At Home In Corbin's Bend

by Maggie Ryan

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  The trademark Blushing Books®

  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Grant, Livia

  Psychology of Submission

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-892-6

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter 1

  Oh my fucking God! This cheesecake is to die for!"

  The words were still hanging in the air when the crack of a large hand connecting with a bikini-clad bottom could be heard from across the pool. Hallie's surprised squeal was drowned out by the fits of laughter from the dozen or so other couples already gathered for the Corbin's Bend annual Summer's Here picnic.

  "Troy! I can't believe you just did that!"

  "Hallie, I can't believe you continue to talk like a truck driver."

  Traci's heart physically contracted with love as she watched her brother and new sister-in-law bantering playfully. Seeing Troy happily married was bittersweet for her. She honestly couldn't be happier for Troy and Hallie. Still, it was ironic that the siblings had gone years living far apart while Troy had been deployed across the globe, yet now that they lived a few blocks from each other, Traci had never felt more alone. The time since her brother's wedding had brought her a much-loved sister-in-law. In fact, Hallie was more than her new sister; she was her close friend. But in watching the couple embrace across the pool, Traci was keenly reminded that she was no longer the most important person in her brother's life.

  Correction. I am no longer the most important person in anyone's life.

  Traci tried to shake herself out of her funk. She despised feeling sorry for herself, and refused to allow feelings of jealously to come between her and the two people she loved most in the world. Yet, the couple wasn't helping.

  The newlyweds had just returned from their honeymoon two weeks earlier and were still in that sickly-sweet romantic mode where they were rarely more than a few feet from each other. They'd come to dinner at Traci's the night before and had even had to excuse themselves to go to the guest bedroom. Troy had made it sound like it was to punish Hallie for her continued potty-mouth, but Traci was no fool. The walls in her Corbin's Bend home were not thick enough to camouflage the sounds of sex. Passionate... hot... naughty... sex.

  At least they'd had the decency to blush when they'd returned to the kitchen twenty minutes later with Hallie's hair sex-mussed and Troy's shirt untucked. Just because Traci's love life was non-existent didn't mean the people around her needed to suffer the same affliction.

  Troy and Hallie returned to the long picnic table where Traci had been sitting, observing. They plopped down next to their sister. Zach and Erin Cunningham tagged along to sit across the table. Traci had gotten to know the married couple pretty well since they served as Troy and Hallie's mentors. She'd begun to count them among her close friends these days.

  "I don't know what I'm gonna to do with you, Hallie. I think your cursing is getting worse, not better."

  Zachary cut in before Hallie could reply. "What punishments have you established to help her stop?"

  Traci hid her smile as she listened to a conversation that outside of Corbin's Bend would seem barbaric. Here, it's just another Saturday afternoon.

  "I always give her a crack to the bottom right away to let her know I noticed and didn’t let it pass, but I don't think it's enough."

  "It's not, if you're trying to get her to stop. One swat isn't enough of a deterrent, is it, Erin?"

  Erin's blush told Traci she wasn't comfortable with the topic. "No, sir, and I'd like to thank you for pointing that out in front of our friends."

  Zach reached to hold his wife's hand while sharing their experience. "Erin's language has never been too bad, but she would let a 4-letter bomb slip at times. I didn't really care until Avery was a toddler and started repeating the words she learned from her mommy. I'll never forget how embarrassed I was when Avery called my mother a 'damn busy-body.' That was the night Erin got her first real punishment for her language choices. It only took a few intense sessions and the problem was solved, wasn't it, baby?"

  "It felt like more than a few to me, thank-you-very-much."

  "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

  "Unfortunately."

  Hallie had been listening silently, her eyes growing larger by the minute. She glanced sideways at Traci as if to look for moral support. Traci had to chuckle. "Don't look at me. I still can't believe Adam didn't set you straight when you lived with them."

  "Some sister you are. I thought you'd back me up that there are way worse things than having a colorful vocabulary."

  They were joined by several new couples at the table next to them. Dr. Marcus Devon must have been close enough to catch their earlier conversation when he weighed in. "Troy, I'd suggest using those bars of soap I gave you as part of your wedding present. Those work wonders for naughty language slips."

  Before Troy could respond, the next alpha male to join the group, Vance Foster, shared his own opinion on how Troy should handle this particular problem. "A paddle. That's all you need. One nice, hard, wooden paddle. I guarantee it does wonders for helping make behavior changes, wouldn't you say, Ettie?"

  The pretty young woman with the studious glasses waited until she'd gingerly lowered herself to the hard wooden bench, shifting to try to find a comfortable position, before answering. "You seem to think the wooden paddle is the answer for everything."

  Vance grinned at her. "It helped us arrive here on time today, didn't it?"

  "Yes, sir, although now the paper will be released late since you didn't let me finish the story I was working on."

  "Somehow, I think your subscribers will understand. They'd rather have the pleasure of your company here at the picnic. Not to mention, you wouldn't want to release the next edition without a report of how today's festivities went."

  "Of course not. Honestly, I'm an article or two short this week. I hope something really juicy happens today so I have a good story to add this week."

  Traci smiled across at Ettie. Traci read Ettie's paper faithfully, in part to enjoy the author's creative exaggerations of the demise of several of the prominent town figures. More importantly, Traci loved to read the erotic serial stories she printed at the end of each edition. The current tale about a Dom cowboy who spanked his naughty horse trainer was one of Ettie's hottest stories to date.

  Traci must have zoned out thinking of hot cowboys because she was suddenly aware that all eyes had turned to her, waiting expectantly. She blushed under everyone's scrutiny. "I'm sorry. I think I missed something."

  Ettie responded, her voice high pitched with excitement. "Would you really give me an interview? That would be so awesome."

  Traci had a bad feeling. "Why would you want to interview me?"

  Ettie sighed, exasperated. "Chicago. The conference. Weren't you listening just now when Troy told us about your big conference coming up this week? How impressive that you're going to deliver one of the keynote speeches! What's your topic?"

  A wave of dread washed over Traci. She'd been doing her best to push down her rising panic over the last few weeks, but the mere mention of the conference she dreaded had her stomach churning. She stumbled through her answer.

  "Well... honestly, I'm not sure... I've been reconsidering and..." She hated the quaver in her voice. Her eyes connected with Troy's and she saw concern etched on his face. Traci took a cleansing breath before answering more calmly. "There really isn't a story here, Ettie. I've decided I'm not going to go this year."

  Troy's brown eyes sparked with anger. The siblings were ca
ught in a stare-down before Troy abruptly stood. "Trace, I'd like to speak with you privately, please." He was already stepping away from the picnic table, his hand reaching for her own.

  "I don't think so. We just got our food."

  "Traci. Now, please." It was his HoH voice.

  Hallie sent her sister-in-law a supportive smile, although Traci suspected the new bride was relieved to have the conversation swing away from her own potty mouth. Recognizing the firm set of Troy's jaw, Traci knew it was futile to argue.

  Troy led her by the hand outside the pool and picnic area, down a stone walkway and onto the expansive green lawn peppered with aromatic flowerbeds. He stopped at a bench tucked under a mammoth oak tree. She was relieved he'd led her far enough away to avoid being overheard.

  The siblings sat quietly until the silence turned awkward. Traci had become a pro over the last year at hiding her insecurities from those around her. She used the time to fortify her defensive wall.

  "I want to start by apologizing to you, Traci." She heard regret in her brother's voice.

  The sadness in his eyes pierced a chink in her defenses. She had expected him to yell at her for trying to ditch out on the conference.

  "Why in the world would you need to apologize to me, Troy?"

  "Because I haven't been there for you this last year. Not really. Not the way you've clearly needed me to be."

  "Troy, you quit your job and moved half way across the country to live in the same town as me. I think that sort of proves you've been here for me."

  "That's just geography. Sure, we see each other more, which is great, but I've known since your birthday that something was wrong. I let myself get distracted with Hallie and getting married, but I should have been getting to the bottom of what's bothering you much sooner."

  "What makes you think anything is wrong, Troy? I'm fine–really."

  "Then tell me why you decided not to go to the conference. You've been working so hard on your research. You just got another article published in Psychology Today. I'm so proud of you, Trace. Why wouldn't you want to go and enjoy talking about your research with other psychologists?"

  "Conferences are boring. It's no big deal."

  Troy turned his body to face his sister, pulling her hands until she had to shift to face him. Traci was careful not to look him in the eye. She was unprepared when he lifted her chin with his finger. The love and concern she saw warmed her.

  "You've been hiding things from me and now you're lying to me, Trace. I've been reluctant to push you before now, but that was a mistake. You've worked too hard on your research to just walk away from it now. That tells me something big is going on in that beautiful head of yours and I want you to share it with me."

  "Really, Troy. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. It's nothing. Let it go."

  His hands moved to her upper arms, gripping her tightly. "I asked you to stop lying to me. If you recall, there are consequences for lying in our relationship."

  Traci's heart rate jumped as she remembered clearly what those consequences were. "Oh, for crying out loud. You wouldn't dare spank me again."

  "I never dreamed I'd need to, but I will if I think it will help. Please, Trace. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong. I love you. Let me in."

  Traci looked away, calming herself by watching children playing on the enormous jungle gym several hundred feet away. Sounds of joyful play filled the air.

  She felt the familiar tug of submission, reminding her of her natural desire to submit to a stronger man. She'd spent thousands of hours studying the psychology behind dominance and submission. It was her specialty. Still, resentment flared within that she couldn't stop it from happening within her own mind. She was an intelligent, strong woman. Understanding the reasons why she still yearned to submit to the will of a man didn't make her any less pissed when she couldn't stop it from happening.

  All of the damn research, and I'm still no closer to being able to stop my own mind from betraying me. Life would be so much easier if I could just settle for a vanilla relationship.

  Her inner anger flared, making it harder to hold up her protective shield. Her brother waited her out, seeming to understand she was waging an internal emotional struggle.

  "Fine. I don't want to go because my area of specialization isn't well received in the psychological community. It's easier to just stay home than to go and feel like everyone around me is ridiculing me."

  She detected disbelief as her brother answered. "I bet you're just being paranoid, Trace. You're a published professional. Why wouldn't they want to hear what you have to say? Are you sure this isn't more about fear of public speaking?"

  "I'm sure. Public speaking makes me a little nervous on its own, but it's the fear of getting rotten tomatoes thrown at me that has me dreading it."

  He laughed at her. Too bad she hadn't been exaggerating. "Now you're being ridiculous, but I'll play along. What about your study of relationship dynamics do you think they don't respect?"

  They were at the heart of her lie. The reason she'd avoided this discussion for months. If she couldn't even talk about this with her brother, the man who loved her most in the world and who lived in Corbin's Bend as the head of household in his domestic discipline marriage, how in the world could she get up in front of a bunch of professionals and talk about it?

  Again, he waited patiently. The silence between them finally forced the words from her. "I just don't think they want to hear about the kind of relationships I've studied."

  "Marriages?"

  "A bit more specific."

  "Sexual relationships?"

  "A bit more specific."

  "Rather than playing this guessing game, why not tell me the title of your work?"

  Traci took a deep breath before continuing. "The Intimacy of Dominance and Submission. I study the psychology behind what makes Doms and HoH's need to dominate and protect. I also study the psychology of why some people long to be submissive, both sexually and domestically."

  Troy whistled softly. "Well, you certainly have a hot-bed of test subjects here in Corbin's Bend. At least that explains in part what made you want to move here, to live your research."

  Traci snorted an unladylike sound. "Researching others, yes. I wouldn't say I'm living my research." Traci had to push down the now familiar self-pity she'd been fighting since last year's conference.

  Troy didn't seem to notice and pressed on. "But, I don't understand. This seems like a very legitimate topic to present on."

  "If I stopped with the psychology of D/s, it might be. I dig a bit deeper."

  "And?"

  "And, the heart of my research revolves around corporal punishment and the need for delivering and receiving discipline."

  "You mean spanking."

  "Among other things. I delve into everything from the psychology behind DD relationships to hard-core BDSM master/slave relationships and everything in between. I've focused a lot on defining the difference between abuse and discipline. How humiliation and pain factor into the dynamics of D/s. It's actually very interesting stuff. I've developed several screenings to help couples understand their deepest drivers to better predict long term compatibility in relationships."

  Troy took time to internalize her words before he continued. "Honestly, learning this only makes me admire you all the more, Trace. More than ever, I don't understand why you don't want to go and represent your hard work?"

  "Let's just say many people choose to live here in Corbin's Bend to escape the judgmental crap from people outside our community who don't want to understand. The topic makes them uncomfortable and instead of studying it to learn more, they decide to act like immature jerks, ridiculing me and my research."

  "I bet you're just being paranoid."

  Traci's anger flared. "My nickname at the last conference was the 'Spanko Shrink'. Some of the worst offenders were kind enough to have an official name-tag created for me and had it in large letters on the name plate that sat i
n front of me as I sat at the head table last year. I couldn't figure out why people seemed to be pointing and snickering. Thankfully, an acquaintance of mine was kind enough to walk up and take it down."

  "Oh for Christ's sake. I've never heard of such immature behavior. These were actual psychologists?"

  "Yes, Troy. That's what I'm trying to say. These are the same peers who will be sitting in the ballroom to listen to my keynote speech this year. Waiting to laugh and ridicule. Waiting to do who knows what to humiliate me. In my personal relationships, I may admit to living closer to the submissive end of the continuum, but I'd prefer not to be humiliated in public in front of professional peers."

  Troy pondered her words before speaking again. "Traci, do you use your research to help the residents you see here in Corbin's Bend?"

  "Of course. Every day."

  "So then I guess the question is, is that enough for you? Are you willing to turn your back on the millions of people living outside of Corbin's Bend who might benefit from the knowledge you can pass along? Because that's what you'd be doing. Your peers at the conference can learn from you. They can go back and help their own patients. Your research can influence them. You have the opportunity to impact many outside of this small town. The question is, are you willing to risk personal ridicule to help them? You have something important to share. You've worked hard at it and deserve your time at the podium. If you stay home, those small-minded bigots have won and you'll be making the most submissive decision of your life. The decision to submit to their immature scare tactics."

  Traci's heart raced. Her brother had a way of cutting through all the crap in just a few minutes on topics she'd wasted endless hours worrying about over the last twelve months. Could she face her fears and go to the conference?

  "I'd like to make a date with you, Trace, for one week from today. I'll meet you here on this very bench and we'll talk about how your week went. I'll want to hear every detail from you. Now here's the million-dollar question. What will make you feel better one week from now? Having stayed home to safely go about your daily life without fear of ridicule? Or, will you feel better sitting here telling me about your week in Chicago? Even if some people act like idiots, I suspect you'll feel better by proving you can hold your head up high, by not letting them stop you from doing what you've earned the right to do: present as an expert in your field."