The Last Match

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “Just one of the perks of being slightly famous and very rich,” he said with a smile as he tossed her on their bed. “Things have a way of magically appearing, like special licenses and judges. Get your clothes off, Red.”

  “I need a shower,” she said, as she watched him kick off his shoes and pull his shirt over his head.

  “Later.”

  “But I’m hungry,” she pouted.

  “I’m starving,” he growled, pulling the belt from his pants and watching her face pale. Laughing, he tossed the belt aside and undid his pants. “Ha, you should be frightened, you little witch. Taking a belt to your ass would be immensely satisfying, but I prefer a more intimate punishment. Strip wife, I want you naked and over my lap, now!”

  “Boy, marriage certainly hasn’t improved your temper,” she snapped, kicking off her sneakers and crawling from the bed. “Did I really promise to obey you?” she asked, her voice muffled by the hoodie stuck on her head.

  “You most certainly did,” Marcus replied, smiling as he helped untangle her.

  “Well, I must have been weak from hunger,” she sighed, shaking her head and pushing her hair out of her eyes when she was free. “I feel a pulse, right here in my neck,” she began, putting her finger under her ear and looking up at him. “I may faint,” she said, her voice fading away as her eyes traveled from his bare feet upward. His faded jeans were partially unzipped, riding low on his hips. The muscles in his upper body were taunt, his arms crossed over his chest. Damn, she thought, I really may faint. There was a light in his eyes that both drew her in and scared the crap out of her. It was determination and pain and love, and she dropped her hand from her neck and unsnapped her bra.

  Marcus was quiet, watchful, waiting as she removed the rest of her clothes, never moving until she was naked before him, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Sitting on the side of the bed, he held out his hand, not once taking his eyes from hers.

  Sighing, Susan placed her hand in his and let him pull her over his knees. She could see no point in trying to get out of it; he obviously wasn’t going to let it go. Propping her chin on her hands, she let him arrange her comfortably, supporting her torso on the firm mattress and positioning her bottom to his satisfaction.

  “Now, my darling wife,” he said, resting his hand on her bottom. “Why are you getting punished?”

  “Because I married a mean man who can’t forget one little mistake,” she sniffed indignantly.

  “A little mistake?” he asked incredulously. “My dear, a little mistake is burning dinner or my favorite shirt, which by the way, I found at the bottom of the laundry bin. A little mistake is getting caught eating loaded cheese fries at the diner. This was not a little mistake, but an error in judgment of epic and life-altering proportions.”

  “Okay it was an error of epic proportions! Are you seriously going to lecture me as well as roast my ass on our wedding night?” she demanded, cranking her neck around and staring at him over her shoulder.

  Surprisingly, Marcus threw back his head and laughed. “Yes, I believe I am,” he smiled. “What could you have done differently?” he asked. “Is there anything you could have done that would have changed what is about to happen now?”

  “Well,” Susan sassed sweetly, taking a tone suitable for dealing with a slightly dim-witted man. “I could have slapped the snot out of that pasty-faced bitch and poisoned your papaya juice or whatever the hell it is you drink. Hmm, now that I think about it, there are several things I could have done differently, but you see, I was mad.”

  “Ah yes, that fearful Irish temper of yours,” Marcus sighed, patting her ass. “Let’s hope with time and attention, you’ll learn to control it. Tell me, did it never occur to you to simply call me and ask me about Bianca? Did you even think that maybe I was the injured party in all of this?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “No, or course you didn’t. You simply threw your dancing shoes into the car and drove away, leaving me to wonder if you were dead or alive. Ripping my heart out of my chest and leaving me to wander the earth for the rest of my days, my soul searching for my one true love.”

  “Is this out of one of your books?” she demanded.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “Shut up.”

  “Why don’t you just take the belt to me; it would be quicker and probably less painful than listening to this,” she suggested.

  “I don’t want quick,” he replied darkly, his mood changing in an instant. “I want to feel each and every spank heating my hand as it burns your bottom. I want to watch your creamy, perfect ass change color with every slap until it is crimson and sizzling. I want to feel your pussy grinding against my cock as you struggle to get away, see your tears soaking the bed even as your juices soak my jeans, knowing you deserve every bit of what you’re getting and more. After, I want to lay here and admire my handiwork as my wife stands in the corner and thinks about how one foolish decision almost ruined us.”

  “Aw hell, baby,” she sniffed, laying her head on the bed in defeat. “You know me better than I know myself. Have at it.”

  And so he did, spanking her with a purpose he’d never felt before. It was gratifying, arousing and heartbreaking as his hand fell over and over, leaving her so red there were no individual hand prints, just a solid mass of fire from the top of her cheeks to the back of her thighs. He spanked her through tears, moans, sobs and screams. Spanked her long after his arm tired, and his tears were falling faster than hers. This one had to be memorable. This one had a purpose. This one wasn’t because he enjoyed it and it turned her on. It was because he loved her and had almost lost her due to her foolish pride and stubborn temperament. It couldn’t happen again.

  Much later, Susan stood in the kitchen looking at the lights across the lake. After her corner time, Marcus had rubbed lotion into her blazing ass and made slow passionate love to her, making her promise to always give him the courtesy of coming to him with her concerns.

  His strong arms had held her against the shower wall, her legs draped over them as he claimed her deeply and permanently. Her screams of release forever burned into her memory of the first time he’d taken her as his wife. Afterward, he washed her as gently as a baby, wrapped her in a matching white robe and carried her downstairs.

  “We have to call Ty and Kelsey,” she said, sipping a mimosa and watching his reflection in the glass as he made veggie omelets.

  “I called Ty while you were in the restroom at the airport. They’re coming over in the morning. You look a little shell-shocked. Do you want to have a real wedding, Red?” he asked, meeting her eyes in the glass. “I don’t mind all the hoopla if it will make you happy. Would a wedding help you feel more married?”

  Susan smiled. “I don’t think anything could make me feel more married than what we just did upstairs,” she said as she walked to him and leaned against his back. “I hope you never spank me that hard again.”

  “I hope so too, baby,” he replied, sliding the pan to a cool burner and taking her in his arms. “Do you feel alright? I can get more lotion if you’d like.”

  “No, I’m okay, I just feel different,” she said with a shrug.

  “How so?” he asked, tipping her chin up and looking into her eyes.

  “It’s hard to explain, just different, kind of shiny and new, like a bright copper penny. Silly, huh?”

  “I feel differently, too,” Marcus replied, picking her up and kissing her, deeply. His hand stroked her long red hair, and he held her with one arm around her waist. “Everything before you was colorless, and bland, a never ending chore. It was my writing that kept me sane and focused. Now I know I was hiding in imaginary characters, imaginary worlds to keep me from facing the loneliness in my own world. The best thing that ever happened to me was you falling through that bookstore door in those ridiculous shoes,” he said with a grin.

  “Marcus, about those shoes,” Susan said as she fingered the collar of his robe, her eyes downcast. “I was wondering…?
”

  “No,” he replied firmly, setting her down and turning back to the stove.

  “You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she huffed, stomping her bare foot.

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea, and the answer is no,” he repeated, sliding the omelet onto a plate and cutting it in half.

  “Why not?” she demanded as he moved to the table and motioned for her to join him.

  “We don’t have a contract anymore,” she said, walking to the table and dropping onto his lap. Immediately she jumped up, cupping her bottom and hissing. “I don’t see why a married woman can’t decide what she will and will not wear.”

  “Easy,” Marcus replied, gently settling her back on his lap slowly. “We do have a contract; it’s called a marriage certificate, and it’s much more binding than anything we signed at Sugar Babies. I promised to love, honor and cherish you, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. Now eat your veggies like a good little wife,” he teased, cutting a piece of the omelet and holding it to her mouth.

  Susan kept her lips tightly closed until Marcus softly patted her bottom. Opening her mouth, she took his offering and chewed with a grimace on her face.

  “It’s only fair to tell you that the next time I go into town I’m having a greasy bacon cheeseburger, loaded fries and a big fat chocolate shake,” she said with a smirk.

  “And it’s only fair to tell you that if I find out, you’ll be sitting on a pillow.”

  “My life is over,” she sighed dramatically, collapsing on his chest.

  “It’s just beginning,” he promised, kissing her hair.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erica woke up refreshed and headache-free. After using the bathroom, she dressed in jeans with pink butterflies on the pockets, a pink tee shirt and pink flip-flops. She brushed her hair, pulling it back in a ponytail before making her bed. John found her curled up on the window seat reading Anne of Green Gables an hour later.

  “You’re up,” he observed, sitting beside her. “I was just coming to check on you. How’s the headache?”

  “It’s much better, thank you,” she answered, closing her book. Looking out the window, she sighed, thinking if nothing else, she’d miss this view. Her little vacation was going to be much shorter than she planned.

  “Are you hungry, thirsty?” he asked, taking her hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb.

  “You know what I want, JB,” she replied.

  For a few moments, he considered her words. It was obvious that things weren’t going to work out as he planned. Even he couldn’t conceive of treating her like a child, given how he felt about her. She was sexy as hell, and by the time he walked away from her earlier, he had a headache as well as pain in another part of his body.

  “Come on, little brat,” he sighed, pulling her from the cushions. Leading her downstairs, he helped her onto a stool and made coffee.

  “We need to talk,” she said, wrapping her hands around her cup and sighing as she took a sip.

  “I know,” he replied taking the stool next to her. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “You’re sorry?” she said, shocked. “Why would you be sorry? I love what you’ve tried to do here,” she said, placing her hand over his and smiling into his eyes. “My room is beautiful, exactly what I would have loved as a child. The clothes, the books, everything is perfect. Even your house is appealing with its homey atmosphere. County French, with the blues and yellows and creams, has always been my favorite style. I could never do it with my own place because, well, that’s just not who I am. My life is cold and pristine,” she admitted, looking away.

  John snorted. “I don’t know how you can consider yourself cold, honey. Last night you were on fire in my arms and this afternoon…let’s just say I still haven’t recovered from that.”

  Erica blushed. “That was a little surprising to me, too. I always thought I’d absolutely hate anything like that.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “Hell, no,” she admitted, grinning. “It was impossibly embarrassing and hot as hell. And believe it or not, those things work, fast. Do I shock you?”

  “You delight me. I don’t want you to go,” he said firmly.

  Sitting quietly, they drank their coffee, and John helped her down from her seat. After putting their cups in the dishwasher, he wrapped his arm around her and walked out onto the deck. Sitting down, he pulled Erica onto his lap and set the swing in motion. The sun was low in the sky, sending waves of red and gold to the shore as she relaxed in his arms, the gentle sound of the water a soothing background.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking, feeling” he urged her, softly. “I need to know.”

  “I like it here,” she sighed, snuggling closer. “I like being on your lap, the way you hold me. I feel safe and cared for. It’s very nice.”

  “But?”

  “But I can’t go back, John. There’s a part of me that’s lost forever. I’ll never get it back, never be able to pull all the pieces back together. You have no idea what all the sweet things you’ve given me, done for me, have meant. No one has ever looked close enough to see that I’m broken, until you, and I love that you’re willing to at least try to fix me. I just don’t think it’s possible. Even all the kings’ horses couldn’t do it,” she said laying her hand on his cheek and forcing him to look at her.

  “I can’t regress, John; it’s too painful. I love what you’ve given me, but don’t you see, it’s because it’s all new to me. There are no happy memories to recreate, nothing to recapture. With me you get the puzzle, but never a complete picture. Do you understand, darling?

  “I can do age-play, as long as that’s what it is, play. I like the fantasy of it, at least I think I will, but it could never be a lifestyle. I’m much too independent for that. As far as discipline, it’s pretty sexy when you get all he-man on me. As long as it’s a legitimate issue and you’re in the right, I can even accept that, but don’t think it’s going to be easy. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he said with an ironic smile.

  “So what do you need, John? To be happy, I mean?” she asked sincerely.

  “I need you in my life, honey,” he replied, resting his cheek on her hair.

  “That’s it?” she giggled. “I can do anything I want, and it’s okay with you?”

  “Absolutely not,” he replied firmly. “My job is taking care of you, and I won’t have you trying to bypass my authority, is that clear?”

  “Umm, yes?” she replied, grinning.

  “Try to sound a little more sincere,” he advised. “It might save you a few trips over my lap.”

  “Maybe I want to be over your lap,” she teased.

  “Maybe you’ll change your tune the first time I have to punish you for something serious. Believe me, little one, I know plenty of embarrassing ways to make a naughty girl regret her actions,” he assured her.

  “Oh, do tell,” she sighed, mimicking his Southern drawl and laying the back of her hand against her forehead. “You are making me want to be bad, just to find out what they are.”

  The rumble of his laughter started deep in his chest. “Erica, you give new meaning to the word ‘incorrigible.’ So how do you want to work this? Will you stay for the entire month and let me run the show?”

  “Maybe,” she said, sitting up. “But there are a few rules for you, too,” she informed him, ticking them off on her fingers. “I want coffee for breakfast and lunch. I want to pick out my own outfits. I want to keep my room, and you have to knock if you want to come in. I want you to bathe me every night in that beautiful big bathtub, and I may need a little trim, if you know what I mean,” she grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

  John instantly grew hard beneath her and groaned. “Anything else, princess?” he asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

  “Oh, princess, I like that. You may call me that if you wish,” she replied with a hoot. “I want you to hold me, a
nd maybe rock me sometimes, and I want you to watch every horror movie I’ve ever wanted to see but was too afraid to watch alone with me.”

  “Horror movies?” he gasped, totally shocked.

  “Yup, every one,” she insisted, nodding her head up and down.

  “What if they give you nightmares?” he questioned worriedly.

  “I’ll be sleeping in your bed,” she replied, very matter of fact. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be alright.”

  “Oh you will, will you?”

  “Yes, definitely, oh, and one more thing,” she said with a blush. “I may be getting a few headaches so be prepared.”

  John stood with her in his arms, tossed her into the air and caught her as she screamed.

  “Little girl, you better hang on,” he warned, striding toward the door. “You’re in for the ride of your life.”

  Erica laughed and tightened her grip. This was going to be one fantastic vacation.

  It was, it really was, Erica thought as she slowly packed her things. They went out for dinner and dancing. They had picnics in the park, and John took her to the fall festival, where he plied her with cotton candy and caramel apples until she almost threw up. She repaid him by making him watch some of the vilest horror movies ever, and she still laughed whenever she thought about him running from the room with his hand over his mouth.

  Each night he bathed her in the big tub, washing her with great care and making sure he didn’t miss even one little nook or cranny, frequently bringing her to screaming orgasms that he refused to be rushed with. He kept her pussy shaved and insisted on inspecting it daily, much to Erica’s delight. When she complained of a headache three days in a row, he spanked her soundly for lying and introduced her to the butt plug, which he said would satisfy her need for anal penetration, without unnecessary medication. They had a standing joke in which Erica would say she had a headache and John would ask, really? When she smiled and replied, no, he would take her hand and pull her to their bedroom.