Ginger Up

by Rayanna Jamison

  Ginger Up

  Corbin’s Bend, Season Three

  By

  Rayanna Jamison

  Copyright 2015 Blushing Books and Rayanna Jamison

  Published by Blushing Books at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  The trademark Blushing Books®

  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Jamison, Rayanna

  Ginger Up

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-909-1

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Blushing Books

  Chapter One

  For a man with a brand new baby at home, Beau Davies was in no hurry to get there. As Vice Principal of Corbin’s Bend Middle School, there was always work to be done, and a reason to stay late if he was looking for one.

  He was.

  It was the first day back after Spring Break, and for the first time ever in his life, he was almost dreading going home. His gut clenched with guilt at the realization of this ugly truth. He glanced at the clock and frowned. He would stay just one more hour, and he would pick up dinner from Endelé on the way home. There really was quite a bit of work to catch up on, and six o’clock was a reasonable hour to get home, even if school got out at three.

  Besides, he reasoned with himself, with the break, he had just spent nine straight days at home, for all the good it had done. His marriage was more strained than ever, and Ginger was so obsessed with taking care of their baby daughter, Hazel, he couldn’t help even if he wanted to. She wouldn’t let him.

  He apparently was totally inept when it came to taking care of a baby. Never mind the fact that he was the oldest of seven children whose parents had basically considered him to be their built in babysitter from the time he was ten until the day he left for college. Never mind that he had degrees in childhood education, or even, most simply of all, that he was Hazel’s father. According to his wife, he didn’t burp her right, didn’t change her diaper right, didn’t know the correct way to put her to sleep, Hell, according to Ginger, he didn’t even hold her right!

  It seemed that no one was at all capable at caring for baby Hazel, except for Ginger herself. And that’s what she did. All day, every day. It had gotten to the point where she did little else. And that was the most worrisome of all.

  Ginger was a control freak. She always had been, and he loved it about her, and he had always known what to do when her overbearing ways became too much. After all, they lived in Corbin’s Bend. When his little control freak became too much to handle, he simply flipped her over his knee and put an end to her nonsense with a long, hard spanking. It was The Corbin’s Bend way.

  To an outsider, such an idea might seem crazy, or archaic, but Domestic Discipline had always been a part of their relationship, and it was the reason they had moved here when they decided they were ready to start a family. Corbin’s Bend was an exclusive co-op community that catered to spankophiles. Here they were no different than anyone else, and everyone practiced spanking in their relationship in some form or another. When you moved in, you were even assigned a mentor to help you acclimate to the community and help you navigate troubles within the lifestyle, if you needed it. So far, Beau never had, and his relationship with his mentor had been a superficial one.

  That last thought had him stopping to consider. Maybe it was time to change that. His mentor, Jason Rolson, was an older man in his early seventies, with decades of experience living in a DD relationship, probably even had special insight into the type of thing Beau and Ginger were going through. Even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

  Beau felt bad that he hadn’t really asked the older man for help with anything DD related up to this point, but he truly hadn’t needed to. Ginger had always been so in control of everything, their home and lives had run like a well-oiled machine. Unlike some couples in Corbin’s Bend, who had to use a spanking to enforce anything from an eye roll, to a messy house, to a speeding ticket, they had almost never used it for anything but Ginger’s controlling attitude.

  And now, well, he most certainly still needed it for that, but he was coming to the realization that their DD relationship was at a point where it was in need of a complete overhaul. They were beyond simply dealing with control issues. His once on top of every little thing wife was a complete wreck, and it didn’t seem to be getting better. To further complicate things, they had been on a break from domestic discipline for almost six months.

  It had been doctor’s orders, and after several miscarriages, and many unsuccessful pregnancy attempts, they would have agreed to anything to ensure that this pregnancy went smoothly. And it had, up until the end. In the eighth month of her pregnancy Ginger had developed preeclampsia and been put on bed-rest. Dr. Devon had forbidden them to engage in any spanking related activities, encouraging them to try nonphysical punishments such as writing lines, and loss of privileges. They had dutifully given it a shot, but neither of those things had a positive impact, and they had agreed to take a break until after the baby was born.

  It hadn’t mattered anyway. Bed rest had come too late, and had only lasted just over a week before Ginger went into premature labor. Hazel was born November nineteenth at only thirty-three weeks, and the difficult birth had almost killed both mother and child.

  Ginger had spent over a week in the hospital afterward, and Hazel had spent three. By the time they both made it home, Beau was just so happy to have them both on the mend, DD had become a distant memory.

  Once again, Dr. Devon had stressed the importance of keeping their rules on track with alternate forms of punishment, but this time they hadn’t even listened. It just wasn’t a blip on their radar at that point, and Ginger was so frail and weak still, Beau hadn’t been able to imagine punishing her in any way, even if he had wanted to, which he hadn’t.

  Now, it was mid-march, and they had both been home for months, and other than the emotional strain it had caused, Ginger was fully recovered. They both knew they could re-instate their relationship to business as usual at any time, but Beau was at a complete loss as to how to even go about doing so, and Ginger had made it abundantly clear that she had no interest in DD in any form.

  Beau was a patient man, and he was willing to wait, but on the other hand, things seemed to be getting worse, not better, the longer they went without the structure that their domestic discipline relationship had always brought them. If things kept declining at this rapid rate, he
wasn’t sure how they would last.

  It was a startling thought, and he realized quickly that as bad as things were at home, avoiding going home was not the answer. Besides that, he really wasn’t getting much done anyway. He had completely worn himself out over the break, taking care of everything Ginger hadn’t been, and with Ginger waking up every hour to check that Hazel was still breathing, his quality of sleep was seriously lacking.

  With a sigh, he slammed shut the folder he had been staring blankly at for the past twenty minutes. It was time to go home.

  * * * * *

  Ginger sat in Hazel’s nursery in the rocking chair staring at the baby in her arms. It was silly she knew, this compulsive need she seemed to have to memorize every tiny freckle, every eyelash, and each unique feature on her baby girl’s sweet face. When she wasn’t feeding or changing Hazel, or caring for her in some way, she spent hours just staring at her. Even as she did it, she told herself that it was crazy. Hazel was not going to vanish into thin air if Ginger wasn’t holding her at any given moment, nor was she likely to die in her sleep. Ginger knew her feelings and fears were not out of the ordinary for a first time mom. She also knew that in her case, it was amplified, in part due to her naturally obsessive nature, but mostly because of the trauma of Hazel’s birth.

  She knew it was affecting her life, and she knew it wasn’t rational, but she couldn’t help it. Hazel was four months old now. She shouldn’t still be feeling this crippling fear and anxiety, but she was. It gnawed at her every moment of every day, and as much as she tried to get it under control, it got worse. For Ginger, control was everything. Not being able to control something as simple as her thoughts and emotions scared the hell out of her.

  Every night she vowed that the next day she would work on returning to life as she knew it. She told herself that she would wake up and take a walk before Beau left for work, or make breakfast for the two of them, or even take a shower before noon. She swore she would go to the restaurant and check in, even if it was only for an hour, that she would clean the kitchen, and do the laundry, and pay the bills. And every day she sat there in the nursery staring at her daughter while life piled up around her. And the scary thing was—she didn’t even care. The things that used to drive her crazy didn’t even bother her anymore. The dishes sat undone, and the mail piled up on the counter, and dinner was almost always take-out or whatever Beau could throw together when he got home. Everyone had told her that motherhood would mellow her out, but she didn’t think they meant to this extreme.

  Ginger shook herself out of her reverie once more, and gazed at the sleeping baby in her arms. Surely just an hour while her daughter slept wouldn’t hurt anything. She could shower, and straighten up a bit, and maybe make a quick dinner before Beau got home. Surely, he deserved that much.

  Her thoughts on her husband, she reluctantly laid Hazel in her crib, and turned to walk away. She only made it to the door before she heard his key turn in the lock, and heard him swear as he realized he didn’t need his key, because the door hadn’t been locked.

  She winced. Judging by his reaction, it was a good thing they weren’t doing DD anymore. What was he doing home already anyway? Had he come home for lunch? A quick glance at her watch had her raising her eyebrows in shock. It was already six in the evening. Where had the day gone? Shoot. What had she done today? She wracked her brain, trying to come up with something, one productive thing, and realized there was nothing. Once again, she had wasted her day, and all of her good intentions had been for naught.

  Now it was her turn to swear. Beau had worked so hard to get them caught up on everything over his break, cleaning the house from top to bottom, and even preparing meals to put in the freezer. Bills had been paid for the next few months, and thank you notes had been written. All he had asked of her was to do a little each day to try to stay caught up.

  Oh well, maybe he wouldn’t notice that nothing had gotten done today. And even if he did, did it matter? They were on a break, she reminded herself. So technically, it didn’t matter. She could do whatever she wanted, or didn’t want. And right now, she just wanted to hold her daughter.

  She gazed longingly at the crib. She could hear Beau’s footsteps as he made his way through the house and up the stairs to the nursery. She pasted a smile on her face, and prepared to leave the room. A few minutes alone with her husband while their daughter slept. It wouldn’t be so bad, right? Her hand went to the doorknob, and as she turned it she was blinded by the tears that fell freely. Her breath came out in heavy gasps, and her chest seized, feeling like her lungs were being squeezed in a vise. She ran to the crib, and scooped Hazel into her arms, inhaling the sweet scent of powder and breast milk on her breath.

  The tears continued to fall as she sank into the oversized rocker, clutching Hazel tightly to her chest. Her breath still came out in heaving sobs, and the intensity of it shocked even her. Hazel awakened as hot tears fell atop her auburn wisps, and wiggled against her mother’s hold. Ginger cried out in joy as her daughter’s eyes met her own. Only then did the pressure in her chest diminish to a dull ache, and her sobs quiet into shuddering whimpers.

  She closed her eyes, and pressed her nose to Hazel’s forehead. The sweet baby smell was so relaxing. Calmed, she leaned into the back of the chair, and fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  Beau stumbled through the door, his hands full of work and bags of take-out. He scanned the room, quickly taking in the baby paraphernalia scattered about. A dirty cereal bowl sat on the dining table, and the box lay fallen on the kitchen counter, its contents spilling out across the marble countertop. He sighed. At least he knew Ginger had remembered to eat today.

  Ginger’s phone sat on the arm of the couch, probably dead. He had been calling for the last twenty minutes. His palm itched at the sight of it. In any other home on the block, an unlocked door, and unfinished chores would be spankable offenses. In all truthfulness, he also considered those things to warrant at least a quick reminder spanking, but it was nothing he had ever had to worry about. And in the scheme of things, he knew he had much bigger problems.

  He set the bags of takeout on the kitchen counter, spent a few minutes straightening up, and went in search of his wife. Not that it was much of a search. He knew exactly where he would find her. It was where he always found her these days.

  The sight that greeted him made his heart lurch. His daughter was wide awake, cooing happily in her mother’s arms, her little face turning this way and that, seemingly utterly fascinated with the world around her. He could tell by looking at her she was freshly bathed, her outfit adorably coordinated right down to her tiny shoes and the big flower bow on her head. Her mother, on the other hand, was snoring softly, her hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head, in the same ragged sweats and tank top she had worn to bed last night. Her wire-rimmed glasses had slid down to rest across the tip of her nose, and a tiny bead of drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. Beau watched her for a few minutes, smiling at the image they made. Ginger looked every bit the harried new mother, something she had sworn would never happen.

  He reached for Hazel, fully intending to let Ginger doze for a while, hoping for a few stolen moments with his daughter without her mother hovering over his shoulder listing his wrongdoings. Of course, he wasn’t so lucky. As soon as he started to lift Hazel from her arms, Ginger tightened her grasp, and pulled the baby towards her. Her eyes popped open, and her mouth opened in a scream before her eyes came to rest on his.

  “Oh,” she sighed. “You scared me!” She loosened her grip, allowing Beau to gently lift Hazel from her arms, but he didn’t miss the panicked look in her eyes as he did so.

  Shifting to rest his daughter on his hip, Beau helped Ginger up, gently wiping her mouth with the corner of the baby blanket as she stood. “Come on downstairs. I’ve got dinner.”

  Ginger reached for the baby as soon as she was upright, but Beau held on. It was his turn. Ginger’s inner struggle over this simple act was tangible,
and Beau wondered if it had always been this bad.

  “There are bags from Endelé on the table,” he instructed her. “Why don’t you dish us up?”

  He could see how badly she wanted to argue, to take the baby from him, and say “You do it,” but she wouldn’t. She knew he was testing her, and she wouldn’t back down from a challenge.

  She wordlessly plated up the food, her eyes on Hazel the entire time. He watched her from where he sat at the dining table, bouncing Hazel on his knee.

  Ginger set a plate in front of him, and reached for the baby. He raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m fine, Ginger. Go get yours.”

  When she joined him at the table, she once again reached for her daughter, her eyes nearly frantic with need. It scared him a bit, how desperate she seemed.

  “No. She’s fine.” His eyes searched the piles of baby paraphernalia in the living room, coming to rest on the swing. Giving Ginger a look that she knew better than to argue with, he pulled the swing over to the table and set the baby inside, buckling her in, and turning on the music.

  “She is four months old, Ginger. She’s fine here in the swing while we eat.” He kept his voice firm, making it clear that she was not to defy him on this.

  She glared daggers at him, but she stayed put. He couldn’t help but smile at her obedience. The details of their relationship may be changed, but the heart of it was still there.

  Ginger must have read his thoughts, however, because staying seated was the only concession she allowed, alternating between glaring at him and cooing at Hazel.

  He picked up his fork, and motioned for her to do the same. “Eat.”