She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain. She’d just flown off the handle and accused him of being abusive. How could she have done such a thing to him? Thoroughly miserable, Lainie made her way gratefully into her own house, stumbled into their bedroom, and flung herself on the bed. Sitting up against the headboard, she drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, curling into a ball of guilt and misery.
She was still there when Grant came in sometime later. His hair was wet with sweat and plastered to his forehead. He went to the dresser and began to pull out clean clothes, but when he looked up and saw her, he stopped and came over to sit beside her.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said gently. “It’ll be okay. Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
Lainie stared at him, stunned and confused. “Of course not,” she told him. “What are you talking about? I deserved every bit of what I got. I was horrible to you, and I’m so so sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Grant argued. “I never should’ve touched you when I was angry and not in control. That’s not the way spanking is supposed to work. Matt made that very clear. In fact, he told me in no uncertain terms that he would kick my ass if I ever laid a hand on you in anger, and I have every intention of letting him.”
“I was the one who was out of control,” Lainie insisted. “You were right. I was throwing a tantrum like a toddler, and you stopped it. I don’t know what you think you’ve done wrong, but it wasn’t. You did exactly the right thing.”
Grant stared at her for a long moment. Then, abruptly, he started to laugh. “Listen to us. We are both trying to convince the other one that we are the ones that screwed up not them.”
Lainie flashed him a small, watery smile. They must’ve sounded ridiculous.
“How about we agree we both screwed up?” Grant suggested.
Lainie nodded. “Okay,” she said shakily.
“Okay,” Grant agreed. “Now, since we both screwed up, and we both apologized, let’s just call it even and put it behind us. Deal?”
“Deal,” Lainie said.
“Great,” Grant said. “Since you’re not sure about it, let’s just table talking about maintenance till another day. I don’t think either of us are really able to think about it clearly right now.” Lainie nodded. Grant bent and kissed her, brief but surprisingly possessive. “I need a shower,” he said. He gathered up the clothes he had started to collect and disappeared into the bathroom.
Lainie tried to put it behind her like she had agreed that they would. She really did, but her mind just refused to let it go. She had been wrestling with it for hours. No matter how hard she tried it wouldn’t go away. It was still haunting her even as she slid into bed later that night, turning automatically onto her side, her back to Grant, and curling up. She should’ve never called Grant abusive. It was an awful thing to say, hateful, hurtful, and downright mean. Grant said he had forgiven her, and she believed him. So why did she still feel so guilty? No matter how much she tried to reason it away, her heart still ached like a bruise and the knot in her stomach stubbornly refused to dissolve. She sighed, swallowing hard against the rush of emotion. How could she have been so thoughtless?
Behind her, Grant shifted and sat up, sitting back against the headboard. “Okay, let’s have it. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Lainie said softly.
“I know better than that,” Grant said. “You’ve been moping around all night. Something’s clearly bothering you. Talk to me.” When she didn’t answer, he tapped her hip firmly. “Hey, honesty, remember?”
The tap was entirely painless, even with only the thin sheet as covering, but her mind had been on spanking all day today, and the implication was clear. Being honest with one another was the first rule on their list of rules. Grant had insisted on it, and he had been clear that he included withholding things from him in the same category as an outright lie. Lainie agreed with him in theory. Of course they should be honest with one another, but surely she was entitled to some privacy. Being honest didn’t mean she had to share every thought just because he wanted to hear it, did it? Surely not. Besides, this was just silly. She would shake it eventually. There was no need for him to know how stupid she was being.
“Lainie,” he said again, and this time the warning was very clear. “Answer me, please. I don’t want to push this, but I will if I have to.”
“It’s stupid,” Lainie protested.
“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you,” Grant insisted. “Are you still upset about earlier?”
Reluctantly, Lainie nodded.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I never should have handled it like that. I was angry, and I reacted without thinking. That’s no excuse, but it’s the truth. That’s not what DD should be like. I’m so sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t,” Lainie broke again. “I was surprised but not scared, not for a moment. That’s not what I mean. I can’t believe I said that to you.”
“I know you didn’t mean it,” Grant said. He rubbed her shoulder gently, comforting. Then, just as gently, he tugged her over onto her back so he could see her face. “You reacted in the heat of the moment, just like I did. We both made mistakes, but it’s over. Let it go. I forgive you.”
She knew he did. She could see it in every line of his face. The look he was giving her was so loving and gentle it made tears threaten to well up again. “I know,” she said softly. How could she possibly explain that was the problem? She didn’t deserve his forgiveness. It had been an awful thing to say, calling him an abuser. He’d proven over and over again that he was anything but abusive. If anything, he seemed to be going out of his way to be particularly helpful and solicitous since their argument, and the more he did, the guiltier she felt. Suddenly restless, she pushed herself into a sitting position, staring down at her lap. “I just feel so awful. You’re not like that, ever. I should never have said that. I’m so, so sorry.”
Grant slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her over into his side. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Really, I understand.”
“No, it’s not,” Lainie said miserably.
Grant reached down and caught her chin, tilting her head up to look in her eyes. He studied her face for a long moment. Abruptly, he let go and stood up. “All right, let’s go.”
Lainie stared at him, dumbfounded. “Go? It’s after midnight. What are you talking about?”
“Go wait for me in the office,” he said by way of explanation. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Until that moment, Lainie would’ve never believed that a simple, everyday word like office could have such as sinister connotation, but that simple instruction was deceptively sinister. From the moment they had first seen the house that would be theirs, Grant had been adamant that any discipline that was necessary would take place in the office. Their bedroom was to be a sanctuary. Any less than pleasant business belonged in the office. He had never sent her there before, but it could only mean one thing.
“We don’t need to go there,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “It’s the middle of the night. Besides, I’m just being stupid. I’ll get over it.” Before she could fully get the words out, Grant had pulled her out of bed, set her on her feet, and swatted her hard enough to make her yelp.
“You are not stupid,” he said fiercely. “You might possibly be the stubbornest woman I have ever met, but you are not stupid. Move.”
She was halfway out the door before her brain ever registered she was moving. Something about that tone made her body move independently of her brain. She stepped into the office, which at the moment contained little more than a battered couch left over from their first apartment and the large heavy wooden desk Grant had found in a little antique shop in Chapel Hill and refused to leave without. It was battered, badly scratched, and in dire need of refinishing. Lainie had tried her best to tell him that it was impractical to move, and they could surely find something similar after they had moved, but Grant was having non
e of it. The desk had gone home with them and made the cross-country trek to Colorado. It held court from the center of the office, surrounded by stacks of boxes that primarily held Lainie’s school supplies and likely wouldn’t be unpacked until August. At a loss for what else to do, Lainie stepped over several scattered boxes and perched on the edge of the couch. Her palms were sweating and her stomach was resolutely trying to make its way out of her throat. She hadn’t the slightest doubt of what was going to happen now. Why couldn’t her stubborn brain have just shut up?
Grant watched Lainie go into the office before taking a deep breath and running his hands through his hair. What the hell was he going to do now? Well, obviously, he was going to have to spank Lainie, and really spank her this time, not just a few swats in the heat of the moment. He’d known since he talked to Matt that he was going to eventually have to bite the bullet. He was doing them both a disservice by hesitating, but he hadn’t expected it to happen quite as fast. He’d moved on instinct when it became obvious that Lainie was still feeling guilty and needing something more to be able to forgive herself, but when she had disappeared into the other room so had his façade of confidence.
Okay, pull it together, Grant. It’s just a spanking. You have been on the receiving end often enough. Maybe not in 20 years, but you understand the mechanics of things. You’re the one that wanted to institute domestic discipline. Now it’s time to make good on it. He swallowed hard. How was he going to do this? Obviously, the simplest thing would be to just put her over his knee and take his hand to her backside, but something in him hesitated. He could still hear his grandfather clearly saying, “Hands are for loving, son. Sure, I’m not above a quick swat in a pinch, but I don’t ever want you or any of the others to fear my hands.” It was probably silly. He knew enough about DD to know that plenty of people spanked barehanded, and his grandfather’s sentiment didn’t necessarily hold true, but it was so ingrained that it violated his sense of rightness to go against it. He couldn’t do it.
The trouble was, they were so new to this he didn’t have a lot of options. He had belts, of course, but that seemed unnecessarily harsh, not to mention he wasn’t at all sure he could control a belt to his satisfaction. Lainie’s hair brush? A wooden spoon? Both were available, but neither one felt right. Lainie’s brush was a flimsy modern plastic thing that didn’t look like it would hold up against a hard fall much less the kind of spanking Lainie needed. Dammit, he needed a paddle. Wait a minute...
He stepped into the closet and dug around until he found the welcome basket Brent had given him when they moved in. It had included an official Corbin’s Bend paddle. Grant picked it up and gripped it, considering. It was solid and hefty, though fairly small, rectangular shaped, perhaps a foot long and three quarters of an inch thick. It was clearly meant to pack a punch. He swung it lightly against his leg and winced, surprised at the intensity of the sting. No, it would do nicely for a serious punishment, but it was too heavy for what he needed now. He had suspected it would be. It was thicker and heavier than the one Grant’s father had used throughout his childhood.
That thought stopped him in his tracks. He dropped the paddle back into the basket and headed for the garage. He was an idiot... a complete idiot. Flipping a switch and blinking in the harsh glare of the overhead light, he weaved his way through the boxes stacked in the garage. Thankfully, he had moved these particular boxes himself and knew exactly where the ones he needed were. Years ago, when his mother had moved to her current retirement community in Florida, she had boxed up some of his father’s things that she thought Grant might want and given them to him. Much to Grant’s amusement, she had included his father’s paddle, assuming that he, like his father and grandfather before him, was the Head of Household and disciplinarian for his family. Since at the time he was not and had no use for it, Grant had never taken the paddle out of the box. He had simply kept it in storage along with the other things as family heirlooms, never dreaming he might one day have a use for it. It took rummaging through two of the boxes, but he located the paddle, still wrapped carefully in one of his mother’s dishtowels. He took it out and carried it into the house, snapping off lights and closing doors behind him as he went.
Yes, this was perfect for what he needed. It was roughly the same size and shape as the Corbin’s Bend paddle but thinner and much lighter weight. He knew from considerable experience that this particular paddle, while it stung like blazes, relied much more on repetition than the weight of the paddle itself for its impact. He himself had endured more than one long hard spanking with this paddle without ever having more than a very red sore rear and the very occasional light bruise left behind. Part of that was undoubtedly due to his father’s skill on the subject, but at least he didn’t have to fear doing true damage this way. Besides, if he were really honest, the sentimental part of him that he didn’t like to think about much less really admit existed, thought it was appropriate that when he spanked his wife for the first time it would be with his father’s paddle. He was still incredibly nervous, but it helped.
Lainie was waiting for him perched on the edge of the couch in the office. She looked as scared as he felt, wide-eyed and pale, chewing on her bottom lip. His old T-shirt hung to her knees and had fallen partway off one shoulder. She looked like nothing so much as a scared little girl. Part of him would have liked nothing better than to gather her in his arms and reassure her that she was forgiven and everything would be okay, but he’d been telling her that for hours now, and it hadn’t helped. He needed to help her forgive herself. Grant took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this.
Lainie’s eyes fixed on the paddle in his hand and her breathing quickened. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Where did that come from?” she blurted.
“It was Dad’s,” he answered, coming to sit beside her. He laid the paddle on the couch cushion beside him in easy reach and took Lainie’s hands in his own. She was trembling slightly, and he rubbed his hands up her arms, hoping to soothe her. “Mom sent it to me when she moved to Florida, but I’ve never had occasion to use it until now.”
“You don’t need to use it now either,” Lainie replied. “I’m fine, really. I can deal with this. You don’t need to...do...that.”
“I think I do.” Though he wouldn’t have dared show it, Grant was amused that, for all Lainie’s protests, she hadn’t once tried to get up or leave. She needed this whether she would admit it or not. “You’re wallowing in guilt and beating yourself up. That can hurt you just as much as doing something dangerous that would get you hurt physically.” Lainie’s eyes flicked to the cork board leaning against the far wall waiting to be hung where their handwritten list of rules was posted. The prohibition against doing anything dangerous or otherwise not taking care of herself featured prominently on the list.
“But that’s not a rule,” Lainie whined.
“Logically, I’m not going to allow one and not the other,” Grant said. “I’m not going to stand for anything that hurts you, Lainie, physically or mentally.” Hoping to forestall any further arguments, he pulled her to her feet and around to his right side.
“How can you say that when you’re going to hurt me?” Lainie argued.
“I’m not,” Grant told her, “and I never will, at least not intentionally. A spanking may hurt, but I’m ultimately doing it to help you, not hurt you.”
“It’s still going to hurt,” Lainie muttered.
Grant ignored her, focusing instead on reaching beneath her T-shirt to hook his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pull them down.
“Nooooo!” Lainie screeched. “It’s bad enough as it is, not bare!”
“That’s what you can always expect. If it’s sufficient enough to warrant a full spanking, it will always be on your bare bottom. You’re not a child who might be corrected by a few swats over her clothes.”
“But...” Lainie spluttered.
“Besides, I tried that earlier and it wasn’t enough, remem
ber?”
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I keep trying to tell you I’m fine.”
Grant paid no heed to her protests. Situating himself well back on the couch, he took her firmly by the arm and guided her over his knees so that her head and upper body rested on the couch cushion. Owing to the difference in their heights, this also left her feet dangling off the floor. He wrapped his left arm around her waist to steady her and pushing the end of her T-shirt out of the way, picked up the paddle.
Even as it was happening, some part of Lainie’s brain couldn’t believe Grant was actually going to do this. It couldn’t really be real, could it? Except that she was pretty sure any minute now she was going to start hyperventilating and throwing up was a serious possibility. She was horribly aware of the cool air on her bare backside and every nerve in her body seemed to have flared simultaneously into intense awareness. Those sensations were far too real to be imagined. How could this have possibly happened? She’d never been spanked in her life before today, and now, suddenly, she had managed to get spanked twice in the space of a few hours. What the hell?
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