“We’re waiting, Joanne.”
Jo cleared her throat. She could hear that slight buzzing she sometimes got in her head in the middle of an argument or conflict. There was an almost pleasurable familiarity to it.
“Well, everyone,” said Jo, putting on a bright, cheery voice. “I have what is known as an adult female body type, and I will wear whatever the fuck kind of clothes I want.”
Chapter Fourteen
“So, Mr Butler, if Darcy reaches back or starts flailing her arms about—go ahead, Darcy—show me what you would do to restrain her.”
Chris wasn’t sure how to feel about having the secretary back over his lap again: not after Jo’s reaction the previous evening. But they were all expected to practise the restraining techniques that they had been shown earlier in the class and “having a go” was non-negotiable.
Today’s tutor had simply introduced himself as “Call me Jim” and he seemed the most convivial one so far. He was younger than the other two—Chris guessed Jim and himself were pretty similar in age—and had long, sand-coloured hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a wide smile.
That smile flashed again now as Darcy reached back and tried to push herself off Chris’s lap by bracing her right hand up against his chest.
“Oh, no you don’t,” said Chris, with a laugh, grabbing hold of her hand.
His grip on her wrist was too loose though, and with the tiniest of struggles she was free again and back to trying to push herself away.
“Hold her wrist tight, Chris,” advised Jim. He was sitting in a chair opposite them, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees whilst the other men stood around watching. Chris was first this time and so hadn’t had the chance to learn from everyone else’s mistakes.
Chris grabbed hold of her wrist again and held tight.
“Right, now move it so it’s positioned up behind her back—just like I showed you earlier.”
Chris did as advised… and then laughed again in surprise as Darcy reached back with her left hand and started trying to prise his fingers off her wrist.
“And I thought you were so nice!” Chris chuckled.
Jim laughed as well; a rich, delighted sound. “Oh, she isn’t nice, Chris. She’s been a bad girl. She needs a spanking and you’re going to make sure she can’t wriggle out of it. Come on: show me what you do next.”
Chris got hold of Darcy’s left hand with his free hand, pushed it under her trapped hand and then quickly grabbed both her wrists together and held them tight. However, now that both of his hands were focused on her wrists, Darcy started to wriggle her legs and hips in an attempt to escape backwards.
Feeling as though he were trying to manoeuvre a bag of cats or haul in a particularly slippery sea bass, Chris laughed again and reached back to grip her around the thighs and hoist her back up into position. “He’s right: you are bad.”
Chris thought he detected a giggle coming from Darcy, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Right, Chris, that’s good,” said Jim. “But now Darcy is going to start kicking out. Instead of taking her spanking like a good girl, she’s going to try to kick you so you’ll stop. Do you think this is acceptable behaviour, Chris?”
Chris grinned at him. He liked that Jim was so clearly all about having fun and not taking things too seriously. In fact, Jim was just the kind of guy Chris tended to be friends with: funny, easy-going, smart. It was reassuring to know that there were people into this stuff who were his kind of people.
“I don’t know, it sounds like the kind of thing Jo would do.”
That got a laugh out of the group. Chris got the impression that the other wives had told their husbands about Jo’s various showdowns with Ms Edridge and that this was mostly the cause of much amusement. To be fair, Chris would be amused too. If things hadn’t gotten so… weird.
He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the task in hand.
“Sooo… Darcy, you going to start kicking me or what?”
There was a definite giggle. And then, before Chris had time to laugh again, Darcy’s black stiletto was flying up in the direction of his face.
“Woah!” He flinched back out of the way.
Her other leg came up and Chris grabbed her calf and forced it back down. Her whole body was wriggling and struggling now. His left hand was straining to contain her pinioned wrists and the other was batting at her thrashing legs.
Chris found himself shouting “oi!” and “hey!” as he kept pushing her legs back down but it made no difference.
“Time to take control, Chris,” came Jim’s relaxed voice. “You saw me do the move earlier: get your leg over the back of her thighs.”
Sure, but Jim had made it look easy. Jim had been like a kung-fu master, effortlessly hurling somebody across a room. How was Chris supposed to turn this struggling woman around forty-five degrees and then get his leg over her scissoring ones without dropping her on the floor?
“You can do it,” said Jim, as though he had read his mind. “You just need to stop worrying that you’re going to hurt her. Be firm. Take charge. It isn’t wrong if that’s what she wants as well.”
Chris looked up then and caught Jim’s eye, just for a second. Did he know about his and Jo’s… situation?
Jim just gave him an encouraging nod.
Chris took a deep breath. “Right,” he said, turning his attention back to Darcy. She had struggled so much that her cream blouse had come untucked from her customary black pencil skirt and there were whole hanks of hair hanging loose from her bun. “I think that’s enough kicking and messing about, don’t you?”
Chapter Fifteen
Jo looked at the wad of pink slips in Mr Anderson’s hand and felt the familiar stirrings of fear (and excitement?) in her belly.
“I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there are actually more than yesterday. What do you have to say for yourself, Joanne?”
“Not sorry, if that’s what you’re after,” said Jo, pushing up her chin and folding her arms. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen while the kettle boiled behind her. She and Chris had only had time for a quick hug and a “do you want a drink and then maybe we can talk?” before the tutor had arrived and Jo was not impressed. Were she and Chris ever going to get the chance to sort things out at this place?
Chris now chose this moment to follow Mr Anderson in from where he had been closing the door behind him.
“Are you being rude already, Jo?” he asked, giving her one of his sarcastic, raised-eyebrow looks.
“Maybe. What are you going to do about it?” she shot back. Great, start being aggressive again, Jo. That’s really going to work, isn’t it?
Mr Anderson turned to Chris. “That’s quite an attitude problem your wife’s got there, Chris.”
“Yeah, it is,” replied Chris, with a wicked grin in Jo’s direction. “I’m thinking it’s about time I did something about it.”
Hope surged up inside Jo—only for a split second—and then she forced it back down again. “Yeah, whatever,” she muttered, dropping her gaze to the floor.
The kettle clicked off and she spun around to reach for it.
“Leave it,” said Mr Anderson in that stern tone he was so good at. “You can have a drink after you’ve been dealt with. In here. Now.”
“But Chris wanted a drink too and—”
“Now!”
With a pointed sigh, Jo crossed her arms across her chest and stomped into the room. Yep, the petulant teenager was back again.
Mr Anderson looked sideways at Chris. “Is she always like this?”
“Nah, it only seems to be with you. You must… bring it out of her.”
Jo could sense that Chris was on the verge of laughter—as always—and she glowered at him.
“Oi,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her, his lips quirking only slightly. “Don’t you go looking at me like that, Mrs Butler.”
She let her breath out and pulled her folded arms even tighter across her chest.
“I do agree,” replied Chris at once and he sounded serious enough (although Jo didn’t dare believe it). “Do you agree, Jo?”
Jo stared up at him. “What… I… Does it matter?”
Chris gave a short laugh. “Of course!”
For some reason, that laugh felt like a kick in the guts to Jo. She inhaled sharply and then spun around, heading God knows where… maybe the kitchen. But she didn’t get very far because before she knew what was happening, Chris’s hand had closed around her upper arm and she was being dragged over to the sofa and toppled over his lap.
“Yes, I think you were right to take that as a yes,” commented Mr Anderson, as Jo saw him settle himself into the armchair to watch.
“You’ve made a bit of a name for yourself here, Jo,” said Chris, as he pulled up her skirt and settled his left arm over her waist. “I always said I couldn’t take you anywhere.”
“No, I—”
But Jo never finished her sentence because Chris’s hand had just made contact with her bottom and it stung far more than she had been expecting. Another smack followed and then two more in quick succession. Jo sucked in her breath.
“Rude, disruptive, argumentative…” Chris reeled off, his laidback tone contrasting with the rapid-stinging smacks of his hand. “‘Cruising for a bruising’ was, I think, the term that Karl used. That sound about right to you, Jo?”
His voice had that same piss-taking tone to it, but he seemed more confident now, more sure of himself.
But still Jo wouldn’t let herself trust that it was real. “You tell me,” she hissed out as a particularly vicious smack landed where her bottom met her thigh. “You’re the one who’s supposedly in charge.”
Another laugh. “Such an attitude.”
Just like the night before, something in Jo lurched and pulled away. “Well, if you think it’s so funny, you can just stop,” she snapped, wriggling and pushing away from him.
“No, I don’t think so,” he replied casually, and Jo gasped as he grabbed both her wrists, bunched them together in his one hand, and pulled them up behind her back. His other hand just carried on spanking.
Jo tried to wriggle herself backwards off his lap but then gasped again—a mix of pure outrage and a surge of arousal—as he yanked her around so that she suddenly found herself facing back into the sofa cushions with her thighs trapped between both of his legs.
“So,” said Chris, resuming the spanking where he’d left off and acting as if the whole wriggling incident had never happened. “Would you agree that you are argumentative?”
Jo’s bottom was really starting to sting and now she had no wriggle room. She flinched as another smack landed, loving the feel of his legs holding her tight and trapped and at the same time, trying to convince herself that it was all an act and he didn’t really want it.
“So they’ve taught you what to say now, have they?” she spat back, certain that this would throw him and she would be able to escape back into her own miserable self-righteousness again.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I think that goes for rude as well,” Mr Anderson cut in, his voice as mild and laidback as Chris’s—as though this was an act they had planned out together or something. “Maybe time for the knickers to come down, do you think?”
Chapter Sixteen
Chris loved the feeling of Jo wriggling and bucking on his lap as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her knickers and dragged them down. Her bottom was already a beautiful shade of pink, and he found, to his surprise, that he was actually relishing the challenge of turning that pink to red. Maybe this place had finally got to him. Maybe he was starting to realise just why so many people liked this sort of thing.
He wasn’t an idiot, though: he could tell that Jo still needed some convincing. Well, there was only one way to prove it to her.
Chris drew back his hand and brought it smartly down onto her exposed left cheek. He felt Jo jolt and gasp underneath him.
“Feeling sorry yet, Jo?” he asked, as he aimed a second smack at her right cheek.
“No—oww—no!” she forced out, through what sounded to Chris like gritted teeth. Her blouse was all rumpled up her back now and her skirt was a just a bunched-up belt around her waist. She looked so messed up and wild and hot: they could have been in the midst of a desperate quickie rather than a spanking.
“That’s a shame.” Chris rained a rapid volley of smacks down on her bottom. Jo bucked and writhed more than ever. As the onslaught gathered pace, gasps turned to squeaks, which turned to out-and-out yells.
And then…
“Please!” gasped Jo.
Chris paused… but then continued after a warning look from Mr Anderson. “Please what?” he asked, keeping his voice even and maintaining his spanking rhythm.
“Please… please stop.” Her head dipped as she said it and her whole body seemed to sag across his thigh. Was she embarrassed?
“Well, I’m not sure,” said Chris, improvising and shooting glances at Mr Anderson to make sure he was on the right track. “Are you ready to say sorry yet?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Chris landed a sharp smack across both of her cheeks and she twisted violently on his lap.
“Oww—yes—I’m sorry—please!”
Chris raised his eyebrows at Mr Anderson who made a rolling motion with his right hand as if to say “keep it going”. Chris leaned back into the sofa cushions and pulled Jo in closer to his body. He loved the warmth of her, the friction of her twisting hip, and her bunched up skirt between his thighs.
“What are you sorry for?” he asked, picking up the spanking where he had left off.
Jo gave out a little cry of combined outrage and dismay. “Stop—please—I said I was sorry!”
There was still a residual hint of petulance.
“Yes, you did but I want details,” replied Chris. “I want to hear you say it and you’re not getting up until I do.”
Another dismayed cry. More gasps and ouches as the smacks kept coming. Jo’s bottom was a definite shade of red now, and Chris felt an odd sort of elation that it was he who had affected this change.
“I’m waiting, Jo.”
“Please…”
“Never mind ‘please’,” he shot back. “What are you sorry for?”
Jo was now so dishevelled she looked as if she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Chris could tell from the quality of her writhes and wriggles that she was hot, aroused, and desperate. He wondered if she had realised it herself yet.
“I… I’m sorry for… for…”
“Yes?”
“For being… being rude… to you… and everyone…” Her words were coming out in breathy gasps. Her whole body felt heavier, as though she were melting into him. Almost without realising he was doing it, Chris had stopped spanking Jo’s bottom and was now rubbing his palm across her hot cheeks, smoothing and squeezing, loving the sound of her whimpers beneath him.
“Well, Mr Butler,” said Mr Anderson, clapping his hands together and standing up from the armchair, “I think you two might have just had a breakthrough. Shall I leave you to it?”
Chapter Seventeen
Jo was only dimly aware of the tutor leaving the room. Her whole body felt so heavy and hot and limp. Her skin seemed to be tingling all over and her bottom was a throbbing, pulsing mass of heat. The gasps and hitches in her breathing were slowly fading away to be replaced by long, deep breaths as she felt Chris’s warm palm stroking her sore flesh.
There were thoughts trying to invade: mean little voices eager to tell her that everything would fall apart now that the tutor had left, that Chris wouldn’t be able to maintain the pretence that he was enjoying this any longer. But those voices seemed very far away right now: muffled whispers at the end of a long, foggy corridor. Jo pushed them further away at the same time as she pushed her punished bottom up against Chris�
��s hand, a pleading whimper escaping her lips.
“You want something, babe?” he murmured, just an edge of teasing in his voice.
Jo pushed her bottom upwards with even greater insistence, loving the feeling of his hot palm pressing into her flesh. “Please…”
“Please what?” he asked, moving his hand. “This?” He dipped his fingers between her legs and slid them across her slick flesh.
Jo let out an unrestrained cry, bucking backwards.
“This, Jo?”
“Yes!” she gasped, writhing and wriggling to allow his fingers entry.
“You going to ask me nicely?” murmured Chris, pushing two fingers deep inside her, the heel of his hand pushing hard against her up thrust bottom.
Jo gave another whimpering cry, bracing herself against the sofa cushions in order to push herself even further back against his hand. “Please!”
“Please what? Come on, Jo.”
“Please… please fuck me…”
Chris let out a low laugh. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”
Jo shrieked as Chris withdrew his hand, grabbed a handful of her hair, and pulled her up at the same time, clambering to his feet.
“Shush, shush, shush, silly girl,” he murmured, releasing her hair and pulling her in close against his chest with one hand whilst the other delved back between her legs.
Jo’s heart was pounding and she felt as though her knees might give way, but Chris’s arm tight around her waist held her in place. She had always loved it when Chris took control like this in the bedroom. The easy way he teased and manoeuvred her, the way he made her feel small and powerless. It was one of the reasons that his lack of apparent interest in spanking had frustrated her so intensely back before she had sent that email and opened the door that had led them here. It seemed so unfair that he could just intuitively dominate her in one way and yet not be interested in spanking.
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