she rose above the pain to ride on its crest.
She still felt each torturous sting of the paddle, but with each strike, the shimmering light intensified, glowing brighter, and the pain ceased to matter.
“The last five, Melania.” Jared’s voice, so rough and masculine, drifted from far away. Her heart swelled, and the light grew brighter still.
Her legs found their strength, and she raised her bottom, seeking out each glorious sting, craving more. She wanted to capture the feeling and hold it to her heart. Her head fell back, and she wept a keening song of painful pleasure.
From Melania’s throat came a wail unlike anything Jared had ever heard. His arm froze in midair. Her sobs of pain had made him ache, but this cry sent chills shivering up his spine.
He hurled aside the paddle and lifted her off the sofa. A rag doll, she slumped in his arms, her unfocused eyes rolling back into her head.
Jared’s blood ran cold, and an icy fear sliced him clear to the bone. Christ, what had he done? Her wail tapered to a low moan, no less eerie than the keening. He shook her. “Melania! Stop it. Right now,” he ordered brusquely.
Please, stop it, he begged silently. He wrapped her in his arms and held her face to his chest. He stroked her soft curls with a shaking hand. He bowed his head over her, and her sweet scent filled his nostrils. Tears stung his eyes as he held her, rocking her shuddering body.
Her heart beat in a steady pitter-patter rhythm; his galloped like a racehorse.
Jared swallowed the lump in his throat. If he had hurt her, he’d never forgive himself. What
the hell happened? The spanking had seemed to progress normally. He’d paddled her no harder than the first time, perhaps even a little lighter. She’d begun to cry almost immediately, but that was expected. But he’d never heard anyone wail like Melania had.
What if he’d caused her a permanent mental injury? Jared cursed himself. He wished he had more experience. That was the drawback to being head of household: you were supposed to know everything to make the right decisions for you and your wife. But what if you were wrong?
Jared lifted her into his arms and sank onto the sofa while cradling her limp body. She curled her hand into the fabric of his T-shirt, a sign she was coming out of it. He clutched her to his chest, caressing her lightly with his free hand. Her skin felt as smooth as silk. He glided his hand over the line of her back, moved it gently over her flame red buttocks, then smoothed it over her thighs.
She whimpered, a quiet little noise that sounded like pleasure, but Jared knew that wasn’t possible.
He stroked her. “Everything’s okay, Melania. It’s okay,” he whispered, praying it was true. He kissed her hair. She smelled like rain and sunshine and laughter and everything good.
“Jared?”
His stomach somersaulted in relief at the soft sound of her voice. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is that it? Is it over?”
“It’s over.” Jared pressed his face to her hair.
He had wanted to determine if Melania would flourish under domestic discipline, and now he had the answer. She wasn’t cut out for it.
Plenty of couples experienced long, happy marriages without the benefits of a strict regimen. Domestic discipline was like marine boot camp. Some people could handle it; others couldn’t. He and Melania loved each other. They would find a way to make their marriage thrive without it. He would find a way.
“Thank you.” She sighed, a curiously dreamy sound.
That was that. There would be no more spankings. Melania rubbed her delicate hand in circles on his chest, accidentally finding and stroking his nipple. He felt an immediate surge in his cock. Christ, he was a horny bastard. She circled again, and disgusted with himself, he captured and stilled her hand.
“That was amazing,” she said, her voice growing stronger.
Jared’s head snapped back. “What?”
She lifted her head. The love and happiness that shone in her misty eyes caused his heart and other parts of his anatomy to clench. “The spanking was amazing. Thank you for that.”
Her soft words knocked the wind out of him, rendered him speechless. He gaped at her.
She pressed her hand to his chin. “Careful, you’ll catch flies,” she said.
“You’re thanking me for spanking you?” He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
“It was the most awesome experience I’ve ever had. I was flying.” She smiled serenely. “The pain was still there, but it felt…not good, but beautiful.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it.”
Relief washed over him. He hadn’t injured her. She was fine. Better than fine.
Jared knew it was theoretically possible for spanked wives to achieve a kind of euphoria called subspace, but hadn’t given it much consideration. He didn’t pursue spanking for pleasure; he practiced it for discipline. “Sometimes when people are spanked, they experience an altered state of consciousness,” he explained. He knew the theory. Until now, he’d never seen it in action.
“It was definitely that.” Melania bobbed her head enthusiastically.
“You scared the crap out of me.” Jared’s stomach still churned. “I thought I’d damaged you.” He raked a hand through his hair. “The way you cried out… I’ve never heard anything like that.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that.” She shook her head. “You enabled me to experience something I never imagined was possible.” She traced his jaw with her fingers.
He shifted her on his lap to ease the pressure. His cock was at full staff now.
Melania sat up and straddled him. Her naked pussy pressed against him; her nipples brushed his chest. He could feel the heat radiating from her reddened ass. Melania peered at him from under lowered lashes, her lips curving into a seductive, confident smile. “I want you to do it again,” she said.
“You want me to spank you again?” He swallowed hard, his heart thumping in hope. Could they actually have a domestic discipline marriage after all? He cupped her beautiful, blushing cheeks, the ones he’d heated with the paddle.
“Yes. I want you to spank me, Jared.” She nodded, and her nipples teased his chest. The hard points poked him through his T-shirt.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He held his breath, waiting for her answer. He wanted to give her an out, to be sure that spanking was truly what she wanted and that she wasn’t capitulating just to please him.
She giggled, a light, gleeful sound that dashed away his doubts. “Not right now, silly. Even in an altered state of consciousness, I don’t think my bottom could handle another. But again. Sometime in the future. The near future.” She glanced at him shyly. “When I need one. When you think I need one.”
Joy and love filled him, then spilled over, too great to contain. Jared threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, you’ll need one.” He closed his hand over her breast and grasped one of the nipples that had tormented his chest. “So you’re saying domestic discipline has your wholehearted support?” he teased.
Her expression serious, she nodded. “I should be on maintenance.”
Jared’s eyes widened. “You know about maintenance?”
“Uh-huh.” She unsnapped his jeans and pulled on the tab of his zipper. His cock sprang free, hard and ready. “I think I would do well on a maintenance program.”
He pictured Melania turned over his lap or bent over the spanking bench, her ass ripe and ready. He inhaled, striving for control. Regular maintenance spankings would be less physically severe but would reinforce Melania’s submissive role. The color of her ass would be a paler hue, but it would be rosy more often. His cock twitched.
She closed her hands around his erection. He stifled a groan of pleasure.
Yes. As soon as her ass recovered sufficiently from this session, he’d implement some routine spankings.
“So, will you put me on maintenance or not?” With teasing fingers she traced the ridge of his thick crown.
“I’ll think about it.” It wouldn’t do to agree too readily.
He was the head of household.
Loose Id Titles by Cara Bristol
Unexpected Consequences
Cara Bristol
Cara Bristol writes the kind of romance she likes to read: spicy tales of love and lust that are fun, sexy, and stirring. She believes a touch of taboo or a hint of kink only makes a love story that much hotter.
When she’s not whipping up erotic stories, Cara loves to travel the world with her husband, walk the beach of the Pacific Northwest island where she lives, and though she hates to admit it, watch reality TV shows. Oh, and she reads—erotic romance, of course.
Cara loves to hear from readers! You may post a comment on her Web site, http://carabristol.com, email her at [email protected], or follow her on Twitter, http://www.twitter.com/#!/CaraBristol.
Table of Contents
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Loose Id Titles by Cara Bristol
Cara Bristol
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