by Cara Bristol
Melania tightened her fingers around her goblet. “I can’t imagine it being erotic. It’s painful and awful,” she said. Jared had warned her a real spanking would be different from a play one, but it literally hadn’t hit home until it actually happened. Yet she also remembered the sexual way Jared had touched her afterward. What if she hadn’t rejected his advances? Would he have kissed her and made it all better? Perhaps if she had permitted the physical intimacy in addition to the physical chastisement, it would have made a difference in her feelings now.
Liz shook her head. “Candi is right. Eroticism is part of the package. When you put your body, heart, mind, and soul in your husband’s hands with faith and acceptance, it is so intimate, it can’t help but be erotic. Even if it isn’t arousing at the time, it enhances the overall eroticism of the marriage.”
“You both make it sound so positive.” Melania clasped her hands tightly. Liz and Candi were accomplished, professional women. Normal. And they liked being spanked. She didn’t get it. Even if she could come to tolerate it, she would never want it, never like it.
“It is positive.” Candi said. “It’s positive for me. But it’s not for everyone. Some women can’t accept it, can’t surrender control to that degree. But I think if more people practiced it, they’d be happier—women and men both.”
Melania took another sip of wine. She thought she might be one of those women who couldn’t accept domestic discipline, but didn’t want to say so in light of Liz and Candi’s enthusiastic support. They had a right to pursue whatever made them happy. She just couldn’t conceive it would make her happy.
The only thing spanking had done that could remotely be construed as positive was to force her to confront her expectations about her marriage and view it through the lens of a mature woman instead of a starstruck bride. However, Melania wasn’t convinced that was positive. Ignorance had been bliss. She wanted her fairy tale. She wanted her rose-tinted glasses back!
Liz touched Melania’s arm. “It’s a lot to process. What happened today was momentous, and your emotions haven’t had time to catch up. It’s okay to feel out of sorts. One thing spanking has taught me is to move with my emotions rather than fight against them or keep them bottled up.
“Spanking has brought Otis and me so much closer together. We have an intimacy I can’t imagine having without it. And when my life gets hectic and turns me into a jitterbug, it settles my nerves and clears my head.” Liz curved her mouth into a wry smile. “On a few occasions, when I’ve felt especially stressed or short-tempered, I’ve asked Otis to spank me.”
Melania gulped the last of her wine. Even if she could put up with Jared’s discipline, she would never in a million years ask for a spanking.
Chapter Five
After pouring snifters of cognac, Jared passed around his humidor. When the two other men completed the ritual of cutting and lighting cigars, they settled into comfortable, companionable silence in Jared’s leather chairs.
At least Otis and Tucker were comfortable. Jared was too keyed up to relax. Unexpected emotions knotted inside like tangled fishing ties. Regret pricked at him. He prided himself on his ability to focus, to set a course of action and follow it. He made a decision. He executed it. He rarely looked back. So he shouldn’t question his actions now. But the more he thought about his wife, the more troubled he became. Self-doubt settled heavily on his chest. He had wanted to talk to Melania privately in the kitchen after dinner to ease his mind, but Liz Davenport inadvertently had prevented that.
With a cognac warming in his palm, a Dominican cigar clamped between his teeth, Jared eyed the spanking bench and pictured his wife draped over it, her tender backside vulnerable, her legs spread wide, her luscious pussy exposed. Despite the ache of regret, his cock hardened. Spanking his wife had stirred him in a primitive, carnal way. That her naked body had aroused him was no surprise; the sight of her always did. It was the depth of desire and the aftermath of emotion, tender and turbulent, that left him feeling as if he’d been he’d been paddled and had his attitude readjusted.
Melania’s obedience humbled him. Yet he sensed her submission was a gift given warily, and that troubled him. He had expected tears, but an underlying tenor to her weeping suggested her pain went deeper than physical discomfort. Her pain had become his; he felt her sobs as if she’d raked her fingernails across his skin.
Obedience was not the same as commitment—and he wanted both. Although his wife had consented to the spanking, she had not been ready, mentally or emotionally. Afterward, her teary hazel eyes had reproached him—when she could bring herself to look at him at all. She’d flinched when he’d touched her. He wanted his wife to respect him and his authority as head of their household, but fear him? Never.
Jared forced himself to relax his tight grip on his brandy. His father-in-law had admitted he hadn’t disciplined Melania the way he should have, but Jared didn’t blame Conner; he directed his anger at himself. As Melania’s husband and protector, he should have ensured she was prepared. Her happiness and well-being came first, and he’d failed her.
Before the wedding, Jared had warned Melania he would rule their home with a loving but firm hand. He thought he had spelled it out clearly. She’d seemed to understand.
He wondered what he could have said or done differently, but he couldn’t change the past; he could only move forward.
Jared forced his gaze from the spanking bench and studied the liquid in his snifter as he swirled the cognac. He puffed on his cigar, sending a stream of smoke into the cloud scenting the room.
Tucker broke the silence. “Nothing like a good cognac and a fine cigar.”
“Not to mention a wonderful meal. Melania’s an excellent cook,” Otis said.
Tucker patted his stomach. “Fantastic. I ate way too much.”
Jared set his brandy on the side table and placed his cigar in the ashtray. “She did a great job. She wanted everything to be special.” Melania had worked damn hard for an entire week. She’d toiled like a workhorse.
Otis sipped his cognac and looked at Jared over the snifter. “So you and Melania have settled in.” The words sounded like a statement, but Jared could hear the question of concern. He thought he’d done a good job of covering his consternation, but Otis knew how to read him. He and the older man had been friends for a long time and became closer after the death of Jared’s parents years ago.
Jared smoothed his palms over the knees of his slacks. “I spanked Melania for the first time about an hour before everyone arrived.”
Otis nodded. “I thought I recognized the signs. She was careful at how she sat in the chair.”
Jared hesitated. Domestic discipline was a personal, intimate matter. Rod and Cane members normally kept the details private, but Jared could use advice from someone more experienced, who had been there. Otis had been a disciplinarian and spankophile for more than forty years. He and Liz had been married for at least twenty-five. If anyone knew how to make a domestic discipline marriage work, Otis did. Even Tucker, who was younger than Jared by nearly a decade, had two years of a domestic discipline marriage under his belt.
“I’ve been second-guessing myself ever since.” Jared sighed. “I don’t regret spanking her. It was justified and appropriate, but Melania was not as conditioned emotionally as I had assumed she was. I wonder if I should have gone a little easier on her.”
“Why didn’t you?” Otis asked.
Jared rubbed his jaw. “Because she didn’t just make a simple mistake or an error in judgment.” Her actions had been premeditatedly sneaky. Jared had a strong hunch Melania had planned to buy the shoes the moment she’d set eyes on them. “Although what she did was minor, her intentions were serious. I felt it was important to set expectations early in the marriage.”
Jared flexed his tense shoulder blades. Although his wife’s behavior disappointed him, he didn’t want the men to judge her harshly. “Melania is young and a little immature, but with proper guidance, she’ll mat
ure into an obedient wife.”
Although Otis and Tucker were too discreet to ask, their unspoken question hovered in the air. Jared picked up his glass and stared at the liquid. “Melania went behind my back and bought a pair of shoes after I told her not to and then hid them. When I confronted her, she lied.” Jared shrugged. “I don’t care if she buys a dozen pairs of shoes. I wanted to see if she trusted me enough to follow my direction. She didn’t.” His chest tightened. Melania had not only disappointed and angered him, she’d hurt his feelings. Her trust in him wasn’t wholehearted; it was conditional.
Tucker squinted through the cigar smoke. “Don’t take it so personally, man. If our wives were perfect, they wouldn’t need to be spanked. The purpose of discipline is to correct those lapses.”
Otis puffed on his cigar. “Tucker is right. Trust takes time to grow, but appropriate discipline can hasten the process. You took the first step today.”
The knot of uncertainty in Jared’s chest loosened, but vestiges of doubt remained. “Maybe I just should have given her a few swats. Let her become accustomed to being disciplined first.”
Otis looked at him. “You know Melania better than anyone. What does your gut tell you? If you expect her to trust your judgment, you have to trust it too.”
Jared nodded at the wisdom of Otis’s words. He’d given careful forethought and consideration whether to discipline Melania. It wasn’t until afterward, when he saw how upset she was, that doubt had crept in. Of course she wouldn’t want to be spanked; it was unpleasant. She was bound to be upset and even pout a little afterward. As the leader, it was his duty to decide what was right for both of them. His heavy mood lightened a little more. Otis was correct; he needed to trust his judgment.
“That’s good advice.” Jared raised his glass to Otis.
“No matter how prepared you think they are, the first time—the first few times—requires an adjustment period on our wife’s part and ours as well,” Otis said. “Your Melania is only a little older than Liz was when I first married her. Lizzie was still in college and hadn’t decided on law as a career yet. Even though I made sure she was fully aware of my expectations, we went through a transition period.
“In the short term, discipline changes behavior. But to change attitude takes a while. A woman must process the experience, to think about why she was disciplined.” Otis set his cigar in an ashtray. “Give Melania that processing time. Expect a little sulking. Just don’t allow it to drag on. If that happens, you’ll have to step in again.”
Otis glanced at Tucker. “And for a woman to have been spanked right before dinner guests descended upon her, I’d say Melania recovered her poise exceedingly well.”
“Absolutely,” Tucker agreed.
“Thank you,” Jared said. Melania had avoided him until the arrival of their guests. During dinner she was quiet and not her bubbly self, although she acted gracious to their guests and made every effort to welcome them. She hadn’t permitted the spanking to interfere with her duties as hostess. Because he knew her, he could see the difference, but he doubted the others could.
Tucker crossed his legs, then braced an ankle on his knee. “I started spanking Candi while we were engaged. She pouted quite a bit at first.” He chuckled. “Still does sometimes. Once I spanked her twice in one day—the first time for staying out too late with her friends and not calling me, and the second time for excessive pouting. Despite occasional sullenness, she’s on board with discipline, although I think being on maintenance helps. She knows when the spanking will occur and can put herself in the right frame of mind. And me too, for that matter.”
Jared realized he’d been unrealistic in expecting a single spanking to instantly fix the situation. Domestic discipline required a lifelong commitment to the practice, much as meditation or physical exercise did. He and Melania were beginning their journey together and would find a spanking practice that provided the most beneficial outcome for them both.
Jared returned his scrutiny to the spanking bench. Rod and Cane provided much needed guidance and encouragement to engage in a lifestyle that was misunderstood by society. Yet even with the organization’s support, Jared had been a little unprepared for his duty as disciplinarian. Paddling Melania had touched him in ways he never anticipated.
He stroked his chin. “Before Melania, I had spanked a couple of girlfriends when they acted disrespectfully or mouthy, so I thought I knew what to expect. But disciplining Melania was a completely different experience.”
“How so?” Otis asked.
“Even though Melania angered me by lying, as I was spanking her, I loved her so much, it was painful.” Each strike of the paddle had seemed to ricochet through his chest. He’d lived each swat.
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “What shocked me even more was how much her submission turned me on.” He gave a self-deprecating snort of laughter. He’d been so hard by the time he’d finished, he’d thought his cock was going to explode.
Everything about Melania aroused him: her innocence, her spontaneity, her uninhibited response to his touch. It thrilled him in a possessive, primitive way that he was the first man to know her, to touch her intimately, to taste the sweetest pussy on God’s earth, and to fuck her. He loved knowing she had committed to him and to him alone.
Why wouldn’t her submission arouse him also?
Jared squeezed his eyes shut. Instantly a picture of Melania, near naked and bent over the bench, filled his mind, and he could feel his body respond to the image, the blood coursing through his veins. He opened his eyes.
Despite Melania’s reluctance, when she bowed over the form and presented her tender ass to him, heat had burned through him like wildfire whipped by the Santa Ana winds. After he’d struck her the first time with the paddle, her tender cheeks blushed immediately.
He’d expected an erotic spanking to be a turn-on, but a disciplinary one? Jared eyed Otis and Tucker, wondering if they experienced the same with their wives. They were mature, married men, not high school boys sharing their fictitious exploits in the locker room. Intimate moments, disciplinary and sexual, that a man shared with his wife were meant to be private. Yet Jared needed to release some of the emotion bottled up inside.
“I didn’t expect—” Jared broke off and looked away. “The pinker her ass became, well, the more it turned me on.” His frank words sounded almost crude, but they were true. He’d had to force himself to focus on the discipline and not on coloring her ass.
Christ, he was getting hard again thinking about it. He shifted in his seat.
“Non-spankos don’t understand the eroticism of discipline.” Otis nodded.
“Candi and I have our best sex after a spanking. That’s another great thing about maintenance,” Tucker added.
Jared pinched the bridge of his nose, recalling how the spanking he’d given Melania had had the opposite effect. “Melania wouldn’t let me touch her.” He’d wanted to comfort and soothe her, to make love to her and deepen the intimacy, but she had rejected his overture—rejected him. Her quiet “don’t” had been nonnegotiable.
“She will,” Tucker said confidently.
“Give her a little time,” Otis added. “Even though wives might appear to rebel, having a strong, dominant husband is a turn-on, and the marriage becomes more passionate.”
That seemed impossible. Melania had sobbed during the spanking and wouldn’t look at him afterward. Every time he touched her during the evening, she had tensed or flinched. Christ, what if she was afraid of him now? What would he do?
Eroticism wasn’t the purpose of domestic discipline anyway. A punishment spanking wasn’t supposed to be pleasant. If it was, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose? Jared sighed. Melania’s withdrawal had been the more appropriate response.
He couldn’t imagine Melania’s sobs of pain turning into cries of passion. He would have to resign himself to the fact that spanking Melania would be a sexually frustrating act. Jared smoothed his palms down his thigh
s. He didn’t know how he would endure the evening without touching her.
He braced himself for a long, uncomfortable night.
Chapter Six
Melania waved to their departing guests and reentered the foyer of their home. Alone again. Alone with Jared. She flattened a calming hand against her fluttering stomach. She had dreaded this moment all evening.
After the women had finished the dishes and the men had smoked their cigars, the couples had reconvened in the living room for a final cup of coffee.
Jared had patted the sofa seat beside him, giving her no choice but to sit next to him. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and when he stretched his arm over the sofa back, the heat from his bare skin enveloped her in an aura of warmth, disturbing in its pleasant intimacy. She didn’t understand why the simple gesture aroused her when her emotions were so unsettled. She should have been immune.
Every time he had shifted, his thigh had brushed hers, and her butt cheeks had tingled as the sofa cushion moved. She’d found herself inhaling, taking in the rich scent of cognac and the bitter-pleasant odor of cigar. Memories of tender, intimate moments surfaced, warring with remembrances of the too recent, too painful events in Jared’s office.
The women’s confidences and concern had provided another perspective of domestic discipline, but that only muddied the waters instead of clearing them. As much as she loved Jared and desired to be obedient, she couldn’t endure another spanking. Poised in her foyer, she shook her head with confusion. Liz and Candi had raved about it. How could their experience be so different from hers?
What the heck was she going to do? She didn’t have a clue, although she realized she needed to consider her situation carefully and not act impulsively. Her future was at stake. She was a married woman—at least for the time being—and any decision she made would affect the rest of her life. Running away wouldn’t solve her dilemma. Thank goodness her father hadn’t been home when she called.
