Welcome To Corbin's Bend

by Thianna D

  She suspected he was right, so she let him position her, but at the press of his hand on her lower spine, she tensed only to gasp in pain when her anus tightened around the intrusive plug.

  "We will begin. Twenty. Count with your fingers."

  A whistle, then a strike and instant fire licked across her backside. Elly jerked and yelped, but lifted her thumb as he'd directed. All his strength went into that swing, which meant she'd be sporting deep red welts by the time he'd finished.

  Whistle, strike, fire, a cry, index finger. He was working his way down to her sit spot, but she worried most about the inevitable strikes against the anal plug, which would drive the object even deeper inside her. When that happened, Elly knew she'd try to get away. She'd fight him, unable to accept this punishment one moment longer.

  It took him seven strikes to reach her anus. She'd cried out with each whip and slice of the cane; wanting to escape the pain, but forced to remain conscious and count. When the rattan instrument slashed down on the plug, she screamed so loud, she suspected the entire community had heard her. She fought to get free, but he clamped his hand down, forcing her to remain in place. Then her bruised and tortured body started to convulse.

  "Count," he reminded, his breathing labored.

  Despite her own difficulty breathing, Elly began to beg. She couldn't help it. "No more. Please," she struggled to get out past the gag as agonizing spasms assumed control of her nerves and muscles.

  "No. I will not let you up. You are going to do as I say or suffer for your disobedience." Then the strikes fell hard and fast, despite her desperate pleas and kicking. He no longer cared if she counted or remained conscious, he was laying into her for her disrespect and defiance.

  Before the last strike landed, she lost consciousness.

  When Elly came to, she had no idea how much time had passed, but she lay facedown on their bedroom carpet with drool pouring out of her mouth. Though she expected her backside was nothing more than a crisscross of swollen welts, the area had gone strangely numb. Her head and jaws ached something fierce, however, and her wrists throbbed even though the gag had been removed and her hands were free. Her arms hung so limp and useless, she could barely move them, but when she eventually managed to wipe the drool from her chin, she caught sight of her raw and bleeding wrist. She had fought for all she was worth; however, Arthur was much stronger and more powerful than she could ever hope to be. He topped her by a good one hundred pounds and most of it was muscle. He worked out daily, and his diligence showed.

  She tried to move, but her back went into immediate spasms and she cried out, then her breath caught in her throat and emerged as a sob, with one following in the wake of another. Miserable, wrenching sobs that came from her gut.

  Despite her anguish and despair, when Muffin started howling and scratching frantically at the laundry room door in an effort to get to her, she pressed a fist to her mouth and listened instead. Where was Arthur? She lifted her head, then relaxed when she heard water running in their shower. He'd wanted her in the corner, but she didn't think she'd be able to move to her spot by herself. Not with her back muscles continuing to seize up. So, she lay still and waited. After a moment the shower turned off, and a few minutes later Arthur returned to the room with a towel draped around his hips. He stood staring down at her, his features devoid of expression.

  "You're awake now. Good."

  He grabbed the armless chair he often used when he took her over his knee and moved it closer before he sat and stared down at her.

  "Can you talk?"

  "I think so," Elly answered, her throat scratchy and raw from screaming.

  Arthur leaned back in the chair and regarded her through cold, gray eyes. "I'm disappointed you passed out before we were done."

  She gaped at him, until she realized he'd perceived her actions as further weakness and failure on her part. Perhaps he was right. Fainting from pain was a sign of weakness.

  "However, I suspect you now have a better understanding of the depth of my displeasure with you today."

  She'd fully comprehended his displeasure the moment she'd heard his messages, but replied, "Yes, sir."

  "So, perhaps you'd like to tell me why you chose to ignore my rule about calling before you leave the house."

  "I have no excuse."

  "I don't seek an excuse, Eleanor. I wouldn't accept one anyway. I want you to give me a reason. You didn't forget again, did you?"

  "No, sir."

  "I didn't think so. Therefore, your lapse was an act of willful disobedience. You must have had a reason; since you realized you'd face my wrath once I discovered your perfidy. So, I'm listening now. Tell me why you left without informing me first?"

  "I had no idea how long I'd be gone."

  "That's not a reason."

  "You punish me if I'm even a minute late, and I couldn't give you a time limit." She grabbed her throat and winced. She really wanted a glass of water, but doubted he'd get one for her. Not considering how inflexible his attitude appeared to be right then.

  "So, you'd rather be punished for disobedience than tardiness. Is that it?"

  "They're both pretty much the same to me," she admitted sourly, her voice growing hoarser by the second.

  He rose. "Think so? Then I have not done my duty by you properly."

  Realizing her words had only angered him, she said the first thing she thought of to distract him. "Some people came to the door today."

  His spine stiffened, but he sat back down and bent toward her as if the news worried him. "Who were they, and why were they here?"

  "They wanted to ask for my help with a community project."

  "And how did you answer their request?"

  "I said I had to speak with you first."

  "I see. So, you thought you would gain my approval by leaving the house without permission?"

  "No, but I was excited by their visit." She struggled to sit up to carry on this conversation, only her arms wouldn't support her, and her back protested every move she made. Lying down again, she added, "They came asking for my help, Arthur. They think I'd be an asset." She tilted her head to gauge his expression.

  He nodded. "They obviously do not know you very well, then. Do they?"

  "No. They don't know me at all, and I don't know them," she insisted, then coughed. Her parched and sore throat ached something fierce. "They said they valued my assistance and would send one of their heads to discuss the project further with you, if you wished."

  "They did, did they? Well they'd be wasting their time. You can't do it."

  Elly frowned. "Why not?"

  One eyebrow rose. "Seems to me working on a project with other women would be enjoyable for you. A reward even. And I'm not inclined to reward you for anything right now."

  She lay her head down again, unwilling to argue with him further. "I'll inform them tomorrow."

  "Good. Can you sit up?"

  "I don't think so. I tried earlier and my back went into spasms." She glanced back at him. "I'm sorry I displease you so, Arthur."

  "And are you also sorry you disobeyed me, or merely sorry you were caught?"

  "Both, right now."

  "I see. Well, I think you got off lightly tonight, but you're too weak for more, so once you're able to move again, I suggest you go on to bed while I get dressed and do something useful." He rose to put the chair back.

  "May I have a glass of water, please?"

  "Can you even sit up long enough to drink one?"

  "I'm not sure. Maybe with your help I could manage."

  "Of course, my dear. Why shouldn't I wait on you hand and foot while you lay about being useless?"

  "Please, Arthur."

  "Water it is."

  He strode into the bathroom and returned a few seconds later carrying a glass filled halfway, then placed it on the floor near her hands. "Try to drink it yourself while I get dressed. If you fail in that, I'll assist you when I return." He exited their bedroom, leaving her staring lon
gingly at the precious fluid while he looked after his own needs.

  Elly still couldn't control her trembling arms long enough to hold anything by the time Arthur had returned, so he eased her head up, saying nothing about her whimpers and groans, and held the glass to her lips.

  "Drink slowly," he cautioned, "or you'll bring it all back up again. And you're sadly mistaken if you think I'll clean up after you."

  Elly greedily sipped the water, despite the way it burned her throat rather than soothed it, then groaned with disappointment when he took the glass away.

  "Enough for now. You can drink a little more later." Putting the water down, he shifted their positions so he sat with his back propped against the bed frame and drew her up to his front. She lay on her right side to protect her now throbbing hindquarters. The earlier numbness was slowly receding, allowing pain to eagerly trace along in its wake. Unrelenting agony would follow next.

  She leaned against Arthur's chest, grateful he hadn't merely dumped her back on the floor and left. They sat together, saying nothing for a moment.

  "I'm still quite angry with you, you know?" he asked, idly running his fingers down her upper arm.

  "I know," she whispered, knowing his words meant he wasn't through punishing her for her defiance.

  "You purposefully disobeyed me, and I won't tolerate disobedience. Ever." Despite the heat in his statement, his fingers maintained a gentle, almost erotic stroking along her arm. She didn't reply. There was no need.

  "You broke a solemn vow you made to me before God, Eleanor. It's bad enough when you forget to do things, or run about doing them in that haphazard fashion of yours. But breaking a promise on purpose reflects a defiant, willful spirit that needs to be broken. That's why I was so harsh with you tonight. If I ever catch you defying me again, you won't be able to walk or sit for a week, and I'll make you wear that damned plug the entire time."

  Elly realized he must have removed the hated thing sometime after she'd passed out, which was unusual for him. He was all too happy to insert the device into her, but she had to remove and clean the monstrosity. Had he been worried about her? If he had, he hid his concern well. She glanced down at her swollen wrists. She'd need to bandage them later or she'd stain the sheets.

  "Are you listening to me?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  She wanted to see his expression, but was afraid to move. "I won't disobey you again, Arthur."

  "You'd best not, if you value your hide at all." He held up two tablets. "I want you to take these. They'll alleviate some of the swelling and help you sleep. Open your mouth."

  When she obeyed, he popped the pills in and helped her wash them down with water.

  "We'll wait a bit until those take effect. I'm also not pleased you fainted. I want you to schedule an appointment with Marcus Devon tomorrow and have him check you out sometime next week. You'll need to hold off until your welts and bruising are less obvious before you see him, so make sure you set the appointment far enough in the future to give yourself time to heal. We don't want him or his nurse to know what lengths I need to take simply to ensure your obedience to me. Such an outcome wouldn't reflect well on either one of us, would it?"

  "No, sir."

  "No, it wouldn't. Still, it's bothersome to me. You've never passed out during one of our sessions before, so I want you checked out."

  Perhaps she hadn't fainted before, but she'd recalled many times when she'd wanted to. "Okay."

  He gave her shoulder a thump. Improper response. "Yes, sir."

  "Tomorrow is laundry day, isn't it?"

  Tomorrow would be their fifth month anniversary, but for him it was laundry day. "Yes, sir."

  "Good. You'll need to take bleach to the sheets, I suspect."

  "Am I bleeding?"

  "Some. I was angry, so I may have been more severe than usual tonight. Hopefully, this thrashing has taught you the lesson I intended."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. How are you feeling?"

  "A little fuzzy headed now."

  "Ahh. The pills are starting to take effect. Well, we can't stay here all night. One of us actually works for a living."

  She'd wanted to continue working as a receptionist after they married, but he wouldn't let her. He'd said her duty was to him and their home, not some outside employer. However, he did say he'd be willing to consider her involvement with an approved charity or community project once they were more settled in Corbin's Bend.

  Gripping her shoulders, he pressed her forward. "Move onto your stomach."

  Her back instantly rebelled with a jolt of pain and she grit her teeth. "No," she protested, fearing he meant to continue punishing her.

  His hands stilled. "What did you say?"

  "Please. No more tonight. I don't think I can take any additional pain."

  "Is that your decision to make?"

  "No, sir, but I hurt so much already. Please, Arthur. I'm begging you. I'll do whatever you ask, but no more."

  "That wasn't my intent; however, I'm displeased you believe it's in your province to make that determination."

  "I'm sorry." She drew her trembling hands up to her face. "I realize it's not my place, but I—"

  "Stop there, Eleanor. It's not your place to decide anything about your punishment, or your pleasure, so there is no 'but.' I have full authority over what you can do, say and possess. Since you seem to have difficulty grasping the concept, I'll need to establish a few more controls to restrict your activities, and you'll have to earn each freedom back through a merit system I'll put in place. In the meantime, I want you on your stomach now."

  Letting out a sob, she obeyed him by clumsily draping herself over his knees. But rather than strike, his fingers stroked her hair and the unexpected tenderness so startled her she burst into tears.

  "Quiet. That's enough. Now try to move up on your hands and knees."

  Though both her arms and legs trembled and her back screamed in protest, she managed to obey.

  "Good. Now I'll help by holding your shoulders, but I want you to rise up onto your knees."

  With his support, she managed to straighten, but was unable to hold back a cry of anguish when her muscles seized and contorted again. Ignoring her outburst, he shifted to his feet and placed his hands under her arms. "Now, stand up."

  She tried, but the agony in her back was so great her legs wouldn't support her and the room started to spin, so she shut her eyes and let out another sob. In the next moment, he'd lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He placed her on her right side, facing away from him, and covered her.

  "I'll put your water on the table here beside you. Get some sleep."

  Then he walked to the door, turned out the light and left her. Unfortunately, now she needed to pee, but doubted she could manage the walk to their bathroom without help. If she called Arthur back, he'd only get angry again, so she had to try on her own.

  Gingerly rolling onto her stomach, she inched herself around until her knees hung over the edge of the bed and she slowly backed off the mattress to stand up. The movement to vertical gave her dry heaves, but she managed to remain upright. With her hands braced against the headboard, she remained motionless until the furniture stopped spinning and the ache in her cramping muscles subsided.

  Walking with slow, deliberate steps, Elly wended her way to the bathroom and over to the toilet. Unable to sit, she straddled the porcelain fixture and peed standing up. When she was done, she turned and caught the image of her face in the mirror. The moon was full, so the room had just enough light pouring through the window for her to make out the black circles under her eyes and her matted, sweat-soaked hair. Then she caught a glimpse of her backside from the mirrored tub enclosure. Both her cheeks were covered with seeping red welts outlined by purplish bruising. The sight made her stomach turn.

  Her wrists were in similar condition. They had been bruised and puffy from her session last night, and now the
y oozed blood. Realizing she needed to bandage them, she bent to gather the supplies from the cabinet under the sink when everything started spinning again and she had to grab one of the doors to keep from collapsing to the floor. Her stomach lurched and she gasped for breath. She remained bent over with her fingers clutching the cabinet until the vertigo passed. After the dizzying whirls stopped, she gingerly picked up a roll of gauze along with some antiseptic cream.

  It took her over a half hour to bandage her wrists since she had to take several breaks, but once they were covered, she felt better. Rather than risk putting the supplies away, she moved them to the side so they wouldn't be in Arthur's way, then carefully returned to bed.

  As she lay on the sheets, waiting for sleep to claim her, Elly wondered if Arthur took pride in punishing her. She knew she'd made him angry, but this seemed excessive even to her. However, afterward he'd held her, then carried her to bed. He was normally distant and cold after a punishment, and yet tonight he'd been almost gentle. A change?

  She briefly considered the women who'd visited her earlier, and their desire for her company. Next, as if drawn by an invisible magnet, her thoughts fastened onto Jerry. She suspected he'd be furious if ever he found out what Arthur did to her tonight, which might cause problems for both her and Arthur, so she had to keep the inquisitive and insightful vet from suspecting the truth by pretending nothing had happened. She could manage that. She'd had so much experience at convincing others everything was fine, she even fooled herself, sometimes.

  Pride was a two-edged sword. It's what made her determined to succeed with Arthur, and what kept her from letting others know how harsh he needed to be with her. She didn't keep her windows open like Carrie Ann Nelor and Danelle because doing so would expose too much of her vulnerability to outsiders. Admitting she was a failure as a wife and a proper submissive wasn't acceptable, though she suspected others in the community harbored their own suspicions. That meant mingling with other women in the center might present a few difficulties for her. Questions may be asked she would need to either deflect or avoid. She'd have to pretend to be happy at all times, which was difficult and exhausting. But she'd enjoyed the women's visit today, and staying locked in her house did nothing to fulfill her aching desire to socialize with others.