Forever Wife

by Faulkner, Carolyn

  He concentrated on the area he knew would continue its reminder long after the spanking was done: the sweet spot where butt met thigh – not that he neglected any of the rest of her beautiful backside either.

  “What are you going to do the next time you have a problem – of any sort – Elizabeth?” he asked while still bringing that unforgiving wooden implement down in perfect time.

  “Tell you!” she cried, with an inevitable sob.

  “That’s right. Even if you think it’s going to get you into trouble, what are you going to do?”

  “Tell you!” She was panting and coughing and hoarse from screaming, but he never relented.

  “Good girl. I think another twenty swats ought to help you remember.”

  Elizabeth thought her bottom and the backs of her thighs were in pain before, but that was nothing in comparison to that last series of smacks. She had no idea why they hurt so much; they just did. By the time he finished, she had absolutely no voice – and no energy – left.

  He helped her to her feet, held her for a moment until she was stable, then guided her into the corner. He told her to stay there; she had absolutely no problems obeying that command. She didn’t think she could possibly move. When he returned, he lovingly washed her face, helped her blow her nose like a two-year-old, and got her into a nightgown he had fetched from her room. He didn’t think she’d want anything – even something as soft as flannel pajama pants – against her rear end, and he was damned right. Then he gathered her into his arms and carried her into the living room where he sat down and arranged her carefully over his lap again.

  Liz panicked, worried that meant he was going to spank her again! But he soothed her by rubbing her back as he held her in place, reassuring her that he’d just thought this would probably be the most comfortable position for her to be in for a while. He turned on the television to a music channel, then began to rub her back, keeping well away from her inflamed backside.

  “I’m sorry you had to have your bottom paddled. But you had it coming for a lot of reasons. I still can’t believe you didn’t trust me enough to come to me when you were damned near destitute, Beth, and even after I got here you didn’t tell me about it. I had to discover it accidentally. I don’t ever want you worrying about where your next meal is coming from, because as long as I’m alive – and beyond - I’ll take care of you.”

  Her mind was still chaotic and preoccupied with the stinging throbbing of her rear, but had he just said “and beyond” in regards to his own death? What could he possibly have meant by that? And was she sure she really wanted to know?

  Vidar continued to stroke her back, helping her to calm down, putting a box of Kleenex where she could easily reach it so she could blow her nose when needed; she was still sobbing a bit. But her entire body tensed when his fingers drifted slowly but determinedly down over her ravaged bottom to nudge her thighs apart and begin to explore her, much as he had when he had declared half time, half way through her paddling.

  Although her body had stiffened immediately at his intimate invasion, he didn’t seem to notice. “Ah, you’re so slippery! That’s wonderful!”

  Elizabeth didn’t know if she would agree that it was quite that wonderful, considering the condition of her rump, but then his fingers moved just a bit further north and she forgot everything she had been trying to think about. Even the stinging of her rear end ebbed some, in favor of the much more pleasurable sensations he was creating between her legs.

  “And you’re clit is so swollen, baby, wow!”

  She could feel him arching beneath her, easily detecting the bold, hard strength of his erection under her tummy.

  “I’m going to have to paddle you more often.”

  “No!” she croaked, causing him to chuckle at her vehemence.

  “Well, that’s not really something you have any input about, anyway, now do you?”

  Liz was too busy panting and moaning – but for an entirely different reason from why she had been doing just that about ten minutes ago – to pay much attention to him, and that wasn’t a good idea.

  “Elizabeth.”

  Just her name. No more than that. No yelling, no cursing, no screaming. But then, he didn’t need to say or do any more than that.

  And it was more than enough – despite his big, busy fingers and how they were manipulating that eager little nub of hers – to get her attention. “No, Vidar, it’s not,” she answered dutifully.

  “Very good. But remember,” he warned, as he heard her moans becoming exponentially more fevered, “you’re not allowed to come without permission.”

  Oh dear Gawd. He would restrict her like that, and make her have to beg him to allow her to have an orgasm. She wasn’t at all sure she could even control it; that wasn’t something she’d ever had to do before.

  But she was damned sure going to try. There was no way she would be able to tolerate another round with that paddle, no matter what her juices said to the contrary.

  He was in no hurry to get her to that point anyway, because those inquisitive digits of his were moving very slowly over that turgid peak, teasing her mercilessly, not by way of over-stimulation, but rather its opposite. It seemed to her that the less stimulation he gave her, the more she craved from him, the bigger she swelled trying to instigate the contact she was lacking.

  Up and over and around, then just settling over the top of her for an aggravatingly long pause. It was going to drive her even crazier than she already was. Liz heard the breath hiss in through someone’s teeth and only realized minutes later that it was her own.

  “Something wrong, love?” Vidar inquired solicitously.

  Her answer was an animalistic growl that had him giggling, which was an unusual sound for someone his size.

  “Yes, Vidar. Something is –” She stopped as his fingers began moving again, increasing that devastating ache between her legs a million times over with every millimeter of flesh they rubbed so deliberately. “Very wrong.”

  “And what might that be?” he asked, his voice almost threateningly soft.

  It stopped before it had begun, as far as she was concerned, leaving her cruelly hanging, waiting for relief that never came, the excitement building within her even when he wasn’t moving his hand.

  “Oh – oh, dear God, can I come, please? Please?” He had to let her. He just had to. She couldn’t even comprehend an alternative, even while his fingers were at rest.

  “Well, I don’t think that’s any kind of way to ask for a favor, do you?”

  “Favor?” she repeated.

  “Yes, a favor. Your pleasure is mine to give you, or not. It is definitely not assumed in any situation. And therefore it is a treat. A favor.”

  He couldn’t tell if her groan was one of outrage or pleasure. They were beginning to sound much the same – mixing with the groans of pain she had been issuing not very long ago, too.

  With his spare hand, Vidar reached down and deliberately rubbed it none too gently over her sizzling bottom, causing her to yelp from the unpleasant sensations.

  She would have thought that doing that would have taken her desire down several notches to non-existent. But it didn’t. It dulled it a bit at first, but it returned with a vengeance, as if his nonverbal reminder of the condition of her bottom, and the fact that he was the one who had disciplined her so thoroughly, only added to her excitement.

  Liz tried again because she absolutely had to. She didn’t want to know what was in store for her if she – even accidentally – came before he permitted her to. “Please – Vidar – Sir - may I come? Please?”

  “Much better.” He made her wait an agonizingly long beat before giving her his answer. “Yes, you may.”

  But having granted her the ability to have an orgasm from his attentions, he didn’t change the rhythm of his strokes, and so she still had an ultra-long buildup with many frustrating pauses. But he seemed to read her very well, and just when that familiar, pleasurable pressure began to build seriousl
y within her, he sped his fingers up. Not much, though, really just eliminating the pause and stroking her continually, slowly . . . and very deliberately – letting her know beyond a shadow of a doubt just who exactly was in control of her ecstasy, as well as her pain.

  When she finally exploded, she was still over his lap; Liz thought for sure that she was going to faint dead away. She couldn’t get enough oxygen, and he hadn’t stopped stimulating her.

  In fact, his fingers were working even more furiously, sending her hurtling into the next orgasm with no warning, no notice at all. Just suddenly, it was there, upon her, spasm after unbelievable spasm, and even when she collapsed he continued to rub and flick and tickle that tiny button of flesh.

  “Come again for me, Liz.”

  She couldn’t. She absolutely couldn’t. There wasn’t nearly enough left inside her for another one. He had to be hallucinating. There was no way she could scrape together enough –

  Yet there it was again, with no warning. He hit just the right spot and it came out of hiding and laid her flat, leaving her jerking and writhing on his hand, completely under his control.

  Vidar turned her then, careful not to make her sit on her sore backside, and hugged her tight. “You are magnificent. I think I’m going to do that to you every night.”

  Liz wondered, through the haze, if he meant the orgasms or the paddling – or – heaven forbid – both.

  And then, when it was absolutely impossible for her to come up with an intelligent thought on her own, he was ready to discuss the casino. “Your father was too proud for his own good, as well, Beth. He didn’t come to me when he started to lose money. I could have helped him. I discovered that he had put this place up for sale quite by accident. You see, I missed being around you. I wanted to buy a place of my own on this lake, so I could watch you, even from afar if I had to. Imagine my shock when the place the realtor showed me was none other than Camp Birches.

  “I immediately bought it, paid nearly double the asking price, and told your father that he could continue to use the camp as he always had. I had expected him to use the proceeds from the sale of the cabin to invest wisely, so I was stunned to learn that when he died, you were left penniless.”

  “Mom’s illness cost a lot, I think,” Liz murmured, barely conscious.

  “I don’t mean to criticize, darling. I loved your father like a father. But after he died, I just couldn’t bring myself to come here again. It was too painful a reminder of all I had lost. Yet, I couldn’t imagine selling it. Just thinking about strangers moving in here, it felt wrong. And if I couldn’t live here, but I couldn’t let anyone else live here, then the reasonable answer seemed to be to bulldoze it. I thought the casino was a good idea, I still do. It will bring in jobs and revenue to Scrimshaw, something they desperately need, or this place could become a ghost town.

  “I never, ever thought that I would manipulate you into giving up your campaign by bedding you. I swear it. I wasn’t even aware that you were behind the campaign. I had only just learned that Tracy was.”

  “I believe you,” Liz whispered, more relieved than she cared to admit. Then she yawned deeply. In another heartbeat, she was sound asleep.

  Vidar chuckled, patting her lower back affectionately. With a thought, he moved her into the new bed now set up in the master bedroom complete with new sheets and blankets. Her parents’ old furniture, per her instructions at the store, had been donated to Habitat for Humanity. Then he stripped down and climbed in beside her. It was sweet torture to sleep next to her and not ravage her. There would be time for that in the morning.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re going to stop resisting my efforts to get a casino built along Scrimshaw Lake.”

  It was just like Vidar not to phrase his request in the form of a question, but rather a command.

  Liz squirmed on her chair, uncomfortable just trying to sit. There was no way she could endure another spanking so soon, but this was too important to ignore.

  “Vidar, I can’t,” she whispered.

  His expression darkened, and he cleared his throat menacingly. Yes, he was planning to spank her again! Even knowing how black and blue she was from the paddling he gave her last night! She bit her lower lip, but forged ahead.

  “Darling, I want to obey you,” she quickly insisted. “In almost all things! I will come when you call. I will jump when you say jump. But please don’t command me what to think and not think! Am I not allowed to be myself? Would you really love me if I were nothing more than a paper doll for you to play with at will and set aside on the shelf, soon to be forgotten? When you say you love me, don’t you love my mind as well?”

  “That’s not what this is about, and you know it,” Vidar grumbled.

  “That’s exactly what this is about. This lake is my home, every bit as much as Camp Birches. I love the quiet, the crystal clear water of the lake in the early morning, the haunting echo of the loons… that will all change if your casino goes through. Loons are private birds. If there are too many people around, they will move away. If there are too many jet skis and motorboats, the water will no longer be crystal clear. Relaxing summer afternoons down by the beach will be destroyed by neighboring boom boxes and late night beer parties. Your casino is so not a good idea, why can’t you see that?”

  Vidar rose suddenly, and Liz held her breath, fearing he would toss her over his shoulder, but instead he marched into his office, closing the door behind him firmly. She paused, waiting for his command to follow him, but it never came. A few hours later, he emerged, looking much more relaxed than he had earlier.

  “Beth, dear. I want you to use my office for any of your campaign needs. You may use my computer, fax machine, copier – you and Tracy are both welcome here.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she launched herself into his arms and hugged him. “Oh, thank you, thank you, darling! That means so much to me! I love you!”

  They settled into a very nice routine, despite their diametrically opposed goals when they each got to working in the morning. Liz was amazed at how happy her life was now, when she was sleeping with the enemy, and he was as strict with her as he was.

  She’d never really considered to what extent, exactly, he would want to govern her life, but then, she had never really put much stock into the idea that they would ever end up together. It turned out that he pretty much wanted to have a hand in almost everything about her. She was surprised to find that she didn’t find that overbearing in the least, and he always couched his “concerns” in terms of making sure she was healthy and happy, and the sure knowledge that he was the one who could help her be both.

  He adored her long hair, and so she was forbidden to cut it – trimming was fine, even coloring – with his prior approval because he didn’t want her coming home with pink hair – but not cutting it. He made sure she ate well, instituting rules about what she could and could not eat, although not when. He encouraged her to eat as much as she wanted – of healthy things – but severely limited her access to sugar and processed, refined foods.

  The boxes of Pop Tarts, once they were gone, were not replaced. Nor were the Spaghetti-O’s with meatballs, or the macaroni and cheese. And while Liz mourned each of these items heartily, she did have to admit – although certainly not to him – that she felt better than she had in ages.

  He could certainly afford to hire a chef for them if he wanted, but he made most of their meals, and they were all depressingly healthy, although they usually tasted okay. He was trying to get her to adopt broccoli as a favorite food, but it was slow going. Her fussiness was something he was determined to eliminate, and if she did not deign to eat what he put in front of her, the only other thing she was allowed – and expected – to eat was an Ensure, which she found thoroughly disgusting.

  Despite the rules – and there were a goodly number of them – she never felt particularly restricted, or that he was in the least oppressive. He never once tried to get her to stop working directly against him
, he never tried to restrict her access to her friend and, indeed, encouraged her to go out with Tracy any time she liked. He was much more open and accepting of Tracy than she was of him. Liz’s girlfriend just could not wrap her mind around the idea that he was sincere. She was still trying to figure out what his angle was.

  They were also each very respectful of each other’s privacy – it was one of her biggest nits. She didn’t hang around him while he was talking on the phone, and he allowed her the same courtesy. He got their mail for them, since it was at a post office box in town, but he’d never once opened any of it, and nor would she ever have done anything like that to him.

  Although he was unrelentingly strict and demanding of her when it came to following the rules he had set down for her, and never failed to have her howling when she didn’t, he was also an incredible romantic and almost overly generous.

  He told her that he loved her almost more than he should have, and at first, she would only return the compliment very occasionally, and painfully shyly. Not that she didn’t love him, she did, but she felt too tentative about their situation by far. He had no such concerns, apparently. Vidar laid himself bare, deliberately, so that she would see that he had nothing to hide, that his only interest was in loving her.

  There were roses on her bedside table almost every day. He worked from the cabin’s office, but he sent her text messages on the new cellphone he had bought for her every afternoon at two and again every night at 3 a.m. if he had to be away on business. He often surprised her with presents – from big and extravagant to small, inside joke gifts whose meaning was just between them.

  One of the hardest parts about living with Vidar, though, was feeling dependent upon him. It bothered her that she had no income of her own. She had always been so independent, and being penniless made her question more than just herself. Would she have fallen so in love with him, if she hadn’t been so desperate? It was such an issue for her, that she stopped going shopping completely. She never bought Vidar gifts, because buying them with his money just felt wrong. She didn’t need to buy herself a thing, because he saw to her every need. She didn’t even carry his debit card any more, which was in her name but drew from his account. She tucked it away in her bedroom dresser. He could give her debit cards, but he couldn’t force her to use them.