Of course Carlton had to pause and keep her abreast of exactly what was happening as if she didn’t know. “That was the warm up. You took it very well. The next twenty will be slightly harder. Please keep your hands on the bed in front of you. If you throw them back, that one won’t count and we will have to start over. Also, you will count these out loud.”
She rolled her eyes, even as she automatically answered, “Yes, Sir.” She was feeling pretty confident at this point.
Every ounce of confidence whooshed out of her in an anguished cry with the first connection of hand to buttock. Every ounce of strength from his well-toned muscles had gone into that one swat—of that she was sure.
“You didn’t count, Cecily. You need to count.”
“One!”
“Too late. We have to start over.” He raised his arm high above her bottom, and she clenched up in anticipation.
“Relax your bottom, Cecily.”
Relax her bottom? Was he crazy? There was no way he could possibly have any idea of the pain she was anticipating right now.
His hand came down and rested across her cheeks, lightly rubbing, and she sighed. Her cheeks and the rest of her went limp against him, and as soon as that happened, he drew his hand back and brought it down again, hard. “Ouch, Carlton, stop! That’s too hard—it hurts!”
“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to hurt, darling.” His hand fell again—in exactly the same spot—and she forced herself to breathe through the pain.
“One!” She was afraid to forget, as she just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Nineteen more. Unless, you want to go out there and tell your mother the truth.”
She thought about it, she really did. But the thought still made her sick to her stomach. And as much as her ass was begging her to stop, this was an experience she actually wanted to have. Just this once though. After that, no more lies.
She didn’t say anything, and he began to spank in earnest. They developed a rhythm of their own—he would spank, she would count. There was no pattern this time, and she had no idea where the next swat was going to fall, but she was managing to keep it together now that she knew what to expect. When they hit ten, she felt his weight shift underneath her and if she hadn’t put her hands out, she would have face-planted into the mattress.
She had read enough books to know what was about to happen. It still didn’t prepare her for the sting of his hard paddle like hand against the super-sensitive crease of her thigh.
“Eleeeveenn!” It felt like she sat on a hill of fire ants.
“Twelve!”
The fire ants were lighting little bonfires on her ass.
“Thirteen!”
They were throwing a party and roasting marshmallows.
She couldn’t concentrate on the pain. She could only force herself to keep counting. Luckily, Carlton had picked up the pace and though still hard as hell, the last seven swats landed in quick succession.
When she cried out the final number in a loud, triumphant scream, she collapsed against his leg and began sobbing.
“Owie! Owie! Owie.” Her sobs died to tired whispers. She fervently hoped that he would forget that she had ten more coming, with the hairbrush of all things, but she knew it was wishful thinking. Carlton was methodical, determined, and he always stuck to his word. It was one of the things that she loved most about him, usually, but today she was cursing him for it.
He let her lay there for a while, and she wondered if he had forgotten, or at the very least changed his mind. It was a case of wishful thinking. Carlton rubbed her back lightly until her breathing returned to normal, and then with a soft pat to her backside, he told her to get up and retrieve her hairbrush from her suitcase.
It was the moment of truth. She recognized it as she shuffled over to the suitcase, fervently wishing that it was a much farther walk. If only the suitcases were across the room by the door instead of just on the other side of the bed, she might have had more time to get her thoughts together, or even just to let her ass cool down. Carlton was watching her closely, and she knew instinctively that dawdling was not a good idea.
The heroes in her books never took well to dawdling either. Truth be told, she much preferred reading about punishment spankings than being on the receiving end of one. It was nothing like the “funishment” spankings she had received while they were fooling around. The funniest thing was, she was pretty sure he wasn’t striking much harder than he had before, but she was coming to realize that it just hurt a hell of a lot more when it was well deserved.
Grabbing the heavy wooden brush from the front pocket of her over-sized suitcase, she mentally cursed the fact that she even owned a brush like this. If she had been smart, she would have thrown it out in favor of a cheap plastic one the minute she first read about it being used for spanking. Of course, she couldn’t have possibly foreseen this scenario. Fantasized about it sure, but she would have never expected it to actually happen.
The walk to Carlton was only about ten short steps, and she took each one as slowly as she could, placing the brush into his extended hand with a grimace.
He carefully laid it beside him on the bed, taking her hand and guiding her gently to lay across his lap once more, before picking up the brush again.
She was thankful for the small gesture of placing her across his knee, as she wasn’t sure she would have been able to place herself there a second time. Although she was sure it would be fruitless, she couldn’t help but plead her case.
“I’ve learned my lesson,” she whispered.
She could feel the movement of Carlton shaking his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “Naughty wives who lie get their backsides blistered with their brush. You would do well to remember that while we are here. If I catch you in any more lies—or if any more lies come to light—you’ll be back over my knee for more.”
She squirmed.
“I mean it, Cecily. I am very serious and fully plan on keeping up my end of our bargain for the next five days. So if there are any more lies you have told, it’s in your best interest to come clean now.”
He tapped her bottom lightly with the brush before letting the cool wood rest upon her scorched skin for a moment. There was a niggling in the back of her brain, and she wondered if there was indeed another lie that might come to light, but she couldn’t focus. Not with her backside throbbing. Not with the weight of the brush reminding her of what would soon come. Not with the moisture pooling between her legs. What was this? Oh, god, what was wrong with her? She hoped he didn’t notice.
“Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
She racked her brain, working it overtime to find the cause of the niggling, but came up short. Holidays, the ethos of Corbin’s Bend, and lying about their relationship. That had to be all, wasn’t it? He was waiting for an answer.
“No, Sir.”
“Good then, we can begin. Ten with your hairbrush. I’ll count.”
Cecily gritted her teeth and winced as the waited for the first blow across her already burning backside. Nothing could have prepared her for the pain of the impact. The heroines in her books didn’t do the pain a lick of justice. Carlton hadn’t remembered the second time to hold onto her and she jetted off his lap and onto the floor in a small heap.
Carlton looked down at her with an expression of concerned amusement. “I take it you’re not a fan of the brush?”
“No! Are you kidding me? That thing is evil!”
“Duly noted. Hopefully it will help you remember to tell the truth in the coming days. Now, get off the floor, and come on back over my lap. I’ll remember to hold onto you this time.”
“No.” She shook her head so emphatically it felt as if it might fly off. There was no way in hell she was going to subject herself to that pain nine more times. The heroines in her books were insane, and the women of Corbin’s Bend needed to be institutionalized—her own mother included.
Her husband was unmoved by her
refusal. “Cecily, you are not going to bat your eyelashes, or throw a tantrum, or use any other juvenile method of persuasion and get out of finishing your spanking. You will stand up, and you’ll place yourself back into position. We’re not leaving this room until you do. Now, I can wait all night, and that’s fine, but eventually your mother is going to come looking for us. When she does, if you’re still there on the floor, you have the choice only between telling her you are busy being punished or coming clean about the lies you told. Every single one.” He paused, and Cecily frowned. That wasn’t much of a choice at all. “Or, you can get your naughty little butt up here now, and we can have this over and done within a matter of minutes, way before your mom thinks to come looking for us. It’s your choice.”
It wasn’t much of a choice at all. All three options were scary as heck. She couldn’t imagine coming clean to her mother at this point, especially when she had already endured two thirds of the punishment he had promised. It didn’t even seem fair. The thought of having to tell her mother she couldn’t come to dinner because she was being punished was equally horrifying, even if it was Corbin’s Bend. She knew what she had to do, even as her bottom clenched at the thought of it.
Hands behind her, covering what she was sure had to be a very red bottom, she slowly stood. Carlton, ever the gentleman, leaned down to help her, and she was thankful when he put her back in position, and she didn’t have to be responsible for getting there herself.
Cecily shivered slightly as he took both of her arms and pinned them behind her, then crossed one of his legs over both of hers. Thankfully, she found that this made her calmer and more secure, ready to get this over with. She must have been crazy to agree to such a scheme.
Carlton was taking pity on her—she knew as soon as the brush made contact for the second time. It hurt like the blazes, but he was using less strength than he had when he had been using just his hand. She didn’t even have time to cry out or draw a breath before the second strike fell on the opposite cheek. Her bottom was going numb, and she was grateful. Carlton kept a steady pace and six more swats had fallen before she knew it. She was sobbing, blubbering into the bedspread, and crying out her apologies. The thing was, she actually meant it. Once she got past the shock of the pain, and the resentment of the situation, she was filled with a deep sense of peace, and she actually had a moment where she thought she might truly understand why people would choose to live this way.
The last swat fell, across the crack of her bottom, with twice as much force as the one before it—and all rational thought left her once more. “AGGGGHHH” She reared up, as much as she was able to while still being pinned into place. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the brush fall to the ground.
Cecily stayed still, wondering what would happen next. In her books, a good spanking usually turned to hot sex. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that in real life. Carlton let go of his grip on her arms, and then freed her legs and helped her to her feet. He pulled her panties up, and her skirt down, instead of having her do it herself.
The expression on his face was odd. He looked almost confused. She could certainly relate to that. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now. Carlton leaned forward, placing his hands on either shoulder, and kissed her forehead.
“I mean it, Cecily, no more lies.”
She nodded, still lost in a post-spanking daze. Her eyes didn’t leave his face. She wanted more. She needed him to say something, do something, she wasn’t sure what exactly.
He got up, brushed off his slacks, straightened his tie, and left the room.
Chapter 3
Stepping into the guest bath in the hall, Carlton shut the door behind him, and leaned up against it, burying his face in his hands. What in the hell had just happened? Had he really just spanked his wife for discipline…and liked it?
This couldn’t be right. He wasn’t some sort of power hungry sadist, who got off on causing other people pain. Yet the evidence was there. He was rock hard, his erection bulging against the front of his slacks until it was almost painful.
The bathrooms obviously weren’t as soundproof as the bedrooms were, because he could hear Venia making her way down the hall into the kitchen. He tried to listen for Cecily, but he couldn’t hear a peep. He supposed it was a good thing. It meant the bedrooms actually were fully soundproofed.
God, he had to get this under control. He didn’t want Cecily, or god forbid her mother, to know the effect this had on him. They would think him some sort of crazy monster for sure.
He willed himself to concentrate on getting his erection down. He started reciting statistics from the past five year’s financial reports. He said the alphabet backwards. He even tried remembering and reciting the Lord’s Prayer. None of it helped. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of Cecily’s milky white bottom turning red under his hand. For the slightest minute, he had thought that he had seen her also getting aroused, but he knew it had to have been only his imagination and wishful thinking.
It wasn’t working. If at all possible, he was getting harder. He couldn’t go out there like this. There was only one thing he could do. His hand found his zipper, and his cock immediately sprang free of its constraints. Wrapping his hand around himself, he stared at himself in the mirror. Was he really doing this? Here? Now? It felt like he was back in college.
But, oh it felt so good. He stroked himself slowly at first, building up speed—all he could think about was the sweet release. Images of Cecily’s red bottom danced at the forefront of his mind. It took him a minute to separate fantasy from reality when he opened his eyes and caught her gaze in the mirror behind him. Oh shit. When had she come in? He hadn’t heard, and he must have forgotten to lock the door.
He was horrified—and mortified—but when he turned to his wife, an explanation on the tip of his tongue, he saw only unbridled desire on her face, not the judgement and disgust he had been expecting.
Cecily stepped into his arms and wrapped her hand around his bulging cock, where his own had been only minutes before. “Let me,” she whispered.
He wasn’t about to question his luck. Watching in the mirror, he had a great view of her actions as she brought him to the brink, before dropping to her knees and taking him into her mouth, moments before he exploded. Oh. My. God.
In his post orgasmic state, he looked down at his wife, her lips still wrapped around him, licking and sucking off every last drop. The contrast of her pale skin against his always made him smile. She was as white as he was dark.
She released him and smiled up at him, her eyes hidden under long lashes. She reached for his hand, and he pulled her into a standing position, pulling up his boxers before pulling her close against him.
“That was…unexpected,” he murmured.
“I thought you were mad when you left.” She was quiet and looked unsure.
“Not mad, darling, incredibly turned on and ashamed. I was afraid that you would be mad at me for my reaction. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Carlton.” Her voice was husky as she took his hand in hers and guided it up underneath her skirt, where he realized she had rid herself of her panties. His large hand found her and was shocked to find that she was dripping wet. It hadn’t been his imagination after all.
His mouth closed over hers as he turned their bodies, pinning her up against the bathroom door. He strummed her expertly, caressing each nub and fold, and fucking her with his fingers until she arched her back and cried out as she climaxed. Short, sweet, and unbelievably hot. It was a first for them.
They collapsed as one against the door, a sticky, sweaty, breathless mess. When the fog cleared from their brains, they stared at each other in amazed confusion.
“Is this normal?”
“I have no idea,” Cecily admitted.
“Huh. Maybe there is more to this discipline stuff than meets the eye,” Carlton mused. “These Corbin’s Bend folks might be onto something. I think I’m going
to enjoy looking into this further.” He had what he knew was an evil glint in his eye, and a sarcastic smile forming.
“It’s only five days,” Cecily reminded him in a huff, before quickly righting her skirt and exiting the bathroom.
She had a point, but he had been known to accomplish quite a lot in a short amount of time, and he was up for the challenge.
Venia and Jeff were gathered around the kitchen table pulling take-out containers from paper bags when Cecily entered.
“Oh, there you are, darling. Where’s Carlton?”
“Oh, um, he’s still unpacking. I’ll um, go get him. We didn’t realize it was time to eat already. Guess those rooms really are soundproof,” Cecily quipped before she could stop herself.
Venia’s head shot up, and she cast a knowing smile at her. Shit. Cecily ignored it, fleeing the room as quickly as possible.
All but pulling Carlton out of the bathroom, she hissed under her breath as she hurried him along. There was no way she was going back out there alone. Suddenly five days seemed like an eternity.
Honestly, Cecily would have stalled forever, or begged off dinner in favor of a nap if Carlton would have let her, and if she hadn’t been starving. Her stomach growled loudly, and she frowned. They had had a late lunch before heading out, and it was only an hour’s drive. She wasn’t generally a big eater. Why on earth was she so hungry?
They both tried their hardest to act normal when they rejoined in the dining room, a feat that was much harder than she anticipated, for the simple reason that when she went to sit, the impact of her bottom hitting the chair—with only her thin linen skirt between them—was unexpectedly painful, even with the pads that covered each of the four dining chairs. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to jump up and grab her offended backside in shock. Carlton must have anticipated her reaction, even if she hadn’t because he was right there behind her, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders.
Corbin's Bend Homecoming Page 37
