“I suppose you’re right, I’m just out of sorts with the move, and the court case, too, I guess.”
“You’ll figure out your own path it time. Just watch the others around you. See if you think the wives or subs aren’t respected. Most of them would tell you they feel cherished and taken care of, regardless of which path they follow. Of course everyone will tell you the way they do it is the only way. Don’t listen to them; the only way to live is what enriches you as a couple, not what works for someone else. What you need to worry about now is getting this place organized and making it feel like a home and I’m here to help. The sooner you do that, the sooner you can settle in and start to meet people.”
“You’re right. Thanks, Maeve. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me.”
“You’ve had a hard time, you need to let it all go, and start over. Now, show me where you want me to put things, and we’ll see if we can’t get this place all nice and homey.”
Another couple of hours saw the floor cleared, with most things in their rightful place. Ange knew it would take weeks for it to feel like home, but for now de-cluttered was good. The two were just sitting down to coffee at the kitchen island when the door opened.
“Mammy, Mammy, there’s a playground here,” Ava shouted as she ran in, closely followed by Jack and Jim. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Maeve, momentary shyness stealing her tongue.
“A playground? Well, that’s great news, Ava. Come say hello to Maeve.”
The two children shook hands politely when told, but weren’t being conned into letting a stranger hug them under any circumstances.
“Wait ‘til you see, they’re not usually this quiet,” Jim said. “You should have heard them roaring on the swings. Any coffee in the pot or did you find the tea yet?”
“I did, I’ll wet a pot now.” Ange rose from her high stool and put on the kettle. Sure, he was perfectly capable of making a pot of tea for himself, but it was her peace offering. The mess was sorted, she felt better after talking to Maeve and Ange really did want this to be a fresh start for them. It was just that they had become used to sniping rather than pulling together. Sometimes the jibe was out of her mouth before she knew it or even tried to come up with a more reasonable answer.
“I saw a restaurant in my travels, Endelé. Is it any good, Maeve? I doubt you feel like a trip to Denver after all that work, Ange. I didn’t expect you to be finished.”
“No, but I bet you hoped!” Ange muttered, immediately forgetting her resolution to try harder. Maeve cut in, diffusing the tension.
“Endelé is very good, as are all the restaurants, but you should meet Bernie, she owns Endelé and is like a guardian angel to all the new wives who move in, and she won’t be happy ‘til she knows you. And speaking of dinner, I’d better go make Joe’s. Great to meet you kids. And you two, again.”
“Thanks so much for all your help, Maeve. I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.”
“You can count on it.”
*****
As the children’s routine was all over the place from travelling, they opted for an early dinner, before they started to get cranky. A woman of around sixty approached them with a broad smile on her face as they entered the restaurant.
“No need to ask, you must be the new Irish family I’ve been hearing so much about. Welcome to Endelé. Aren’t they gorgeous?” she cooed, lightly pinching Jack’s thigh as he was held in his father’s arms. Jack tucked his face into his father’s shoulders hiding from her attentions.
“I’m Jim and this is my wife, Ange.” Jim offered his hand. “Is it possible to get a table, and do you mind children?”
“My guests prefer no children after nine, but it’s early and you’ll be long finished by then. Besides, I am just dying to get to know you,” Bernie enthused.
Ange couldn’t help but smile. Maeve had been on the ball. They played twenty questions in between reading the menu and ordering the food as Bernie gleaned as much information as she could drag out of the reticent pair, returning them to a unified team for the first time since morning; a case of us against her, answering her questions with questions, sneaking little grins at one another as Bernie was way too obvious in her thirst for information. Ange and Jim weren’t quite ready to share their life story yet. It seemed really odd having been almost hounded out of one community because of their kink, to be living somewhere that spanking was discussed as one might discuss the latest movie release. As they tucked into their dishes of chili, picadillo and fajita’s the frost from earlier gradually disappeared and by the time they went home, it was as good as forgotten. When the children were sound asleep Ange sat beside Jim on the sofa. He pulled her in close, lightly twirling her hair at the base of her neck around his finger, and stroking her neck.
“It’s a new start, Ange. We nearly lost ourselves in the pandemonium of the court case. When everything went wrong we stopped talking and playing and then we sort of lost us. Come here and lay across my lap, I’ll show you what I mean.” His voice was gentle and coaxing and Ange slipped across his lap. She felt his hands shimmy up her thighs, raising the full skirt of her dress as he went, bunching it just at the small of her back as he kneaded her bottom with firm, sure hands. She melted into his caress. There was no denying it, that felt good, she thought as the troubles of the day seemed to slip away.
“Go fetch the wooden spoon,” Jim said.
“Jim, please, not tonight. I’m not in the mood,” Ange replied. Even when she was weak with desire for it, she tended to try to avoid any spankings she didn’t initiate. Even when she thought she was being submissive, she liked to call the shots. She felt his hand land with an almighty thwack right across the center of her bottom.
“It’s not an offer, Ange. Get it or I’ll fuck you up the ass, no lube.” She caught her breath, with those words she was putty in his hands. Not that she objected to being taken that way – the very threat just did things to her, made her weak with desire. Her clitoris leapt, as it responded against her very will to dominant Jim. His hand came down again with a loud crack, and once again, even as she rose to follow his instructions, sending her dress flouncing down with a gust of cool air around her stinging bottom.
She handed the implement to him with a tremble, her nervous excitement mounting. When he was in this mood there was no telling where it might take them, but it was sure to be memorable.
“Kneel down, face on the couch, hands holding onto the back of the cushion,” he ordered. She felt him tuck the skirt into the belt of her dress. He pulled her panties down, leaving them twisted just above her knees.
“I want you to be a really good girl, hold very still and no shouting out in case you wake the children. If you shout out I’ll have to gag you. If you jump up or cover up, I start over. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Jim,” Ange whimpered, now entirely caught in the moment.
“Pardon?” he snapped, cracking the spoon down on her taut round buttocks.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Better. Now fifty for starters, and if you’re a good girl, that’ll be all.”
She was already a trembling mess and he hadn’t even started. She never could understand how someone tough as old boots as she was crumbled into this soft little cissy as soon as he adopted a certain tone. Or even stranger, why the hell she liked it so; why it felt so good to give into her soppy, vulnerable side that she normally was at pains to keep hidden, even from her husband. She felt the smooth, cool wood caressing her cheeks and shivered in anticipation.
“Open your legs,” he barked and as she did, he smacked upwards between them with the wooden spoon. “A reminder to keep them open,” he said as she bucked and yelped in protest. “Now move again and your fifty becomes a hundred.”
He started spanking, left, right, moving up and down in rapid succession, stinging her behind with each cruel kiss of the wood. Ange gritted her teeth and fought her urge to move, or close her legs as she mentally kept count as far as thirty when to her
surprise he stopped.
“Who’s the boss now, Ange?” Jim asked.
“Y-you are,” she answered.
Whack. She bucked.
“Christ, that really hurt, too hard…” she complained.
“Quit your nagging.” Whack. Again just as hard. “Who is the boss? I’m waiting.”
“You are, Sir.”
“Yes, and don’t you forget it. While we’re at it, what about the sulks earlier? And the disrespectful language?” He whopped down just as hard but six times in quick succession.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“So why was that so hard to acknowledge earlier? Why do you have to push it every time?”
“I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like being pig-headed,” Ange said quietly.
“Exactly, I’m adding an extra ten for that.”
“No, you can’t that’s not how we work,” Ange protested as he brought the spoon down hard again.
“Are you in any position to argue?”
“N-no, Sir.” He continued spanking full force until he came to the end of the original fifty smacks, then he stopped and soothed her burning skin by rubbing it tenderly, while still holding her in position. Ange moaned in pleasure as her body soaked up the attention; arching her hips to meet his hand, purring to his touch. He let his hands drop between her legs, slipping to and fro easily on the moist, swollen lips as she thrust her hips greedily towards him.
“Does that feel good?” he whispered, penetrating her hungry, wet cleft with two fingers.
“Mm, yes,” she groaned. He continued massaging her clit with his palm as he thrust his fingers in and out rapidly. She was almost embarrassed with the sloshy sounds of her arousal. Her body was tensing, gathering tightly, ready to explode.
“I’d love to pleasure you, Ange, really I would, but there is a little matter of your attitude to be dealt with yet.” At that, he pulled his hand away from her pulsating pussy.
The withdrawal of the pleasure was more of a punishment than the earlier spanking had been. Ange was near to tears, something he hadn’t achieved even with the fiercest spanks. At last, she was ready to listen, to feel contrite.
“Are you ready for your final punishment?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Lie on your back and open your legs.”
“Why, what are you going to do?” Realization dawned on her; he was going to punish her pussy. A trill of fear jolted through her. “No, please don’t, not there.”
“Ange, do it, don’t make me force you. Be a good girl, and after your punishment, you’ll get your pleasure.”
Reluctantly she turned around and positioned herself as he asked. He pulled her legs wider apart, and handed her a cushion to bite into to muffle any sounds she might be unable to avoid. He knelt on the floor between her legs, kissed her swollen labia, lightly flicking his tongue over her engorged clitoris. She shivered. He drew back and brought his hand down hard. Ange swore into the cushion with a high pitched shriek, thankfully muffled by the plush. Her hips bucked under her. Jim pushed her back into position, gently but firmly. As she quietened, he repeated it. Tears pricked her eyes as he repeated it over and over, allowing enough time between each spank for the sting to just subside before smacking down again. After each time he brought his hand down, she instinctively bucked and closed her legs tight. Only the threat of tying her legs apart and adding more convinced her to open them again. Her clit throbbed and stung. By the time the full sentence had been carried out she was sobbing, begging mercy. But in spite of her tears, her body was relaxed and supplicant, ready to receive his pleasure. Her feminine juices were tricking down between the crack in her bottom cheeks. Her clit was ready to explode with pleasure, induced by the earlier pain as Jim soothed it with soft feather light touches.
“Hush, baby, you did very well, it’s over, all done. Good girl. I’ll kiss it all better now.” Jim’s voice was soft and tender as if speaking to one of the children after they had taken a tumble and grazed their knee. Ange felt comfort envelope her.
He placed his head back between her legs and soothed her scorched lady lips with moist tender licks, murmuring his appreciation of the delicious taste of her nectar. Ange whimpered in pleasure as his tongue probed into her core, thrusting and tasting greedily. Her hips rocked in unison as she opened her body to receive his welcome ministrations. The tension in her muscles rose again. Her clit was seemed to be more alive than it had ever been before and within minutes her body convulsed into the most intense orgasm as her hips jerked and knees clenched under his commanding tongue.
“On your knees, woman. Show me how sorry you are,” he ordered, unzipping his fly and releasing his rock hard cock. Ange quickly obeyed, eager to savor the droplet of moisture that was already dribbling from his engorged dick. She took it hungrily, as a woman starved of a good meal for days, swallowing deeply, causing him to cry out in ecstasy. Ange took him deep into her throat, rolling her tongue around as much of his thick shaft as she could manage, sucking hard, and intermittently nipping lightly . She could tell from the thickness of girth that he was very near release. She cupped his balls in her hands, applying a gentle kneading pressure as she sucked. She could feel a tingling sensation through his shaft and she prepared to welcome his hot, musky cum in her grateful, waiting mouth.
Chapter Four
Ange smiled sleepily at Jim as he woke her with a coffee. Back in the days when the children were babies and she had been breastfeeding he had started this custom of waking her with breakfast, and later once she had finished breastfeeding, just a coffee. He knew how she treasured the few precious moments of peace before the kids descended on top of her, all hell breaking loose. He especially loved those mornings when she had that nice, soft, feminine look. More often than not it was as a result of a good spanking.
The first time Jim had ever heard of taken in hand relationships was when Ange explained Corbin’s Bend to him and since then he had done some research of his own. He couldn’t help think it would benefit them. When Ange got worked up, more often than not, she pushed him to boiling point. He knew she was testing him. His usual strategy was to walk away until he had calmed down, but too often lately, he found himself biting back. They had fallen into a habit of sniping and snapping, and he wanted to call a halt.
He wasn’t denying that he would be the main beneficiary, but Ange would benefit, too: He had become used to letting her control the house. Worry about due dates for bills. Organize the childcare. Make sure the house was fully supplied with whatever was needed. Even, to his shame, when he was really busy at work, he had stood back and watched Ange organize maintenance jobs done on the house by other builders, when that was his line of business and should have been his responsibility. When the good times were rolling, he had often worked a thirteen or fourteen hour day and he had simply been grateful for such an efficient wife.
Until Jack was born he hadn’t even thought that life could be any other way. It just seemed to him that women were naturals at running a house, always thinking ahead of what needed doing. After Jack’s birth, Ange had let things slip, but Jim understood that a premature and sickly baby was incredibly time consuming. For a little while, he’d taken over bill payments etc., but only because he’d seen so many final reminders and he was afraid of the power being shut off, or judgments being taken out against them.
Jim lay on the bed beside her as Ange came to, quietly contemplating the last few years. He’d been lucky, not only did he get into construction at the right time, but thanks to a tip off from a smart man who had lived through previous property bubbles, Jim had made sure that his final project was completed before the whole damn economy had imploded and he walked away with nice gains, unlike the majority of his colleagues who had simply ploughed their profits into the next doomed project. In the past few years, instead of building big, unwanted ghost estates, Jim had switched his portfolio to one off extensions and although it was a struggle in terms of man-hours, he still managed to turn in a profit
until the last two years. He was wise enough not to throw good money after bad, and eased up only taking on small jobs that required no man power, save his own.
The upshot was Jim had spent much more time at home. It had been opportune timing as it was when Ange was wrapped up in the court case and was completely out of sorts again, like she had been after the birth. Their home help had retired by then and Ange really needed support with the children and managing the household. It was only then that he realized how much she had been coping alone, even when she’d been working full time.
While he had no doubt she would return to her super-efficient self, he was determined to be there for her more. He was also one hundred per cent certain he would never permit her to become so self-reliant again. Through the darkest days of their hell, she rarely talked to him about how she felt and carried her burden singlehandedly. Now he realized this was as much his fault as hers as during the ten years of their marriage, he had been happy to have it so: Work had given him as much pressure as he could take. She had been his rock for years, now he wanted to step up to the plate and be hers. Jim could finally see how much she needed him, even if Ange couldn’t.
Halfway through the mug of coffee, she was beginning to appear human again. She gingerly shifted her position and he had a momentary pang of guilt. Sometimes he forgot just how strong he was in the heat of the moment, and after what had happened with Jack, he liked to be sure he hadn’t gone too far.
“Are you sore, love?”
“Mm-hmm, but the nice kind, don’t worry. I enjoyed last night.”
“Me, too, very much. Do you think you’re up to a bit of exploring today?”
“Definitely, I want to go into Denver and do a big shop. If I don’t stock up that kitchen, I’m going to go nuts. How can I cook without all my herbs, spices and stuff, and if we can find the right flour, I’d kill for soup and brown bread.”
Exile to Unity Page 3