by Maggie Ryan
Hazel, of course, just smiled and gleefully bopped him on the head in response.
He fed Hazel, and bathed her, letting Ginger sleep. He needed her to be well rested later. She slept for hours, and he was just beginning to worry when she came downstairs and joined them on the couch where he was feeding Hazel a bottle.
Her eyes were bright, and her ponytail was messy, but to him, she looked beautiful. She flopped happily onto the couch beside him and wiped her eyes, laying her head on his shoulder. “Hi,” she said while yawning.
“Hi, yourself. That was a long nap. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry. Is dinner done?”
“There’s a plate in the fridge. You go eat, and I’ll put Hazel to bed, and then we’re going to have a talk.”
She eyed him wearily. “I know.”
Chapter 12
They sat on the couch in silence. Beau had said they were going to talk, but so far neither one of them had said anything.
“I made a mistake,” he told her gravely, when he finally spoke.
The heaviness in his voice scared her, and she reeled back to look at him, her heart pounding. Why did he sound so ominous? Was this about something different? Had something happened?
She silently questioned him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I should have spanked you for lying to me. I should have never made the decision to stop domestic discipline.”
Ginger was so relieved, she laughed. For a moment there, she had been thinking something completely different. Unable to think of a thing to say in response, she did the next best thing. Launching herself forward, she landed face- down across his lap. She couldn’t send a clearer message than that.
“Mmmmm” he murmured, squeezing her bottom cheek. “I take it you agree?”
She just giggled, wiggling her bottom at him in response. He slapped it playfully, and she moaned in anticipation, steeling herself for more.
“Not so fast, there.” He hauled her up to a sitting position in his lap, and she pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. “There will be time for that, later. I want to talk to you first, and I want to see your face when I do.”
“Couldn’t we just skip the talking and get straight to the fun stuff?” She rubbed against him seductively, her fingers working the buttons on his shirt as she spoke.
“No, we talk first, and if and when I spank you, it’s not going to be for fun.”
“Fine!” she crossed her arms, and fake pouted, but she couldn’t hold back her smile. She waited a beat, for him to continue. “So, talk then.”
“You’re going to talk first,” he told her, cupping her chin in his hands. “You’re going to talk, and I’m going to listen, and when it’s my turn, there’s a very good chance it will be my hand doing my talking for me.”
She wanted to talk, she did, but there was so much to say, it suddenly seemed abundantly overwhelming, and she didn’t know where to start. She sat there with her lips parted, ready to speak, but stayed silent. Beau seemed to understand what she was feeling.
“When did you start having panic attacks, Ginger?” he asked gently, giving her a starting point.
“After the new year, when you went back to work.” She sighed.
Beau raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by her answer, but he let it slide. “How often did it happen?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t regular, or anything. There was no pattern.”
“And you let it go on for months, and it never crossed your mind to mention it to me?”
Uh-oh, that didn’t sound good. “Well, when you put it like that,” she squealed, “it sounds bad!”
“It is bad, Ginger. It’s very bad. I’m your husband, and you didn’t trust me enough to tell me what you were going through. In fact, when I asked you if that might be the problem, you blew me off, and said you were fine.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be. Continue.”
“They weren’t bad, nothing like the last two, and I guess I just didn’t realize how serious it was. It usually was just a feeling, and my chest would hurt, and I would be hyper sensitive for a few minutes, and then it would go away.”
“But you knew you weren’t feeling like yourself, and you should have known that panic attacks could be potentially dangerous under different circumstances. You’re a smart girl, Ginger, I’m sure that fact crossed your mind at some point.”
“Yes,” she admitted, tracing the outline of his shirt pocket with her fingertip.
“Can we talk about why you didn’t tell me? My pride says it’s because you didn’t trust me, but my head and heart tells me that’s not the case.”
“It’s not at all!” she rushed to assure him. “I was ashamed. I always thought being a mom would be so easy, and after everything with the birth especially, I would have thought that the rest would be a walk in the park. Hazel’s not even a difficult baby, so why couldn’t I handle it?” Her voice cracked, and a stray tear made its way down her cheek.
Beau wiped it away with a sad smile. “You know don’t you, that it’s chemical, and it has nothing to do with your abilities to handle motherhood, or anything else.”
Overcome with emotion from voicing the things she had kept inside for so long, all she could do was nod.
“I wish you would have told me, about everything, and when I took spanking off the table, I wish you had told me that that wasn’t going to help.”
“Before, when, we were, um, practicing again,” she whispered, suddenly feeling very shy, “it was better. The rules and lists, and consequences, they helped. I felt normal again, and even when I didn’t, I still felt like I could breathe easier.”
“It gave you the order you were missing. I should have known that. I know you well enough that I should have known that, but you shouldn’t have been afraid to tell me, either.”
“I did argue with you,” she reminded him.
“So you did.” He looked thoughtful. “I believe you said that you lied to me twice, and admitted to it counting as dangerous behavior since you lied about your health. Do you still feel that way?”
Wary of what she might be getting herself into, she bobbed her head up and down in agreement.
Beau nodded also. “Normally, since so much time has passed, I would stand by my earlier decision, out of fairness, but since it was a serious offense, and because I don’t think a free pass is what you want, I’m going to punish you for it now. Are you in agreement?”
She idly wondered what would happen if she said no, but she didn’t really want to. “Yes,” she whispered.
His eyebrow furrowed, and he looked at her expectantly. “Yes, what?”
She gulped, nervously. “Yes, Sir.”
He lifted her off his lap, lowered her to the couch beside him, and stood. “Take off your clothes, and go stand in the corner. I’ll be right back.”
She quickly obeyed, stripping down to stand in only her bra and panties, and crossed to the corner in the room. She had thought that Beau would go upstairs, to fetch their paddle, but oddly, he had turned towards the kitchen for some reason. Turning her nose to the wall, she shrugged. He probably just needed a glass of water or something, or had decided to go easy on her, and use the much smaller, but still very ominous wooden spoon.
He returned from the kitchen, and she could hear him moving around behind her, scooting the coffee table back and bringing in a chair from the dining room. Her stomach clenched, knowing exactly what that would mean for her bottom.
When she thought for sure he was finished, and was going to call her out from the corner, that was when he turned and headed up the stairs. He was only gone for a few minutes, and when he returned, she heard him take a seat on the chair that she knew was now prominently placed in the middle of the living room.
“Turn around, Ginger.”
She turned and gazed at her commanding husband. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine at the very formidable sig
ht he made. The coffee table, having been pushed out of the way to make room for the chair, had been placed beside him, and on it rested the infamous Corbin’s Bend paddle that was given to all new residents in their welcome basket. They had many paddles but that was Beau’s favorite by far for the branding like marks of the Corbin’s Bend logo it left on the recipient’s backside. Beside it, lay his favorite belt, which had been wrapped around his waist only minutes before. The object currently holding her attention, however, was the small sandwich bag dangling from his fingertips. She looked at it, then back at him, questioningly.
He nodded. “I know you know what this is, and what it’s for, don’t you?”
Her breath hitched. She did of course recognize the object, and she was aware of its alternative uses, but it was not something they had ever used in all their years together. He had to be bluffing.
“Answer me, Ginger. What is this, and what is it used for?”
Damn. She swallowed thickly. She had thought that to be a rhetorical question. Her face flamed with embarrassment. “It’s a ginger plug, Sir, and it’s used for…figging.” The last word came out in a low whisper as she stared down at the floor, afraid to look directly at the offending object.
Beau wasn’t about to let her get away with that. “Look at me, Ginger.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze, which was firm, but patient. “Lying is a serious offense, and I will not tolerate it. You lied about your health and well-being, which resulted in dangerous consequences that could have been avoided had you chosen to be open and honest with me.”
She shivered, half from the chill of standing there in her bra and panties and half from the thrill of anticipation. Her body kept betraying her. She shouldn’t be excited by this, but she was.
“I think you’re starting to like being spanked, and while I intend to make very sure that you don’t enjoy this one, the ginger will provide additional punishment, and incentive for you to think very hard before you lie to me in the future. Are we clear, and ready to begin?”
“Yes, Sir.” She was ready. Terrified, and more than a little aroused, but ready to get through it and get it over with.
“Very well.” He patted his knee, motioning for her to get into position. He set the baggie on the table beside the implements, and didn’t pick up either of them. That was good, it meant she would be getting a warm up with his hand.
She moved slowly to him, and with trepidation, lowered herself to lay across his lap, her hands grabbing the bottom rungs of the chair for support. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and in one swift flick of his wrist they came to rest at her ankles.
He covered her bottom with one large hand, and rested it there for a moment. She enjoyed the soft caress, and welcomed it, knowing it would not last for very long. When his hand left her bottom, she braced herself for the first calculated blow.
Smack! It took her breath away. The first and last were always the hardest. She lay still, reminding herself that this was only the beginning, as he began to pepper her backside with a barrage of heavy-handed swats. He never struck the same place twice, sure to warm every inch of skin in preparation for her actual punishment. She never knew where the next swat would land, he followed no pattern. Left, right, top, bottom, left again. She breathed through it, focusing on the reason behind the pain. When he shifted his legs, tilting her so that she was almost nose to nose with the carpet, so he could reach her sit-spot, she knew he was almost finished.
When she was thoroughly warmed, he paused, his hand hovering above her cheeks—the heat test, he called it. She must have passed, because he dropped his hand and began to rub in slow circles.
“You’ll get the paddle and the belt tonight, for the two outright lies you told to me at the clinic last week, but because I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you choose what I will use first.”
She scoffed at this, his idea of being generous, and because there wasn’t really a choice to be made. It was a no brainer. “Paddle first.” She could handle the unforgiving stripes of the belt atop the deeper duller pain of the paddle, but not the other way around.
His hand on her back kept her from falling over as he leaned to fetch the paddle. The cold hard wood kissed her warm bottom, seeming more like friend than foe, but she wouldn’t be fooled, she knew better.
He didn’t give a number to count to or anything to go by. That was always the worst. No gauge to measure, no looking forward to sweet relief. The cool whisper of the wood left her bottom, and she instinctively winced. The paddle came down across the middle of her tender backside with a mighty crack, and pain exploded behind her eyes. She had forgotten how unforgiving wood could be, and how stingy.
Wood met bare skin over, and over again keeping to no pattern in particular as he went to work making sure she was well and truly punished. Some of the swats were light and stingy, almost enjoyable, but just when she began to relax, he would lay down a hard one, right across a tender crease. The ones that fell across the crack of her cheeks were always the worst.
He paused, and she tensed across his lap. Was he finished? CRACK! The paddle came down hard across the bottom of her cheeks, and she bucked against him. Her hands flew back to protect herself from the path of the paddle. Beau calmly moved them, pinning them across her back with one hand. “You will not lie to me again! Each word was punctuated with a hearty spank across the middle of her backside.
It was the words that broke her, it always was, and as soon as he began to speak, the tears began to fall. “I’m sorrrreeee,” she sobbed, falling limp, her fight all gone.
“You will be,” he told her. “Five more. Count them out, and after each one, say ‘I will not lie to my husband.’”
She closed her eyes, and exhaled, waiting for the next blow of the paddle. The crack of wood against her already tender bottom made her scream out in agony. “ONNNEEE, I will not lie to my husband!”
The last word had barely left her mouth before the paddle met its target a second time. “Twwwwooo” she shrieked, her legs kicking up to cover her bottom. “I will not lie to my husband.”
He flattened her legs, and crossed one of his over the top, effectively pinning her in place. She had not an inch of wiggle room. She felt the whoosh of air as his arm drew back and the force of the wind it brought with it on its way down. Crack! The paddle met its mark with a mighty clap that echoed off the walls, and her cry of “Three” was really more of a whimper this time. “I will not lie to my husband!” It was a rushed cry, of words that melted together in her breathless delivery. Her ass was on fire, and she knew it would be flaming hot to the touch, and swollen to boot.
The hard flat wood fell again, this time upon her already very sore and tender sit spots, and she erupted into sobs. She managed, just barely to gurgle out the required statement, and she had no idea if it was coherent in the least bit, but Beau didn’t ask her to repeat it.
The final stroke knocked the wind clear out of her; he sure wasn’t going easy on her at all. She attempted, as soon as it was over to scramble off his lap, but a well-placed hand on the small of her back, and his legs still crossed over hers held her in place. “I’m waiting.”
“F—ivvve,” she cried through her tears. “I will not lie to my husband! I’m sorryyyyy.”
Beau immediately shushed her, murmuring as he rubbed her aching backside. His cool hands felt amazing against the scorched flesh of her very well spanked bottom. His fingers worked the swollen flesh, massaging and caressing, in a way that felt wonderful and horrible simultaneously. When they made their way south to the v between her legs, she stiffened. To her abject horror and utter amazement, she was dripping wet. Beau noticed at the same time she did, his fingers squeezing her swollen nub. “Oh, wow, baby, your pussy is so wet for me. Someone enjoyed her spanking a little too much it looks like.”
She whimpered in response, and pushed against his fingers, her body instinctively seeking the release it craved. He tsked, clicking his tongue at her and withdre
w his fingers, before tapping her bottom with the flat of his hand. “Not yet, baby. Maybe later if you’re a good girl for the rest of your punishment.”
Ginger moaned softly, grinding her body against his lap. As she felt his rock hard erection pressing into her stomach, for a minute, she entertained the idea that her feminine wiles might be successful in distracting him from carrying out the rest of her punishment.
She should have known better. In no less than sixty seconds flat, he had released her from his hold, and pulled her into a standing position in front of him.
Standing there naked, except for her bra, she knew it was not only her bottom that was red as his hot gaze raked over every inch of her nearly naked body.
He stood, and grasped her shoulders, placing her in front of the chair, facing away from him. She hated this position with a passion. As she bent over and grabbed hold of the back of the chair for support, she knew he had a clear and unobstructed view of her private lady bits. He tapped her inner thigh, and she spread her legs further apart, obediently, flushing to the roots of her hair as she did so.
In this position, she had a clear view of the implements on the table in front of her. When Beau reached over, she expected him to go for the belt. He picked up the baggie that held the ginger root plug instead and her heart dropped to her stomach. Still bent awkwardly over the chair, she closed her eyes and lay her head across her hands. His large hands cupped her bottom, pulling her clenched cheeks apart. He penetrated her private hole with his finger, readying her for what was soon to come. Equal parts shame and lust overwhelmed her. She was about to be anally punished, and the idea while terrifying was also titillating. Ginger had never had anything more than his finger inside of her there, and she wondered if he would want to take her anally when he was finished with her. Her cheeks flamed, where were these naughty thoughts coming from?
Beau’s voice was hard and gruff, breaking her from her fantasies and dragging her back into an equally fascinating reality. “Hold your cheeks open for me. I’m going to insert this plug into your tight ass, and then I’m going to whip you with my belt, because that is the punishment for naughty girls who lie to their husbands.”