by Maggie Ryan
Ginger couldn’t deny that the thought of a maintenance spanking tonight had curbed the anxiety that had been threatening to spill over. Just like she couldn’t deny the tingle of anticipation his announcement had sent to her private parts.
The evening dragged on for both of them, the sexual tension between them like static electricity in the air. Beau hoped he was doing the right thing. Ginger’s emotional state these days seemed fragile, and uneven. Although he had to admit, that this seemed to be helping. She was responding to him in a whole new way, and it was a real turn on, he hoped, for both of them.
They stumbled their way through dinner, making small talk about their days, each of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, it was eight, and Hazel was winding down for the evening. Ginger had been watching the clock, and as soon as the little hand hit the eight, she started for the stairs. He stopped her. “Why don’t I put her to bed this time? You can take a shower and relax. Have a glass of wine and get ready for me.”
She wanted to argue. He could see it in her face. Her mouth dropped open, and she held Hazel tight to her chest. “It’s no trouble, I can do it.” He watched her carefully, her eyes were almost panicked as he held out his arms for their daughter.
“You do it every night. I can take care of her tonight. You go relax.” He reached out and took Hazel. She let him, grudgingly.
“Go,” he told her, pointing towards the kitchen, as he started up the stairs to the nursery, watching carefully to make sure she obeyed. He didn’t want to have to force the issue, but Hazel was his daughter too, and him putting her to bed every once in a while should be a break for Ginger, not a power struggle.
Hazel accepted the change in routine without a fuss, and was soon sleeping soundly in her crib. Beau tiptoed softly down the hall and into his bedroom where he found Ginger pacing the floor.
“Is she asleep? Did she go down okay? Do you need me to do it?”
Beau stared at her, aghast. Is this what she had been doing instead of relaxing? Pacing the floor and working herself into a tizzy, certain that he couldn’t take control of the simplest task when it came to caring for their daughter?
He was astounded to see that she looked near tears. He crossed the room to her in two long strides and gathered her into his arms, concerned. “Ginger, she’s fine. She’s asleep. Do you really think I’m that incapable of taking care of her?”
Her face fell, her lips quivering as a tear fell from the corner of her eye, leaving a black mascara streak down her cheek in its path.
“It’s not that, it’s just…Oh, Beau, I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. Everything is a mess, and my moods are all over the place.”
Beau’s chest tightened in concern. Had he missed something big? He had chalked it all up to the stress and her control issues. Was it bigger than that?
“Honey, do you think, maybe, you could be having too much trouble adjusting? Do we need to make an appointment? Maybe get you in to see Marcus?”
“No!” she cried, her hand flying up to cover her mouth before correcting herself. “I mean, no, no, I’m fine. I’ll work on it, I promise.”
Beau wasn’t convinced. She must have seen that, because she started pleading with him.
“Beau, really, I’m fine, and this? This new thing you’re doing? It’s helping, it really is. I just got worried for a moment. And jealous, maybe. I love taking care of Hazel, and I want to do it all myself. I’ll work on it, I swear. Please, Beau, I’m sorry. Can we just move on from it? Will you spank me now?” Her tears had stopped, but her lip quivered as she asked the last question, and she looked so sweet and submissive, he couldn’t have said no if he wanted to.
He didn’t want to. He was so hard that wearing pants was painful, a fact he planned to rectify as soon as possible. He stared intently into her eyes. The nervousness and fear that had been there only minutes before were gone, having been replaced with what could only be described as pure desire and anticipation of what was to come.
He swallowed thickly past the lump lodged in his throat. “Are you sure?”
She gave a quick nod of her head, looking straight into his eyes, waiting for instruction.
“Take off your clothes.” He quickly shed his own until all he had on was a t-shirt and boxers. Ginger did the same, shedding clothing until she stood before him in only her bra and panties.
She licked her lips nervously. “Where do you want me?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap, gesturing to her that this would be an otk meeting. She quickly made her way over to him and let him guide her into position across his lap. Her whole body shivered, delicious little tremors that spelled out her need for him and for his correction. They had done maintenance hundreds of times before, but this time felt different.
In the past, there had always been a lecture, and it usually began with her learning to control her temper and ended with her need to relax, and not take her stress out on everyone around her. This time, he didn’t speak at all.
This spanking was a ritual, a clear defining of their new roles, and no words were needed. His hand did all the talking for him, each swat slow and deliberate. He took great pleasure in the slap of skin against skin, and the way her bottom flattened and bounced under his palm as her white skin began to glow pink from his correction. It wasn’t a hard spanking, or a terribly serious one. Its main goal being to remind and reconnect. He carefully and methodically peppered her backside with stinging spanks with his flattened hand until every inch from dimple to the tops of her thighs were a perfect shade of pink, and he could feel the heat radiating off her fleshy globes. He paid careful attention to her sit spots, the crease where bottom met thigh. He wanted them to be considerably more stingy than the rest of her bottom tomorrow, so she would think of him every time she sat down.
Ginger was also silent throughout the spanking, save for a few low cries when he struck her most tender spots. She lay flat against his lap, occasionally pushing her bottom towards him to signal her need for more. He would give her exactly what she needed. Nothing more, and nothing less.
When her backside was tinged a dark pink, and quiet tears began to stain his slacks, he knew they were finally through. He pulled her up and into his arms, and when she was thoroughly comforted by his embrace, he began to comfort her in other, more inventive ways.
Chapter 8
In the weeks that followed, Ginger developed a routine that worked nicely with the new rules that Beau had put into place. She got up early and got ready before Hazel was even awake. She had figured out if she started her day early enough, she could go in to work while the place was still closed for business and get at least an hour of work in, sometimes two, before they opened up for lunch. It gave Laney a little bit of extra time in the morning for wedding related stuff, and kept her from having to deal with the crowds or the general public. Her work had always been the behind the scenes stuff anyways. She filed invoices, and paid suppliers, did payroll, and took inventory. It didn’t matter when it got done, as long as it got done, and Beau was none the wiser as to the reason why. She was always home by eleven, just in time for a quick nap with Hazel before starting on whatever tasks Beau had given her for the day.
As much as she hated to admit it, their new way of doing DD had gone a long way towards easing the anxiety she had been having. Having a set list of things to tackle each day was keeping her from feeling too overwhelmed by the reality of motherhood. More often than not, she was able to accomplish a lot more than what was expected of her, and if she didn’t, she wasn’t wasting time and energy beating herself up over it.
The panic attacks, as she was now willing to admit that that is what they were, were coming few and far between, often happening in the mornings when she had to go in to work. As she was usually alone, no one knew about them, and they had been more anxiety attacks than full-fledged panic attacks, anyway. A few times, she had felt an attack bubbling just below the surface, but when
she was home, Beau watched her like a hawk and seemed very in tune to her emotions, often doing or saying just the right thing to help her feel like a normal person again, and the panic would pass without ever fully coming to the surface.
It was amazing to her, the ways that her husband had stepped up and taken the lead in their home, given half a chance. He seemed to know just when to push her harder, and when to give her a break. Beau was excellent at reading her signals, and knowing when a spanking was needed, or when something else would do. It was a shame, she realized, that she had never given him enough credit or trust to truly submit, until now. Her husband was proving to be an excellent HoH.
And inventive too, often finding some way to cool her off before it ever got to a point where a spanking was needed. Not that they were lacking in spankings. They had both discovered a new love for an activity that up until now, had only served one purpose. Maintenance spankings, reminder spankings, and funishment spankings were plenty, though she still had yet to experience a true discipline spanking, now that she had crossed over to the spanko side, she thought with a giggle.
Today was Saturday, and she had a break from going into the shop. Beau had gone out to run errands, leaving her and Hazel home to their own devices. The day loomed long and open in front of her, filled with possibility.
She tinkered around the house for a while, straightening up around her without doing any real strenuous housework, and made an early lunch for her and Hazel. She had just settled down to rock Hazel to sleep and watch a movie on Netflix, when her phone rang. A quick glance at the screen told her it was Laney calling from the shop. She frowned. Laney wasn’t supposed to be working today. She had gone with Josiah to visit his family. It was a long trip, and they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night.
“Hello? Laney?”
“Ginger, it’s Amber.” Amber was a young newcomer they had hired when she had gone on maternity leave. Fresh out of college, the Japanese American woman had a degree in business management, but thanks to her upbringing, she was also a master sushi chef.
“Amber, what’s up?” Ginger was instantly on guard. The voice on the other end of the line sounded panicked.
“There’s a ton of people here, at least fifty. It’s like, an anniversary or something. I’m not really sure, but there’s no way I can handle this all by myself. I can’t make the sushi and deal with everyone at the same time. You have to come in! I’m really sorry, I don’t know what else to do!”
Ginger had a moment of panic, her eyes darting around the room as she thought frantically, hoping for an alternative but finding none. She was terrible at making sushi but at least she could work the cash register and serve people, and do whatever else Amber needed her to do.
“Okay, don’t panic. I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and frowned at Hazel. “I don’t know where Daddy is, but I can’t take you with me.”
Seeing no other options, she placed a call to her mentor, Rose Rolson, who had been itching for a chance to babysit.
“Bring her right over!” Rose said, making Ginger inherently grateful for the close proximity of her neighbors. The Rolsons lived about ten houses down on the opposite side of the street.
It took Ginger exactly three and a half minutes to get to the Rolsons, and another three minutes to say goodbye to Hazel. She had never left her daughter with anyone before, not even Beau.
She forced down the wave of nausea and fought the tunnel vision, thankful for the short drive she knew by heart, but nothing could have prepared her for the scene at The Ginger Paddle.
Cars filled the parking lot and lined the street, and the inside of the small café was down to standing room only, with several metal chairs having been dragged out from the office and pulled alongside the small booths and bistro tables scattered throughout. Fifty people was a gross underestimate, And Ginger wondered if they were breaking the Fire Marshall’s maximum occupancy allowance which was only eighty people.
Several people called out a greeting as she entered, and she knew everyone there, but the faces blurred, swimming in front of her like a gurgling ocean ready to swallow her whole. Pushing her way through the crowd, Ginger forced herself to breathe through the pain gripping her chest. She set her eyes on the counter, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other until she was standing behind it. She didn’t stop to chat with Amber, there was no time. A line was forming out the door.
Taking order after order, Ginger, refused to glance up from the cash register and into the sea of people. If she could have entered the orders with her eyes closed, she would have.
The first dozen or so orders were easy enough to get through. She didn’t recognize the voices, and they didn’t stop and try to chat with her, anxious to get their orders in and keep the line moving. For that Ginger was grateful.
The noise level in the dining area was deafening and constant, a rumble of incessant white noise, and the clatter of plates and chopsticks. Even the laughter was grating, the walls seemed to be closing in on her.
“Ginger? Ginger? Are you all right?”
She forced herself to look up, and found herself staring into the concerned face of Dr. Marcus Devon. Bile rose in her throat at the swift movement, and she swayed, her extremities numb. She tried to focus on just him, and not the sea of faces beyond him, but it was too late. She shouldn’t have looked up. She couldn’t feel her legs, and when she looked down at the cash register, her hands were shaking across the keys. Everything went black, and she was aware of her body sliding onto the floor, and the sound of Amber screaming from the kitchen behind her.
Ginger and Hazel weren’t home when Beau got back from running errands, but he didn’t think much of it. He quickly unloaded the bags of groceries from the car and set to work putting them away, humming to himself as he worked.
He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was still a little worried about his wife. Things were great between them, better than ever in his opinion, but Ginger didn’t seem quite like herself. She hadn’t, as he liked to say, gotten “her ginger up” in some time, and he found that slightly worrisome, but maybe it wasn’t, he reminded himself. Maybe a calmer Ginger was just part of their new normal they were making.
“Don’t borrow trouble, Beau,” he muttered to himself as he stacked cans of vegetables in the pantry. He should be ecstatic. Things were going well between them, and he didn’t think he had ever been happier. Truly leading in his home, he realized, was a very new thing for them, and it had opened up their relationship to a whole new level. They communicated better, and their relationship had an intimacy that had never been there before. Not to mention, the sex was mind-blowing.
And, Beau thought, digging in the last grocery bag until he found what he was looking for, it could be getting even more so. He wrapped his hand around the oddly shaped root with a triumphant smile. Ginger, if they tried it, would be a new experience for them. It had been off the table previously, but then, so had a lot of things that she no longer seemed to take exception to.
He wanted to try it, but if she wasn’t up for it, he would just make some Thai food. As far as he was concerned, it was a win-win situation. He couldn’t go wrong either way.
He put the vegetables away, taking care to hide the ginger in the very back of the crisper. Was he supposed to refrigerate it at all? He honestly didn’t know.
With a shrug, he left it and began to clean up the kitchen mess. Ginger must have been home not too long ago, because she had obviously eaten lunch here. The mayonnaise was still out on the counter, and a half of a sandwich sat on the dining table with a glass of water and a banana peel.
Ginger was a bit of a neat freak, and it was unlike her to leave dishes lying around after a meal, but then, a lot had changed. He was more than happy to take the bad with the good. He cleaned up happily, and was just getting ready to make his own lunch when the phone rang.
“Ginger! Oh my god!”
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
&nb
sp; “Can you hear me?”
These were the things she heard as she lay on the cold tile floor behind the counter. A litany of concerned questioners who were obviously extremely close by, and the persistent buzz of the crowd behind them, which if possible, had gotten even louder than before.
She didn’t want to open her eyes. Didn’t want to face the knowing gaze of Dr. Devon or the concerned onlookers. She just wanted to sink into the floor and disappear and be magically transported to the comfort of her own bed. She just wanted her baby, and her husband, and—Oh god! Beau! They would call Beau for sure!
She didn’t want that to happen. She wasn’t sure she could take it if he saw her like this. She forced her eyes open, looking straight into the dark and confused gaze of the man in question. Well, crap. How did that happen so fast? Had he already been here, and she hadn’t noticed or had she been on the floor a lot longer than she thought? She thought it had only been a few minutes while she got her bearings, but then again, it would only take him a few minutes to get there from home.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” she hurriedly asserted, struggling to pull herself into a sitting position.
Beau immediately had his arms around her, coming to her aid and making space in the crowd behind them. She forced herself to her feet, leaning heavily on Beau’s arm for support. Her knees were shaking, and her legs had all the strength of a bowl of Jello.
“Are you all right? Can you stand? Do you want me to carry you?”
“I’m fine!” She wrenched from his grasp and turned, positioning herself in front of the cash register, bracing herself against the counter to keep her legs from falling out from under her.
“Who’s next?” Her voice rang into the crowd, but nobody approached. To her dismay, they all stepped backwards instead. “C’mon people, let’s get this line moving! I haven’t got all day!” To her horror, her voice cracked on the last word.