by Thianna D
The cross examination forced Ange to relive every detail of that fateful evening. She'd been forced to give details of how he had caught her unaware, cuffing her as soon as she had climbed into the bed, How she knew even then that she should have stopped him, but it had driven her wild. That he still wanted to fuck her despite her almost eight month swollen belly had aroused her like hell; she couldn't get over the fact that her roundness and her fertility was a major turn on for him, but while not understanding it, she was only too happy to reap the benefits.
In her mind's eye, she recalled how Jim had lifted her legs in the air and was paddling her backside. Her juices were trickling down the crack in her behind. It wasn't until much later that she read of the risks of spanking during pregnancy, or indeed did any reading on their kinky preferences. With the position she was in, she had thought there was no danger of him hitting her too high up, her lower ass and thighs were getting the brunt of it, and she hadn't been unduly concerned. The biggest difficulty was holding her legs like that with her neat but round bump causing an obstacle. She remembered quashing any nagging doubts because it was too fucking hot to call a halt, and how he'd had to stop paddling her pretty quickly as she just couldn't hold her position.
It wasn't until he sucked and nipped her nipples that she started to notice the tightening in her uterus, but she'd put it down to Braxton Hicks contractions. She'd had a lot of those with Ava. Then he'd clamped them and it felt so good, especially when he pulled on the clamp, stretching and elongating nipples already ripe and sensitive with pregnancy. She had noticed the contractions getting worse and she tried to call a halt, but Jim was too caught up in his excitement to notice and kept on going. She recalled Jim telling her he could see she was aroused by her cream. And she had been, totally aroused, but still the contractions had come stronger until he yelled.
"Feck it, Ange, your waters have gone."
It was only then she became aware of the warm sodden patch underneath her as it spread out beneath her thighs and bottom and cooled on hitting the bed. It was panic stations then. She replayed the rest of the events in her head, like a video recording stuck on slow replay. Of course now that she was wiser, Ange knew that in certain circumstances, excessive nipple stimulation could cause contractions strong enough to make waters break; it was even mentioned as a way to induce labor in the baby books, but with warnings attached, to use with caution.
"Shit! Call the hospital and drop Ava in next door. Mary is ready for her any time," Ange barked in her best I'm the teacher and you'll do what you're told voice.
She vaguely remembered getting up and throwing a couple of nighties, panties, and a toothbrush in a suitcase. Although she'd know she wasn't in labor as such, the waters going that early was bad news. She tried to stay calm as she woke Ava and explained she had to go to hospital. Luckily, she had spoken to her about this part already so the two year old wasn't overly distressed. Once she had reached the hospital Ange had been administered with a steroid injection to help develop the baby's premature lungs, revealing her inflamed and bruised behind.
Ange shook herself back to the present, the taxi and the solemn-looking man beside her. She wondered if they would survive it. They weren't doing a great job of it so far, coexisting as two individuals more than operating as a single unit; a couple. The reality was that Ange and Jim had bit by bit delved into their sexual fantasies without knowing there was a label for them or even rules that should be noted for safety reasons. They'd sought the pleasure highway, both caught up in their individual needs and desires, with neither thought nor care for anything beyond the now.
She now knew that there were risks attached to a lot of what they had done, especially in pregnancy. They had neither studied nor discussed what they were doing; they simply did what brought them pleasure. Heck, it was a committed relationship, and totally consensual so who the hell cared?
Well, apparently, junior in her tummy had cared and so too had a dipsy, interfering midwife. In spite of her attempt to switch off the action replay, Ange was back to that night, and the full aftershocks arising from it. The effect of pregnancy on her pigmentation had led to excessive bruising and the nurse questioned Ange about the marks on her bum while administering the steroids. Ange said she had fallen. Within twenty four hours, she had a premature baby boy born by emergency C-section and woke to a visit from the police encouraging her to take charges for assault against her husband. Trying to explain that it was all bedroom fun nearly drove her to insanity.
Jim was being questioned at the same time and gave the same story. Only for the fact that during her very minimal online research she had read that it was wise to have written confirmation of her consent, the police would probably have brought a domestic abuse case against her will and subpoenaed her to testify against her own husband, as the law permitted. When she told them about the letter, and said Jim could present it at any time, they quit harassing her but it was too late, enough of a stir had been caused and the midwife had told several people. Jim was a fairly well-known figure. Two all-Ireland Gaelic football medals had made him something of a local hero in Kerry. As a result the whole story hit the tabloids, totally ruining Angela's life. And while they were fairly sure it was the midwife, Ange could never prove who had leaked it. She could picture ex-students all over the place pissing themselves laughing, at her expense. She could see the morning's headlines already.
BDSM Teacher Taught a Lesson.
Or worse yet…
What was this woman teaching your children?
Or
Lessons in Lust.
The damn possibilities were endless and each one seemed more cringe-worthy.
"Stop, love, it'll do no good," Jim said, as if reading her mind.
It was all right for him to talk. Hell, it just made him Mr. Joe Cool in the eyes of the world. As an ex-Kerry footballer, the world expected him to be a bit of a lad. If anything, being known as a bit of a tiger in the bedroom gave him more kudos.
He ushered her protectively into the waiting car. She could see his fists rolled in balls, only dying to lash out at the prying paparazzi. Ange gathered whatever self-control she could, not for her sake, but purely to prevent Jim thwacking a camera bearing arse-hole thus playing right into their hands and proving to the world that he was a psycho. Although he had not wanted her to take the case, on the grounds that there would be way too much publicity, he had been at her side the whole way in spite of this.
When they pulled up outside their house in the salubrious estate in Foxrock, the curtains twitched. No doubt they had all been listening to the news all day. Fuck them, let them suck it up. Not one had offered her any support, oh one or two of the gossips had tried to pretend to. But it was solely to get the lowdown before it became public knowledge and she had seen through them right away and sent them packing. It was only her old friends that she could rely on and even one or two of them had let her down, shocked at the revelations.
Ange ran into the house, up the stairs and flopped on the bed where she cried silent tears of shame and anger. She shooed Jim away the moment he came near. She couldn't bear to look at him right now. Thank Christ she had arranged for the kids to spend the week of the court case with her sister. Although she would dearly have loved to squeeze them tight into her, but seeing her darling little Jack right now would only serve as a reminder. Fucking do-gooder midwife! If she got her hands on that woman right now, Ange would not be responsible for her actions.
She could hear Jim put on the kettle and the TV. How could he bear to watch the news this evening she wondered? The phone rang and she heard him lift it off the receiver and the bleep as he switched it off. Obviously not a concerned friend. How had so many journalists had managed to get hold of their ex-directory telephone number? After a time, she could smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting up the stairs and she knew it was for her and that Jim would be there within minutes. Stilling her body, Ange tried to force her breathing into a regular, even pattern, emu
lating sleep. She heard the footstep on the top stairs and she made little snoring sounds.
Ange could hear the light thud of the mug as it landed softly on the bedside locker. He pulled a throw over her, kissed her blonde wavy hair softly, and whispered. "I wish you'd talk to me, love. I know you're awake."
Ange tried not to move a muscle and he sighed at her lack of response before the door softly closed. She strained her ears to see what he would do next and was relieved to hear the front door open and his footstep on the pavement in front of the house.
Rising as quickly as she could, she fired up her laptop, hoping Jim would be gone for long enough for her to check her emails. Confirmation was due anytime now about whether or not they were accepted into Corbin's Bend and it was her last remaining hope for anything resembling a normal future. Her online friend, Maeve, had led her to expect a reply within days and had indicated it was quite likely to be positive according to what she had heard. Her heart beat faster as she saw the email.
From: Maeve Harshaw
To: Angela O'Brien
Re: Approval Process
Dear Ange,
I wouldn't normally dream of breaking a confidence, but I know what you are going through today so I'm bending the rules a little. Just heard it on the grapevine, you've been approved and the formal notice is being sent by FedEx as we speak. Apparently, your famous references helped! A former Irish prime minister, I'm impressed – you'll have to tell me all about that when you get here. I can't tell you how excited I am to be able to get to know you in person.
I hope today wasn't too awful. You know I am always here if you need to let off steam, but I understand if you're not ready to talk yet. You'll soon get used to our prying little ways. I'm going to ask if I can be your mentor – after all I am Irish catholic, (well was catholic, but that's another story too) so who better? I just know you're both going to love it here.
Maeve
From: Ange O'Brien
To: Maeve Harshaw
Re: Approval process
Dear Maeve,
I've just had the worst day of my life and I laughed and cried when I got your mail. Don't worry, I won't rat you out for telling, you've just given me my first smile in months.
I can't wait to get everything organized and to finally meet you. You've been my rock. I can't imagine a better mentor but you'll have to explain what you mean by that.
You'll laugh about this, but the referee was easy… he lives in our neighborhood, and Jim used to make regular "voluntary" donations, as did the entire construction crowd. He couldn't refuse to be our referee as his house was bought and paid for by fools like us. That's another thing I won't miss, the brown envelope mentality.
I have to run, but I promise a long mail telling you all that happened in the next few days.
Love to you all.
Ange
Ange had intended to be back in bed when Jim returned but she was buzzing. Finally there was something good on the horizon. And for the first time in an age, she wished he was there, beside her, to share her joy. The way they used to share things. A long hour passed before she heard the key in the latch. Jim jumped as she said hello.
"Oh God, Ange, you gave me a fright. I thought you were sleeping."
"I woke up and then I checked the computer, great news, Jim, we're in." She rose from her seat and approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing his mouth. She knew he was stunned as he hadn't even asked what we're in meant; she had spurned all his advances of late. But he didn't reject her out of spite or pettiness. He pulled her close, savoring a rekindling of a flame that had almost been extinguished by circumstances. Ange could feel a vaguely familiar twitch in her clit as his tongue probed her mouth and his hands ran through her hair, tugging lightly on it. She had almost forgotten how good it felt to be possessed by her man.
His hard cock pressing against her thigh was a delight instead of the nuisance she had come to see it as lately. She wanted to feel it, taste it and better still, be fucked by it. What she really wanted was for him to just take her, there and then, but in light of her recent refusals, she knew he couldn't so she took the lead.
"Jim, would you mind spanking me?" she asked, feeling her cheeks blush. God it was like the early days. She felt mortified but she really needed a good hard session to wash the tension out of her.
"Are you sure, we haven't done it since…"
"Since Jack was born," she continued for him. "I know, I couldn't, but now I need to, if you can bear it."
"Bear it? Shit, Ange, I've been praying for it. Do you remember our safe word?"
"Course I do, it was copper, for Copperface Jacks, where we met. Why the hell do you think I wanted Jack's name, silly?"
Ange saw the smile spread across his face at that. How the hell had things gone so bad that it took her three years to explain why she had been insistent on the name? Where the hell had Jim and Ange, the unit, together against the world, gone? She felt guilty as sin. It wasn't Jim who had shut down, she knew that. It was totally her doing.
"I'd like over the knee," he said timidly. "It's intimate. Think you can handle that?"
"Don't ask, tell. Take over like you used to. Please?"
She saw him appraise her expression. All of a sudden he seemed taller, younger and stronger. She didn't notice his paunched belly, or his greying temples peppering his once black hair. She just saw her man.
"Come here," he ordered as he sat on the sofa. Ange approached him slowly, nerves kicking in as they always did. Normally he had expected her to be naked from the waist down so she reached behind to open her skirt.
"Leave it," he ordered, growing taller and more formidable by the second. Ange cautiously positioned her clothed body across his knee and felt him bunch her skirt up above her hips. His hand softly caressed her rounded buttocks as he bared her.
"Mm, hot, I always liked it better clothed." That was news to Ange. The bareness must have been to satisfy her not him. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of her panties. He didn't remove them, just pulled them down to mid-thigh.
"That is the fucking sexiest picture a man could ever want," he said as her garments were positioned to his liking. Ange, aroused from the outset was now dripping. She felt his hand come down on her arse, softly, almost reverently; and again the same on the other cheek. This continued to the count of ten. Ange was just about ready to give up and get the fucking over with. Things were not going according to plan. He was being too tender and he just wasn't getting her fired up. As she tried to rise, his other hand locked her in position.
"Not so fast, Ms. O'Brien. I'm in control here," he warned, bringing his hand down hard. A rain of hard, stinging thwacks fell rapidly all over her bottom. Ange wriggled to try to escape the deluge.
"Lie still unless you want to be tied," he said and she could feel moisture pool in her pussy. She hadn't realized how much she had missed dominant Jim. Automatically, she gave herself over to him, her body opening like petals in the early morning light.
Chapter 2
Mid-September. Colorado, USA.
"Wake up. We're here, love," Jim said, shaking his wife in the passenger seat. Some flaming map reader she had turned out to be, snoring softly for almost the entire trip. He hadn't minded though, he knew how difficult she had found it to sleep for the last three years, he felt her toss and turn beside him nightly. He really hoped this move would finally bring her some peace. It bloody better had, because otherwise he really didn't want to be there. It killed him to leave Ireland.
"Unh, what?" Ange muttered as she came to. "Oh, sorry, I slept the whole time."
"It's fine. I'm going to leave the car running and check out the house. If the beds are made up, we'll just carry these two in and put them straight to bed, it was a great idea to put them into their pajamas at that last stop."
It was very late when they arrived and most of the other houses were in darkness, save for the illumination of the streetlamps. The key was under a stone outsid
e the house, just as promised. It made him laugh, they'd done the very same thing all throughout his childhood in Kerry, but you wouldn't dream of doing it in modern day Dublin… everything would be gone when you got home from work.
The first thing that hit him as he entered was the heat. Someone had kindly thought of their arrival and the contrast to the chill of the autumn late-night air was comforting. He smiled as he had a quick glance at his surroundings. The rooms were spacious, much more so than the home they had just left. The furniture had arrived as scheduled. Most things were still wrapped in plastic or bubble wrap, but just like Brent had promised the beds were made up, ready to flop into. It was almost like Jim had gone back twenty years, back to a time when neighbors looked after each other in Ireland; before the affluence, greed and self-importance had taken over. It was a great start as far as he was concerned; helping him put his misgivings about the move into a little compartment of his brain. He returned to the car, lifted Ava and carried her inside, closely followed by Ange carrying a sleeping little Jack.
"Let's just put them in our bed tonight, in case they get frightened. One of us can sleep with them. This way…" he directed Ange towards the master bedroom.
"Oh, nice," she exclaimed, looking at the bed big enough to hold all of them. As she tucked their sleeping son into bed, Jim took in the room – sterile for the want of personal effects but large, comfortable and warm. He wasn't too gone on the magnolia paint throughout the whole house but he was a dab hand with a paintbrush and that would be easily fixed. No doubt Ange would have her orders about decorating in no time. She was good at that. Five year old Ava stirred as Jim lowered her onto the bed, bringing him back into the moment.
