Milestones

by Hensley, Alta

  Cadence waited for her friend to speak.

  Diane raised her head and stared at the ceiling. Glanced at Cadence, then looked away. She gave a sad-sounding laugh. “I don’t know why this is so hard to say.”

  “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

  Diane took a breath. “Stephen hit me.”

  Cadence widened her eyes. “Hit you? How?”

  Diane fingered her cheek, and Cadence realized the sallowness she’d noticed was a yellowing bruise. “Oh my god, Di!” Cadence gasped. “How long has he been doing this?”

  “Just once. We’ve been fighting, but the last time, well, it was bad.”

  “There’s your cause.”

  Diane shook her head. “I didn’t go to the doctor. I don’t have proof. I don’t have pictures or a medical or police report. It sounds stupid, but I didn’t want to get him into trouble. He’s a physician. That’s why I didn’t seek medical attention: All the doctors know each other. And I was embarrassed.” Entreaty quivered on Diane’s lips. “So can you help me?”

  Cadence pressed a hand to her chest. She felt awful that she didn’t have the means to give her closest friend what she needed. “Oh Di, I’m so sorry. I’m not working as a PI anymore. With Rahm coming home…I was only…uh…doing that while he was in Afghanistan.”

  “But you could still help me on the side, couldn’t you?”

  Now that she knew the truth, the yellowing on Diane’s cheekbone was so obviously a bruise, Cadence could smack herself for not noticing. And she could see the smudges wrought by sleepless nights and stress. The pinched look. She recalled the many times her friend had been there for her, remembered the blouse she’d ruined with mascara stains.

  She was a good private eye.

  Rahm was too cautious. Sometimes he became a tad overbearing in his role as head of household. He’d been wrong to ban her from the job she loved.

  How could she refuse a friend in need?

  It would not be like taking on full-time employment. It would only be a one-time thing. Rahm would never need to know.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get him!” She clasped Diane’s hand.

  ****

  “Come in,” Rahm called to his wife when she tapped on his office door.

  She entered, and he smiled. Lustrous chestnut hair grazed her chin, while bangs dusted her forehead. This evening she wore a long peasant skirt and cotton blouse cut low to display her creamy throat and a good bit of cleavage. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted coral. A gold ring graced her second toe.

  “Are you ready for me?” she asked.

  He’d been ready when he’d awakened that morning and dressed for work. He looked forward to maintenance night as a way to open communication, reinforce trust and intimacy, and prevent issues from turning into problems. Prior to his deployment, they’d had twice monthly sessions; since his return he’d delivered maintenance spankings twice a week. Many changes, not only the private investigation matter, had occurred during his absence, which emphasized the need to reestablish the roles that had worked so well for them during twenty years of marriage.

  Erotic spankings occurred in the bedroom; disciplinary and maintenance ones in his office. He didn’t mix pleasure with serious business.

  Cadence shifted her gaze between the ladder-back chair he had placed in the middle of the room and the table next to it. He’d laid out items he planned to use. “I guess you are ready,” she said.

  Rahm pushed back from his desk and padded toward her. He palmed her face and kissed her, moving his mouth over her lips, claiming her with his tongue. She moaned and melted against him. She’d become more submissive, more pliant since he’d first gotten home—almost, but not quite like she’d been before he’d left. He sensed a difference about her, not a withdrawal—because her behavior had been exemplary since he’d spanked her at the firm, and she avidly participated in whatever he requested—but something had changed. Another reason maintenance night had become so important.

  Regular, routine spankings stripped away defenses and pretenses to reveal truth.

  He pulled away. “Get undressed.”

  She unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged out of it. When she bent to wiggle out of her peasant skirt, her breasts nearly spilled out of her demi bra. She unhooked the lacy band and dropped it to the floor. Tiny bikinis followed.

  He palmed her breasts, stroked his thumbs over her nipples until they hardened, then captured a bead between each thumb and forefinger and squeezed. He loved the abundance of her tits, how they fit in his hands, the way her nipples sometimes poked through her T-shirts.

  During his tour of duty, he’d clung to the memories of the way things had been, but now he wanted more. He and Cadence had a strong, happy marriage, but he craved a fusion of mind, body and spirit.

  He cupped her neck and tilted her chin up with his thumps so he could gaze into his eyes. “You did an excellent job with Jax, with the finances, with holding everything together while I was gone. You soldiered through like a trooper. I’m so proud of how you handled things. Thank you.” He brushed his lips over hers.

  “Thank you for recognizing that,” she said. A touch of resentment flickered in her gaze. “I did a good job in the field, too,” she said quietly, and Rahm realized the PI thing was still an issue. All the more reason for regular maintenance spankings.

  “I know you did,” he said. “But I can’t let you jeopardize your safety.”

  Cadence had blindsided him by working as a PI in his own firm. It disturbed him that she hadn’t felt comfortable enough to tell him about it. He still didn’t approve for the reasons he’d outlined, but damnit, they should have talked it out. He wanted the kind of relationship where she shared everything—and then trusted him enough to allow him to decide what she needed.

  He appreciated everything she’d done in his absence, but he wanted the marriage he’d had before his deployment—and he hoped she still wanted that too. He hoped she missed being cared for and being able to lean on him. Maintenance would help get their marriage back on track.

  Chapter Four

  Cadence squirmed under the intensity of Rahm’s gaze. The moment she’d entered the room, she’d sensed a portent in the air. She exhaled her tension when he strode to the chair in the middle of the room and sat.

  Maintenance spankings centered and relaxed her, but she couldn’t in all honesty say she looked forward to them. She placed them in the same category as experiences that were better after they had ended. Like going to dentist. She liked having clean, sparkly teeth but didn’t particularly care for having people pick at her mouth.

  She didn’t enjoy painful spankings, but savored the tingling, warm aftermath. The closeness. The intimacy. She liked that Rahm tended to the matters of their lives—took care of her. Maintenance served as a regular reminder of their roles: Rahm led, she willingly followed. She’d never disagreed with any of his decisions until the PI business had come up. She liked being cossetted—but she liked being independent, too. How did that fit within the context of a domestic discipline marriage?

  Maybe maintenance would help to clarify what she wanted, how their marriage should function.

  She glanced at the single-tailed tawse he’d placed on the table and gulped. He’d never used one on her before.

  Some maintenance spankings were like quickies. Over fast. This one would not be. She glanced at another item and gulped. Holy crap! Her stomach tumbled a bit, but with nervousness or excitement, she wasn’t sure. After years of spankings, they’d developed a sweet spot, a placement perfect for him to deliver, her to receive. As she wiggled into position over his lap, balancing on toe and fingertips, she bumped his erection. She’d made him hard.

  Rahm stroked her lower back, ass, and thighs. He had masculine hands, large and rough, and the slight abrasion awakened nerves, caused her pussy to moisten. He said nothing, but continued to caress her, and if not for her upside down position, she could almost convince herself she was there
for a butt massage.

  She’d closed her eyes in pleasure, but then he shifted, lifted one hand. Her eyes sprang open. He reached for the lube. She tensed.

  “Easy, Cadence, easy,” he soothed with his voice and a caress.

  She’d seen the huge stainless fucker. He’d been retraining her anal passage with increasingly larger plugs, but this one represented a quantum leap in size.

  Cadence shook her head. “I don’t think I can take that one. It’s too big.”

  “Yes, you can.” Rahm touched her anus with a lubed finger, and then pushed inside. Despite her tension, she took the digit easily, feeling slight fullness, pressure. He relubed and worked his finger into her twice more before coating the plug and cleaning his hand with a wipe.

  She eyed the gleaming, lubed metal monster. “Please, Rahm, can’t we use a smaller one?”

  He placed his palm on her lower back. “Trust me, Cadence. You’re ready for this. After I spank you, I want to you enjoy it when I fuck your ass.”

  She’d known he’d planned for anal sex by the rubber she spotted among the paraphernalia on the table. They didn’t use or need condoms for birth control. Only anal.

  “Spread your cheeks for me.”

  She dreaded this part—but loved it too. Found it humiliating to expose her brown hole because she’d been taught it was dirty, but that very naughtiness made her wet. As an independent woman, she often resented his rules, but she approved of their effects. Disliked the process, but wanted the outcome.

  She would not like the process if Rahm found out about Diane. He would whip her ass cherry red if he discovered her disobedience. She would have no ambivalence about spanking then. There would be no pleasure, only pain.

  Cadence gripped her behind and did as instructed.

  “Good girl.” His praise radiated warmth. Moments later, he touched the tip of the cold, wet plug to her opening.

  She felt only fullness at first as her body accepted the intrusion without fuss, but when Rahm pressed the object deeper and stretched her wider, she feared her sphincter couldn’t accommodate more. Idea planted, she tensed. Pain now.

  Relaxation was the only way to take it, but she couldn’t relax. “Rahm, please,” she panted, but she did not release her cheeks.

  “You please me very much,” Rahm said in a low voice, and eased the plug out a little. Relief. For the moment. She breathed through her mouth. “The only thing sexier than you accepting this plug will be watching you take my cock.”

  Rahm’s words sent a rocket of lust zinging through her body. He’d always been able to arouse her in this way. Maintenance wasn’t supposed to be sexual, but funny how it often turned out that way. Now used to the plug, she moaned with pleasure when the widest part burned past her sphincter and was seated.

  “You may lower your hands,” he said.

  Just shifting to brace against the floor called attention to the plug. Hard. Like Rahm’s cock would be.

  He stung her ass with a hard slap that reverberated through her quivering flesh. Another swat. And another. Three to the same spot. Then the other side.

  He paused to rub the sting. Her butt had warmed already.

  Smack! Another blow fell. Then several more.

  Rahm rubbed. “How are you doing?”

  She took a breath. “I’m fine.”

  “How’s the plug?”

  She could hardly clench her muscles around the huge toy. She had no choice but to relax.

  “Big.” She squirmed on his lap.

  He chuckled, and scorched her behind, then massaged. “What have you been doing this week?”

  “The usual. Cooking. Cleaning. Going to the gym.” How strange that they talked of common pursuits while she lay stark naked with an anal plug stuck inside her while he whaled on her as. That was their way. Maintenance.

  Thwack!

  “You’ve seemed a little distracted this week.”

  Not distracted. Busy. Feeling guilty. “Um, I’m getting used to new routines now that you’re home.” Her cheeks flamed with her lie. Thank goodness her position hid her face. Rahm was too perceptive by far.

  “Have you applied for another job?”

  “No.”

  “If you want to come back to the agency, I’ll find a job for you.”

  Perhaps she was being stubborn, biting off her nose to spite her face, but there was only one way she’d return to the agency. “But not in the field,” she said.

  “Not in the field.”

  “Thank you, but no.” Working Diane’s case had shown her it had to be all or nothing. She couldn’t see, but sensed his movement. He picked up the tawse. She held her breath.

  Cool air breezed across her seconds before he torched her skin. She expelled her breath in a whoosh as she yelped. Another streak of fire blazed across the other moon, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  He rubbed. Rasped with rough hands. “What kind of job do you want?”

  A PI one! “I don’t know.” If she couldn’t work as a detective, then she needed to reevaluate. What did one do when one had found her bliss, but it was denied to her? Sometimes Rahm wasn’t fair.

  In the short term, she couldn’t seek employment because the case occupied her time. She’d been keeping tabs on Diane’s soon-to-be-ex-husband—when she could. Rahm had surprised her twice by dropping home for a nooner. Other days, she’d beaten him home by only a hair. Dinner had been late a few times.

  He landed the tawse on a burning cheek.

  “Rahm!” Her hips bucked with the pain. Worse than the paddle, her hairbrush, the kitchen spoons, his belt.

  “Breathe,” he coached. “Breathe.” With his finger he traced the burning streak he’d laid across her ass. “You don’t have to work if you don’t want to. But if you do, I want you to find something you’ll enjoy.”

  “I’d found something I enjoyed!” Cadence snapped.

  Rahm shifted the tawse to his left hand so he could dip his fingers between her legs. Heat flooded her face as she realized how swollen and wet she was. He rumbled with satisfaction while drawing circles on her clit. He tapped the engorged bud with fingers and her head whirled, awash in sensation.

  Her clit pulsed with need, her anal channel felt stuffed and achy, while her buttocks flamed.

  He moved his hand from her sex to her ass. Squeezed her cheeks hard. She yelped in pain. “I know you did. But it’s not safe. I won’t allow you to endanger yourself.” Rahm shifted the tawse back to his other hand and struck twice as if to emphasize his point.

  She breathed through the pain like she’d done when she’d given birth to Jax. “It’s not any safer for you.”

  “That’s different. I know how to defend myself in a physical altercation, and I’m armed. I took a self-defense course.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “When you were away.”

  “Good. I’m glad you did. But I still won’t allow you to work in the field at the agency, mine or anyone else’s.” Rahm laid the strip of hard leather right across the crease where thigh met ass on both sides.

  The world grayed. Tears ran down her cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sitting through a stakeout was difficult enough without having your ass striped.

  He massaged her inflamed skin. She squirmed.

  In total he delivered ten strokes. She squealed when he laid the final strike across a spot that had already received a couple. He grabbed the plug in her ass. “Push,” he said.

  The widest part passed first, burned. Then relief.

  He didn’t cuddle her as he usually did, but while she wiped away tears, Rahm bent her over the sofa back. Though her ass suffered, every muscle and every nerve ending quivered with desire. She’d felt his erection, saw the large wet spot she’d left on the thigh of his slacks. Still her heart contracted half with trepidation, as she watched him don a condom and lube his cock. Had his face ever looked so intense? So fierce?

  He stepped behind her. “Spread your ass cheeks.”

  She obeyed. Her
buttocks radiated heat against her palms. He guided his cock to her rosette. With gentle insistence, he pushed inside. Her body surrendered. “That’s the way, Cadence. Open for me. That’s it. You’re so fucking hot the way you take my cock.”

  She panted through the slight burn, grateful now the plug had eased the way. Rahm had known her limits.

  When he was balls deep, she released her cheeks.

  “Fuck you’re tight,” he groaned.

  Fuck, he was big. Her entire body seemed to be electrified by sensation and portent. He thrust: She dug her fingernails into the seat cushion bottom, not caring she would leave scratches in the leather.

  His cock filled the space inside her, the way Rahm took up the space in her life.

  She craved him with a wild, senseless, insane desire. That’s why she bowed to his way, because serving him fulfilled her. With him, she flew.

  He gripped her hips and lifted her so that her feet left the ground, and drove into her deeper. She flailed her legs and surrendered to the riotous sensations. Her mound pressed against the sofa back and every thrust rocked her to the core. Her clit pulsed.

  Everything burned: her clit, her buttocks, and her ass. Oh, God her ass. No longer gentle, he pounded into her channel, uttering profane, praiseful words.

  She wailed as orgasm shuddered through her.

  Rahm’s cock surged and he came.

  He collapsed on top of her, panting. The sofa back dug into her hips, but she relished the weight of his heavy body, his cock still throbbing inside her. After a moment, he lifted himself and pulled out. She winced; her bottom hole felt punished, too, but it was nothing compared to the burning across her ass, the tops of her thighs.

  “Don’t move.”

  She remained in place, exposed and vulnerable.

  Rahm returned to dab a warm, wet washcloth to her sore hole, dropped it onto a readied towel, then lifted her, cradled her into his arms. He’d changed his pants and remained dressed.