Over the Knee

by Ashe Barker, Lily Harlem, Katy Swann, Wendi Zwaduk, Lucy Felthouse, Dolly Watt

  * * * *

  I glance again at the clock on my mantelpiece. Twenty past three. Josh didn’t say what time I should expect him, but roast beef suggests lunch, doesn’t it? In the past we always ate somewhere toward late afternoon on a Sunday so I sort of assumed…

  I bend to check my oven, satisfy myself that the hunk of finest topside is roasting nicely, and so are my potatoes and parsnips. I’ve prepared some other vegetables to steam later when we’re ready to eat, and even mixed batter for Yorkshire puddings. Very domestic.

  However this encounter turns out—and I’m reasonably certain on at least some of the prospects offered—I’ve arrived at the realization that I want to be on good terms with Josh. I could have ended our marriage already, all I had to do was apply to the court for the decree absolute and it would have been over. He could have done the same thing, but neither of us has. It’s not that I didn’t think of it, but there was never a time I actually wanted to take that final, irrevocable step. I don’t know why Josh didn’t—another matter to ask him about. When he arrives.

  If he arrives. What if he’s changed his mind? What if he doesn’t turn up?

  He will, though, he has my car and my car keys. Josh is reliable. He’d deliver those even if he had thought better of, of…

  The empty, gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach leaves me under no illusion regarding how a no-show would affect me. I’d be disappointed, devastated even. And not just because I’m still feeling aroused from yesterday’s incredible events. I do want him, I do long to haul Josh off to my bedroom—assuming we even get that far—but I also want that talk he was so insistent on. If I’m honest—and I usually am, at least with myself—I would like a chance to try again at my marriage. And the fact he wants to talk is a good sign, surely…

  He was spanking me hard as he spoke to me yesterday, but I heard every word he said. And he was right. I should have been more patient. I could have waited. I could have given him time to find a solution for us. I could have, should have trusted him.

  I take a seat at my dining table and reach for the magazine that dropped out of my Sunday paper. I pretend an interest in the television schedules and celebrity gossip as I turn the pages, all the time listening for the growl of an engine in my drive.

  I almost don’t recognize it when I do at last hear the low purr of a motor. I rush to the window, and there it is. My ruby red, practical Nissan hatchback just pulling up in front of my garage doors. Josh is behind the wheel, and he looks up at the window as he switches off the engine. He offers me a smile and a wave, but I don’t wave back. I’m too caught up in watching him uncoil his long legs from my car then turning to retrieve a bunch of flowers from the passenger seat. It’s only as he strides across the gravel toward my front door that I bethink myself to go and let him in.

  I rush to open the door, then just beam at him as he stands there, the flowers in his arms. He grins at me, then winks. My pussy is wet, my stomach in knots. The roast beef will have to wait.

  I point to the flowers. “Are those for me?”

  Josh often brought me gifts in the past—small things, a book, a piece of costume jewelry, an ornament picked up on his travels with the army. Sometimes it might have been a paddle or nipple clamps if he felt so inclined. I hadn’t expected anything today.

  “Of course. And this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a large tube of arnica. “I thought you might appreciate both of them.”

  “Yes, probably.” I rub my still-tender behind. “You have a heavy hand, Sir.”

  “Thank you. And while we’re exchanging pleasantries, may I say that your bottom is every bit as delightful as I recall. Are you going to let me in and show it to me again?”

  “I… Oh, yes. Please, come in.” I take the flowers and the tube of ant-inflammatory and step back to allow him to pass me. “Just straight ahead. I was in the dining room.”

  “Mmm, something smells good. Will it spoil if we leave it for an hour or so? As I recall, we were in the middle of something yesterday.”

  “I can turn the oven down.”

  “Do that, Libby.” He leans on the door frame at the entrance to my dining room and turns the full force of that smile on me. My stomach clenches, my pussy moistens even more. I’ll be needing a change of underwear before long. Or better still, no underwear. I scuttle past him to attend to my roast beef.

  “There’s a beer in the fridge. Or coffee?” I call to him from the kitchen

  “Maybe later. How did your night out go?”

  “It was great. We had a meal then went to the cinema. We saw the Fifty Shades movie.”

  He laughs, a sensuous, rich sound which melts my insides.

  “What did you think of it?”

  I glance back to find he’s followed me and is casting appreciative glances at my rear end as I bend to look in the oven. More moisture pools in my knickers. I straighten.

  “Not a lot, really. It was more fun watching the audience. The film wasn’t very realistic.”

  “No, I imagine not. And you’d know.”

  “Yes, I suppose. But we were curious and, it was sort of fun…”

  “There’s a lot to be said for fun. Talking of which, drop your pants, lift your skirt and bend over the worktop please. I’d like to admire my handiwork again. I didn’t have enough time yesterday.”

  Ah, right. Whereas there’s no hurry at all today.

  “Should I take my skirt right off, Sir?”

  “Yes, that might be best.” He hitches one hip on the worktop on the opposite side of my kitchen, clearly intending to watch.

  I loosen the button at the side of my waist and let the skirt drop to the tiles at my feet. I step out of it, then peel off my briefs. I wasn’t wearing any tights or shoes. My T-shirt falls to just below my waist, so he has a pretty much unimpeded view of my waxed pussy and, when I turn, my pink and crimson striped bottom.

  Josh gives a low whistle as I bend at the waist and rest my elbows on the kitchen counter.

  “Christ, that looks so hot. Fucking gorgeous, Libby.”

  “Thank you, Sir. Would you like me to remove the rest of my clothes?”

  “Soon. Not quite yet, though. Are you wet, Libby?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re here, and…this. I want you. So much.”

  Please don’t make some sarcastic remark about it being my fault we’ve been apart. Please don’t say anything, not now…

  “I want you too, sweetheart. But first…may I touch?”

  I hear his footsteps as he approaches to stand right behind me. I widen my stance, even though he didn’t ask me to spread my legs. I just…hope. That’s all.

  “Yes, Sir. Please do.” I close my eyes, then let out a soft hiss as he trails his fingertip along one particularly glowing stripe. I know the one—I’d admired it myself this morning after my shower, reflected in the mirrored wall of my bathroom.

  “Have you put anything on this yet?”

  “No, Sir. I wanted you to see.”

  “Thank you, Libby. Would you like me to?”

  “Yes please.” I relax into my position, my cheek cradled on my forearms as he unscrews the tube of cream and squirts some onto his fingers. “Could you rub it in, quite hard, Sir?”

  “I remember how you like it, love. Tell me when it’s enough.” He proceeds to smooth the cream across my sore bottom, the pressure of his fingers firm as he works it into the damaged skin.

  I know from experience that the marks will fade fast, nothing will be visible in a couple of days. The cream might help, I’m not sure, but it’s the shared intimacy of the application that I loved.

  Josh rests his free hand on the worktop beside my head and leans over me as he massages my sore places. “Wider, Libby. Open for me.” His voice is a soft, seductive whisper, but that thread of indefinable steel is there, his Dom voice.

  I obey him, naturally.

  “I brought more presents for you. Do you wa
nt to see what I brought, or would you prefer to stay there with your eyes closed and guess?”

  “I’ll guess, if that’s all right, Sir.”

  “Ah, such an adventurous little slut. No peeping then.” He drops a kiss on my temple before he straightens.

  “Aagh, what was that?” I jump as something cool and wet lands on my bum and dribbles down between my butt cheeks.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. Try a guess.”

  Josh’s fingers follow the cool, slick liquid and finds the tight ring of muscle between my buttocks. He circles, easing the lube around my arse before inserting the tip of his finger. I let out a groan.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, Sir. It’s just— It’s been a while. That’s all.”

  “I see.” He presses harder, sinking the rest of his finger into my arse.

  I rotate my hips, loving the rush of sensation, the heady tug of submission. Josh withdraws his finger, then drives it in again, the stroke long and slick. He pulls out altogether, only to return with two well-lubed digits, and finger-fucks my arse as I writhe on the kitchen counter. A fluttering thought about food hygiene drifts momentarily across my consciousness, to be exiled immediately as he twists his fingers inside me. His other hand comes into play too as he eases three fingers between my pussy lips, then pulls them out to smear my juices all over my throbbing clit.

  “Christ, Sir. I’m going to come. May I…?”

  “No, Libby, you may not. Don’t move. I have another little present.”

  My mouth is slack, my breathing ragged as he withdraws his teasing, tantalizing fingers from me again. Not for long, though. He uses one hand to part my buttocks, then something hard presses against my arsehole again.

  “Libby, reach back and spread your cheeks for me.” The instruction is curt and clipped, but there is nothing cold about it. Josh is concentrating on me, his entire attention focused on what’s happening between us.

  I have no hesitation in doing as he instructs. I hold my buttocks apart while he eases something past the sphincter guarding my inner space. It’s small. Not a butt plug, I think. It slips in easily but doesn’t feel to be complete yet. Sure enough, as I remain in place he presses again, and something else smooth and round follows the first object. Then another, and another.

  Anal beads. Must be. And a rare treat. Josh has remembered how much I love these, and my pussy quivers in anticipation of what’s to come. However displeased he might have seemed yesterday as he spanked me, these toys are all about pleasure. My pleasure. I wriggle my hips, silently begging for more.

  “Liking these, eh?”

  “Yes. Yes, Sir. How many more?”

  “Just two.”

  “Mmm…” I squirm as he slides the remaining pair into place, then keep still as he stands to caress my bottom.

  “You can let go now, love. We’re all finished.”

  I’d forgotten I was holding my buttocks apart. I release my grip and would have resumed my pose against the counter, but Josh is having none of that.

  “You can lead the way to your bedroom now, girl. Come on. After you.”

  I stand up straight, and the beads shift inside me. They feel delightful. I squeeze down on them as I take a cautious step forward and have to clutch Josh’s arm to maintain my balance. The sensation is very intense.

  “Okay?” He steadies me, one eyebrow raised.

  I nod, not sure what other response would be appropriate.

  “Right. Move it then.” He taps me on the bum as I start for the door.

  I get as far as the bottom of my stairs when the beads burst into life, whirring and vibrating inside me. I lurch forward to lean on the steps. “Oh, wow! That’s new.”

  Josh chuckles as he scoops me into his arms and carries me up the flight of stairs. “Which room?”

  I point to the one at the end of the landing, and he carries me in there. He deposits me on my bed and stands back to watch as I stretch and writhe on top of the duvet.

  “You can take the rest of your clothes off now, Libby.”

  I open my eyes to see he is already draping his jacket over the chair under my window. He pauses to close the curtains, then switches on the light. He slants a glance at me. “Naked. Now.”

  I waste no further time in tugging my T-shirt over my head and losing my bra. Josh is almost as quick to be rid of his shirt, jeans, shoes and socks. His erection is tenting his boxers, and I watch, my mouth watering as he drops those and kicks them away. He climbs onto the bed beside me.

  “I want you on all fours.”

  Yes! My favorite position. I roll over and scramble up. I’d half-expected him to perhaps instruct me to kneel beside the bed and suck his cock while the beads tormented me from inside. I’d have done it, willingly, but this is so much better. I want him inside me. Now. No preamble, no tantalizing build up. Just deep, and hard, and fast. A perfect ‘I’ve missed you’ fuck.

  The bed dips as Josh moves into position behind me. His cock is poised at the entrance to my pussy, nudging between my lips. He holds it there for several precious, infuriating seconds. I want to push back, to force the pace, but I know better than that. Josh is a stern, controlling Dom. He never allows me to lead. Or should that be allowed? I’m confused, my whole body thrumming with desire as he works his old, effortless magic, pressing all my buttons.

  “I told you yesterday. You have to learn to be patient, to wait. You’ll have what you want, what you need. I never let you down. Do I?”

  “No, Sir. Never.”

  “Why didn’t you wait, Libby? Why didn’t you wait for me to come home, then we could have talked.”

  I make no pretense about not understanding him. “I, I… I tried but you didn’t listen. You never listened. You wanted the army, that life.”

  “What did you want, Libby? What is it you want now?”

  “You! You, you you! I wanted you. I wanted you alive, with me. I couldn’t bear to lose you. Not ever.”

  “Yet you left me.”

  “Leaving isn’t losing. You weren’t dead. I wanted you to see. To understand. I didn’t know what else to do.” I’m sobbing into the duvet now, desperate to feel the glorious stretch as he enters me, but scared too, scared that this might be the only time, then he’ll be gone again. Like he always was before.

  “I’m here now. Do you still want me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, now, or yes always?”

  “Always. I want you to stay. Just, please… I can’t wait any longer.”

  I fall forward and let out a scream as he drives his cock deep into me, right to the hilt. He’s huge, solid, filling me. He holds still, and I’m nearly overwhelmed by the dual sensation of the vibrating in my arse and the stretching in my pussy. Still not moving inside me, Josh reaches around and under me to find my clit. He flicks it, hard, then rubs.

  “Don’t you dare come, Libby. Not until I tell you to. I listened to you, now I want you to hear me out. Are you listening, Libby? Really listening?

  “Yes, Sir.” I drag in a long breath, hoping to contain the surge of arousal coursing through my body. The shuddering in my pussy suggests I won’t have long.

  “I loved you. I loved you more than anything, certainly more than the army. That was a job, you were my life. I knew how you felt. I knew how frightened you were. I took no unnecessary risks but I had to complete my service. I did that, and I came home. To you. But you wouldn’t wait. You were already gone.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I never thought you’d leave the Paras. You didn’t say. I was so sure I’d lose you.”

  “So you made sure of it. By divorcing me.”

  “I didn’t divorce you. I never…”

  “No. Now that was interesting. I do wonder why you didn’t get the decree absolute.”

  “I couldn’t. Just couldn’t. It would have been too final. Even though I thought you were still there, in the desert. Until yesterday…”

  He strokes my clit again. “Ah, ye
s. Yesterday. Such a pleasant surprise to arrive at Scents ready to read someone the riot act, and who should I find but my sweet, submissive little wife. And still as hot as ever.”

  “Please, Josh. Sir. Just fuck me. I’m sorry, I need you. Now.”

  “I know. But I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. You have to wait, be patient. I want to know that you’ve learned that much. Have you, Libby?”

  “I have. I know that I should have had faith, and trusted you to come back safe. Forgive me. Please, I need you back.”

  “I am back. To stay. Is that all right with you, Libby?”

  “God, yes! Now. Please, Josh, now… Oh! Aaah…”

  He withdraws his cock, only to slide it deep into me again, the stroke long and smooth, filling me entirely. I shiver, squeeze around him, and my pussy starts to convulse as my orgasm threatens to escape me.

  “Sir, I need to come. Please, please…”

  “Now. Come for me now, Libby.” He withdraws and thrusts again, harder now, faster. His fingers are caressing my clit, stroking the swollen bud as I start to lose control. Grateful, I sink into my climax, loving the waves of pleasure as they sweep through me, reaching every corner of me, filling all my empty, cold places, rinsing away the aching loneliness of two years without him. Without this.

  As the tremors start to subside, Josh leans back and takes hold of the finger grip on the anal beads. He pulls them from me, the stroke swift and powerful, sending my system back into overdrive. I can’t contain the scream of pure delight as he draws another climax from me, stronger this time, humming through me as I sob my pleasure into the duvet.

  Moments later, Josh sinks his cock deep and holds it, his erection quivering inside my pussy as he pumps his jizz into me. I collapse under his weight, and we both sprawl across the mattress, still connected.

  Josh pulls me up against him, my back to his chest. “I intend to hold you to that, you know. All of it. Even if it was a promise extracted under duress.” He kisses my hair.

  I wriggle against him. “Duress? What duress? I call it fair trade.”

  “Mmm. Do you think your roast beef will be ready anytime soon?”

  “I reckon we’re good for an hour or so yet.”