Milestones

by Hensley, Alta

  She resisted the urge to sniff, not wanted to alert Luis to her little bitty-pity-party. Instead she stuffed the pain back inside, watching her handsome husband as he stood at the stove, taking stock of what she had started.

  He showered and dressed, then finished cooking while she remained with her bottom in the air. “Okay, Claire, come to breakfast.”

  She sat on the washcloth he’d brought her since her bottom was still bare. It felt awkward to eat at the table without panties, and Luis made it worse.

  “I think I’m ready for the corset to come off,” he informed her.

  She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Luis,” she whined.

  “Instant obedience. Or you will be punished.” He pulled a wooden spoon from his back pocket and waved it.

  Her face grew even hotter as she fumbled with the hooks in the back to free herself of the top. Her breasts sprang free from their pushed-up position, overlooking her plate of food. Discomfort with the situation sparked irritation until she caught the smolder in Luis’s eye as he smirked at her. She lifted her chin. “Enjoying yourself?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Come here,” he beckoned.

  Her knees felt weak as she stood and walked around the table to stand before him. He pulled out the spoon again and gave her three sharp whacks on her bottom.

  “Ooh!” She danced away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her to stand trapped between his knees.

  “Enjoying yourself, what?”

  She stared, confused. “Oh. Enjoying yourself, sir?” she amended.

  He grinned. “Yes. Quite a bit. You may sit.”

  She scampered back to her seat, eating the tasty omelet. “Thank you for making breakfast.”

  He beamed. “My pleasure.”

  She imagined the way he would take care of her when she was pregnant and the pang of yearning returned.

  “After breakfast, we are going to have an Appreciative Inquiry. Do you know what that is?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s a method of evaluation. We will examine our relationship—both the domestic discipline side and our marriage in general.”

  She licked her lips, feeling irrationally nervous. Of course, nothing got by Luis.

  “There is nothing to worry about, querida. Remember, boot camp is not to correct, it is to grow.”

  She flashed him a grateful smile and wiped her lips with her napkin. “Would you reconsider clothing?” Then hastily tacked on “—Sir?”

  He gave her a wicked grin. “No chance. I was just looking forward to watching you wash the dishes like that.”

  She rolled her eyes, but took his cue, standing and collecting their plates from the table to clean up. True to his word, Luis leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head to watch with a leer. When she finished, he called her to the couch.

  “Now, consider yourself lucky, mi amor. Some head of households require their subs to sit on a hard wooden surface for the assignments. I don’t see the benefit in that, though. Of course, I’m assuming I did spank you hard enough that you’re still sore?”

  “Yes!” she said hurriedly.

  He laughed and handed her a piece of paper with questions typed on it and spaces for her answers. Giving her a pen, he said, “Take as much time as you need to answer these questions for our first assignment.”

  “Our assignment?”

  With a movement so swift she did not even guess it was coming. Luis pulled her to stand and peppered her bottom with sharp smacks with the wooden spoon.

  “Sir!” she hollered. “Sor-ry! I meant, ‘our assignment’, sir!”

  “That’s better,” he said, pushing her back to sit. He went on as if the little spanking interlude had never happened. “Yes, I will be filling out a similar worksheet and we’ll discuss our answers when we are through. The first topic relates to DD.”

  She picked up the pen he offered and scanned through the questions.

  1. What things can I do to help you feel submissive? What things do you do to help yourself feel submissive?

  She chewed on the end of her pen, then wrote:

  Things you do:

  --Give me the stern look.

  --Issue an order, particularly one that seems meaningless, so I don’t feel guilty--like telling me what to wear.

  --Spank me (duh!)

  --Hold me down when we have sex

  Things I do:

  --Dress with you in mind

  --Cook for you

  --Wash and iron your clothes

  --Suck your cock

  --Kneel (I guess I don’t do that without being ordered, so that should be moved above)

  She read the next question:

  2. What moment(s) stand out where my dominance worked?

  Her jaw bobbed up and down as she remembered the way he had tried to wrest control of the pregnancy project from her. She regretted the way she’d reacted to his scheduling of the appointment with the fertility specialist—she’d shut him down without appreciating the effort he was making to rid her of stress. Blinking back tears, she wrote:

  “Taking over the pregnancy project. So grateful—I love you.”

  She read the third question:

  3. What rules do you love? What rules would help you grow?

  She wrote: “I love all your rules. I love when you give me rules. I love obeying your rules.” She thought about it more and realized there could be many rules she wouldn’t love. She had read about DD head of households with very strict, controlling expectations. She would hate that. She amended. “I guess I wouldn’t love all rules if you made too many, though. I like that your rules are fair and reasonable. I like arbitrary ones when they are outlandish enough to make me smile,” she wrote, remembering when he had given a playful spanking for letting the house run out of toilet paper.

  She put her pen down.

  “Are you finished?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Read them to me.”

  She cleared her throat, feeling shy, and read her answers. When she looked up, Luis looked at her with warm affection.

  “I notice you didn’t mention, ‘spanking me to tears’,” he probed.

  She dropped her eyes, hands tangling in her lap. She did not like it when Luis second-guessed himself as the head of household or asked if a punishment was too harsh. She needed him to be in charge. What was she supposed to say, that she enjoyed being spanked to tears? She could admit it was often what she needed, but it was not something she was going to request.

  He put a finger under her chin to lift it.

  She dragged her eyes to meet his gaze. “I like the way you handle me,” she admitted in a small voice. That was as much as she would say on the matter.

  ****

  Claire always grew awkward when he tried to get feedback about the way he disciplined. He understood the embarrassment of it, and also that she might be reluctant to admit a spanking worked.

  “Do you want to hear my answers?”

  She nodded.

  “I feel dominant when you call me ‘sir.’ And I love when you give me your big-eyed look.”

  “This one?” she asked, grinning and making her eyes round and child-like.

  He chucked her cheek. “Esta. And I adore when you play housewife for me—I can feel your love when you cook and take care of our household. And what I’m learning—what I’d like to do better, is help you handle your stress.”

  Claire blushed and blinked back tears. “I think you’ve figured it out,” she mumbled.

  He brushed a strand of her thick brown hair out of her eyes. “I think I’m onto something,” he said.

  She picked up his hand and gave it a quick kiss.

  “Want to go for a walk?”

  “Am I allowed to wear clothes?” she asked, grinning.

  “Hmm,” he said in mock consideration. “I guess so. Just this once.” He gave her a wink.

  They hiked around Taos Mountain, holding hands, enjoying the relative quiet since th
e ski valley had shut down a few weeks prior. The river raged, swollen with the snowmelt, the green shoots of spring sprouting all around. The air was chilly, but the sun was strong and warm at the high altitude.

  When they returned, he took her hand and led her into the living room, in front of the gas fireplace, which he clicked on. He tugged her shirt over her head, cupping her bra-covered breasts in his hands. Running his lips over her neck, he unhooked the undergarment. She shivered when he ran his thumbs across her taut nipples.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  Unbuttoning her jeans, he slid them over her hips, running his hands down her legs as he crouched to help her step out of them. He could hear her breath had already quickened.

  “This is the way I like you. Completely naked.” He ran his hands up and down her sides. “Vulnerable,” he murmured in her ear. “Ready for anything I might like to do to you.”

  Her head dropped back, her thick silky hair brushing his chest.

  “It’s time for your next spanking.”

  She did not tense or catch her breath at all, already aroused.

  “I rather liked that position I had you in after sex this morning,” he said, leading her to sofa, and pulling her to sit on his lap. “Lie with your back down on the couch.”

  She reclined and lifted her legs, holding behind her knees, her pelvis propped on his lap, bottom angled perfectly for his hand. His cock, already hard from undressing her, strained against his trousers. He loved the diaper position for erotic spanking because it was ideal for slapping her pussy at the same time. For a serious punishment with his belt, she hated it. She said her flesh stretched too much to provide any padding, her pussy lay unprotected from the leather and the eye contact while he lectured was unavoidable. He had only punished her in the diaper position once, when he had been truly annoyed with her behavior.

  But this was her light spanking.

  He relished the heady sensation of having her bared bottom and sex so close--even closer than if she were lying across his lap, so close he could smell the scent of her arousal as he began to slap and rub the sting away.

  “My sweet little wife,” he crooned as his hand began to strike with more force, making her jump and gasp. He spoke with love, determined to keep her in the erotic headspace. He spanked until her flesh was red all over, and the color began to hold.

  Placing his hands under her pelvis, he lifted it toward him, lowering his mouth to meet her sex, licking into her, despite the unusual angle. Her ankles wrapped around his head, urging him deeper and he penetrated her with his tongue, then licked and teased the swollen nub of her clit until she moaned with desire.

  “Do not come,” he ordered thickly.

  Her body stilled, her eyes wide and questioning.

  “I’m keeping you hungry until bedtime.”

  “Luis,” she pleaded.

  He gave her several slaps right over her sex. “Who is in charge of you?”

  “You are!” she gasped.

  “Good girl. He repeated the exercise several times—torturing her with his tongue, then spanking hard until they both were groaning with need. Pushing his own desire back, he said, “It’s time for our second assignment.”

  He lowered her pelvis and helped her to swing her legs down and torso up, ignoring her look of disheveled confusion. Handing her the worksheet he’d made for their exercise, he read out loud:

  1. What makes you feel loved by me?

  2. What more could I do to help you feel loved and/or supported?

  3. What ways do you like to show your love?

  4. How can we build on what we have?”

  Claire blinked, as if still dazed from her near-orgasm. He handed her a pen with a wink.

  ****

  “Shall I go first this time?” Luis asked after she had written her answers.

  She stole a glance at him. He radiated nothing but warmth and openness. She had been silly to act so timid about opening up to him before. “Sure.”

  “I already told you how much I appreciate your cooking and cleaning. It makes me feel dominant, but it also makes me feel loved by you. The thing is, querida, I don’t really care about whether the house is spotless and if you hated cooking, I would gladly tie on the apron. But because we’ve agreed these are your chores—to be backed up by spanking—it means you think about me when you do them—and so I feel your love. If you were afraid of me or truly afraid of punishment, I would hate it.

  “Really any act of submission—when you offer yourself to me to be spanked or to be led by a decision, your trust is a sign of love. Every time you submit, I feel honored by you.

  “What I’d like to build on, is understanding my role when you’re stressed. I’d like to know when to give you leeway and when to make you toe the line. Because life throws us curveballs and sometimes you need a break. Sometimes you need help and compassion. But that also seems to backfire.”

  “You’re right,” she said, her words tumbling out in her hurry to meet him. “Just like my submissive acts make you feel loved, your dominant acts do the same for me. I wrote I feel loved when you make and enforce rules, when you notice I’m down, when you take charge.

  “But yeah, letting me off the hook just increases my guilt for failing at my basic responsibilities. When you spank, I get your full attention. You listen to me, you look me in the eye, you try to fix it for me. And sometimes I do just need to have a chance to let it out with a good cry. You were asking earlier about spanking me to tears and I didn’t want to admit it, but yes—I need it. I like it far better than feeling like my life is out of control and I can’t handle it on my own.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “When you take charge of me, I can let go of my worries—all I need to focus on is the simple things, like cooking your dinner and matching your socks.” Her mouth twisted into a wry grin.

  Luis opened his arms and she crawled into his lap, snuggling her head into his shoulder. “You see, sweetheart—we already have so much together. We’re just building upon greatness.”

  His words filled her with warmth.

  “Even if we never had a baby, we would be all right.”

  In a flash, her heart hammered in her chest, her body broke into a cold sweat.

  Never had a baby.

  “Would we?” she whispered, looking at the worst possible outcome full in the face.

  “Yes, mi amor.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. Was he right? She didn’t feel it, but she trusted him. Her own fears could be overwhelming. Luis often had a better understanding of situations—even of her—than she did.

  “Promise?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  He stroked her hair. “I promise, my love. I promise.”

  She burst into tears, sobbing into his neck. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He held her and rocked her until her tears ran out. When they left, a buoyancy filled her chest, as if some great load had been lifted.

  She wiped her face and sat back. “Are you ready for me to make you dinner?”

  Luis smiled. “Sure. Want some help?”

  “Nope.” She grinned. “I have grand plans.”

  “Mmm, I love the sound of that!”

  She got up to make him dinner, both embarrassed and turned on by cooking in the nude. She broiled bacon-wrapped steak with blue cheese crumbles, rosemary potato wedges and fresh cut green beans. She made his favorite salad--herb mix with tomatoes, avocado, red onion, feta cheese, and kalamata olives and served everything with a bottle of red wine, which she left on the table for Luis to open.

  He strolled up behind her in perfect timing, his disheveled hair only making him look more like a GQ model. “Shall I open this?” he asked, picking up the bottle of wine.

  “Yes, please.”

  He popped the cork and poured them each a glass of wine.

  “May I please get dressed for dinner?”

  He considered her, his lips twistin
g up at the corners. “Do you have any other special outfits?”

  She grinned again. “Yep!”

  “Show me,” he conceded, jerking his head in the direction of the bedroom.

  She beamed. “Be right back!” She put on a little black see-through teddy that laced up loosely in the front with matching g-string panties. When she returned, she spun in a circle and gave him an exaggerated curtsy, which she meant to be courtesan-style, but came out more like a ballet reverence. “Does this meet your approval, husband?” she asked in a syrupy-sweet voice, her lashes fluttering.

  Luis’s lips twitched and he crooked his finger at her. “Come here, little wife.”

  She strutted over to him and he caught her by the nipples protruding through the gossamer fabric, using them to pull her closer. She gasped, jumping toward him.

  He cupped her ass, holding one cheek in each hand, kneading them as he made a low growling sound in his throat. Finding the string on the back of her panties, he gave it a tug, tightening the small triangle of fabric across her pussy. She whimpered, standing on her tiptoes.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice roughened. “This will do.”

  She melted against his body, absorbing his heat and masculine hardness.

  “Serve me dinner, woman, before I forget it, altogether.”

  She grinned and peeled herself off him, piling the food onto his plate before getting her own. There were many times when her meals became foreplay--the mouth-watering delicacies serving to stoke their appetites for more gluttony. This was one of those nights. Luis rolled his eyes with pleasure as he chewed, making appreciative noises, claiming he was having a “taste-gasm.”

  He helped her clean the dishes afterward and they watched an action movie sitting so close she was practically on his lap. When it ended, though, she panicked. One spanking left, and it was the “severe” one. She was not in the mood for a severe spanking. Her gut tensed.

  As if he read her mind, Luis gave her a cool look. “Getting nervous for your spanking?”

  “Yes, sir,” she muttered.