Michael exhaled and held out his glass for more of the whiskey when Kyan offered the bottle.
“Were you still angry when you punished her?” Kyan asked, not quite looking at him.
“No. I wasn’t angry, I just knew what I needed to do.”
“Good. Don’t ever do this angry.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“One area where you may need help, or that will take time to develop on your own if you don’t want help, is how and when to use what implements and with what force. You’re stronger than your wife and you’re bigger than she is. You wouldn’t strike her with, say, the same force you used to strike me.” Kyan smiled and touched the fading bruise on his jaw.
“I’m sorry for that,” Michael began, but Kyan held up his hand.
“Why don’t you and Sophie come to the club sometime soon? We can have a real session here, in the main room.”
“I don’t know if we’re ready for that.”
“I don’t know you’re ever ready for your first time. I think it would help, Michael.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll give you a call.”
“Sounds good. Anytime is fine, Michael.”
“Thanks, Kyan.”
Chapter Twelve
By the time Sophie opened her eyes the next morning, she was very aware of the tight soreness of her ass. She blinked several times, reaching to touch a spot as she turned to Michael’s side of the bed, only to find it empty.
She sat up, flinching, to find him sitting in the chair across the room, watching her.
“What are you doing?” she asked. She checked the clock; it was just a little after eight in the morning.
“I called into the office, told them I wasn’t coming in today,” he said.
“We get to spend the day together?” she asked, her face brightening.
But he looked worried, and entirely too serious.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Oh.”
“I went to the club. I wanted to talk to Kyan,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“You’re bruised, Sophie. I know you feel it.”
“I think I’d have to have buns of steel not to be, Michael. Anyway, it kind of goes with the territory, I think,” she said, raising her eyebrows and trying to smile. Was he having second thoughts after last night? Was it too much for him?
“Did I go too far last night? Did you understand what was going to happen, Soph?” he asked, his brow furrowed, worry and guilt in his eyes. “There’s a pretty thin line between what I did to you and abuse.”
“Abuse? Michael,” she leaned forward. “I asked for this. I want this. This is in no way abuse, at least not in my mind. Is that what Kyan said?” She couldn’t believe that.
“No. He agrees with you that there was consent.”
“I guess I don’t understand then, Michael.” Was it the beginnings of anger that she felt? Disappointment? Which would be worse?
“When I said we were going to do things differently last night, I meant I was going to discipline you, use spanking to discipline you when need be.”
“Go on.” Now she was confused. She hadn’t yet processed their conversation from last night, but he had said he was going to change things or something to that extent.
“Last night when we were fighting, I had this idea—more of a feeling, really—that this was what you needed or wanted. Maybe you couldn’t express it. You needed me to be strong enough to do what I did. Was I wrong?”
“No. I don’t know. I feel good right now,” she said, looking away to think for a minute. “It’s over, you know. Our fight, I mean. It’s really resolved. Our roles as they are, you being the dominant partner, it’s natural you spanked and I got spanked. It hurt, but if you’d stopped, I think… no, I know, I would have been disappointed, frustrated. Angry with you. Does that make sense?”
“This is complicated,” he said.
“Doesn’t have to be.”
“No, you’re right. It doesn’t. We’ve got this D/s dynamic and part of the draw for me is disciplining for sure. But I also felt like I was giving you what you needed. Both times I’ve spanked you like this, I’ve also felt like I needed to do it for myself. But it’s also very erotic for me. The sex we’ve been having lately is phenomenal.”
“Okay, so we’re on the same page. Exactly. Same everything. We’re not going to figure this out overnight. I think it would be silly to think we would. I like what we’re doing and I understand that we’re going to learn as we go.” She reached her hand toward him. “Together.”
He smiled, his whole body relaxing a little. “We might make mistakes or decide something doesn’t work for one or both of us.”
“And I’ve got my safeword if I ever need it,” she added.
“Hopefully I know before it gets that far,” he said.
She smiled gently.
“I promise never to spank you for not ironing my shirts. Well, let me revise that. I might spank you if you do.”
“Are you making fun of my ability to iron, Michael?” she teased.
Michael climbed onto the bed. “I might be, Sophie.” He kissed her, pushing her with his body to lie on her back. “You do know I re-iron each one of them when you’re not looking, don’t you?”
His mouth covered hers, but she pushed him back.
“You do not!” she said, feigning anger.
“I do. You’re awful at it.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, one thing off my list, then. How about vacuuming? Want to take that over as well? Do I suck at vacuuming too?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck while he moved his weight on top of her. “Or cooking? Should I stop cooking?”
“Be careful, Sophie. I will take you over my knee if you stop cooking.”
“Really?” she asked, her tone flirtatious.
Michael growled in her ear, pushed her arms out to the sides and held her, looking down at her.
“I love you, baby.”
“Shut up and make love to me, Michael. Slow.”
Chapter Fourteen
Michael’s travel schedule didn’t slow down. In fact, over the next four weeks, he was gone from Monday through Friday and Sophie’s patience had worn out. That had been the day Michael had come home and surprised her with a trip to Nice.
Sophie set the clothes she wanted to bring on the bed as Michael packed their suitcase.
“You really think you’re going to need four sweaters for a three-day trip to the south of France where it will be warm?” he asked, holding them up, one eyebrow lifted.
“You’re right,” she said. She took one of the sweaters from his hand. “Three should do it.”
Michael rolled his eyes and shook his head, but carried on with the packing.
“I don’t have any summer dresses to take with me,” she complained.
“We’ll buy you some when we’re there. I’m running out of space here, Soph. Not sure six pair of shoes are coming with us.”
“Oh,” she said, putting the pair she was about to add to the six back in the closet. “Maybe you can take some of your things out,” she suggested politely.
He gave her a look, but she just shrugged her shoulders and went into the bathroom to retrieve her toiletries.
Michael had always been an indulgent husband, but after their conversation a few weeks ago, he was more so. He’d sent flowers twice a week every week and now he was taking her on a getaway weekend to a place she’d wanted to visit for as long as she could remember.
For her part, Sophie had made that appointment with the doctor and gone in for some tests. The news she’d had back was both comforting and frustrating. She was a normal, healthy young woman. No reason she shouldn’t conceive again or carry a baby full term.
After hearing that, Michael had had some tests done as well and the results were the same. There was nothing wrong there either.
They’d stopped ta
lking about it after a few days and had agreed to just move forward and see what happened. It was the only thing they could do. Sophie wasn’t ready to adopt just yet and at twenty-four, she had some years ahead of her to try.
“We’d better get to bed,” Michael said, checking his watch after setting the heavy suitcase on the floor. “It’s past midnight and our flight’s at eight in the morning.”
“I’m too excited to sleep,” Sophie said. “You sure you packed everything I gave you?” she asked, eyeing the closed suitcase.
“Yes, and you’re not unpacking to double check,” he said, coming up behind her to hug her to him. “Now let’s get to bed. I don’t want to miss an opportunity to put a baby in your belly.”
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him. “I’m exhausted from all the effort,” she teased.
* * *
They caught their flight as scheduled the following morning, checked into their bungalow at the seaside hotel, and were lying on the beach sipping drinks by lunchtime.
“God, this is amazing,” Sophie said. They had rented chairs at a private beach club and she lay in her bikini soaking up the sun. It was unseasonably warm and would remain so while they were here.
“I’m going in for a swim,” Michael said. “It’s too hot.”
“How can you say that,” she began, not even opening her eyes. “We live in Amsterdam. We see the sun like once a week. Twice if we’re lucky! Soak it up. Sweat a little.”
“You soak it up,” he said, leaning in to kiss her lips. “I’m going for a swim.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, but watched as he walked out into the water, his muscular body graceful as he dove in and resurfaced several feet away. He swam out to the boundary and she sat up to wave. He beckoned her in and although reluctant, she took her sunglasses off and swam out to him.
They spent the afternoon at the beach and watched the sun disappear into the horizon before returning to their bungalow.
“Let’s have dinner here,” Michael suggested. “I want to talk about something with you,” he said when they walked in. “Probably better done in private.”
“I’m intrigued,” Sophie said. “Mind if I have a shower first though?”
“No, go ahead. I’ll order something for us.”
“Perfect,” she said.
“What do you want?”
“Fish, like the one you had at lunch. With a lot of lemon. And a big salad. And a huge dessert. Something chocolaty.”
“You eat more than I do these days,” Michael teased.
“I’m happy. And a pig. Oink,” she teased, slipping out of her swimsuit. “I’m a happy pig.”
When he tried to grab her, she jumped just out of his reach and ran for the bathroom.
Once they were both showered and dressed, a knock on the door signaled their food had arrived. The waiter set up their meal on the small outdoor table in their own private garden. He opened the bottle of wine, poured, and once Michael looked everything over and gave the okay, left them alone.
They settled at the table and took up their glasses.
“Cheers,” Michael said, clinking his glass to hers.
“Cheers,” she said back, digging into her food. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, taking a bite of her fish after drowning it in lemon. “Yum!”
She looked up to find him watching her. “Eat first.”
She shrugged her shoulders and devoured her plate when he’d just barely begun. Only after they were both done with dinner did he start.
“I want to get more involved at the club; there’s so much to learn and experience I don’t even know where to start. I want to learn how to use all the various implements, I want to see others play. There’s so much we don’t even know about. In addition, I want to spend whole weekends with you naked at my feet. The thought of what we could do, it drives me wild.”
She smiled a pleased smile. This was more than she hoped for, more than she could ever have asked for.
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
“What is it?” she asked; he seemed hesitant.
“When I said I want to get more involved at the club, well, would you consent to allowing Kyan to spank you in the main room?”
“Kyan?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
Michael nodded once. “I’d be there with you the entire time. I want to see how far he takes you, what he uses, how you react. And I want to watch your face. I want to watch others watch you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and you can say no, Soph, I’d understand…”
“Yes,” she cut him off and blurted it out.
“Really?”
“Yes. I can’t tell you why just yet, but yes.”
Michael smiled and nodded. “While we’re here this weekend, would you agree to some rules?”
“Like what rules? What are you thinking?” she asked.
His grin grew wide and she could see from his eyes that he was aroused. “Like you’re naked from the minute you walk into the bungalow until we have to leave it?”
Sophie set her fork down and her grin matched his. She rose to her feet and in one motion, untied the halter dress she was wearing and let it slide to the floor.
“Naughty girl, no panties?”
“No, Sir,” she teased. “I am a very naughty girl. You should probably spank me.”
“And wise. Go inside and bring me the bag,” he said. The bag meant the one he’d packed with some of their newly acquired toys.
Sophie smiled as she went to retrieve the bag. Once back outside, she handed it over to him.
“Lie down on your back,” he said, opening the bag and retrieving a short black riding crop.
“That’s a new one,” she said and was treated with a quick flick of it across her hip. “Ouch!”
“Speak when spoken to,” he said, rubbing where he’d just struck with the ultra-soft furry side. “We’re playing now. We’ll consider this weekend training.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, lying down on her back on the soft grass.
“Spread your legs and hug your knees into your chest.”
Sophie glanced once at the crop, then at Michael, then again at the crop before slowly pulling her knees up. Her pussy throbbed in anticipation of what she knew he would next do.
“Keep hugging your knees,” he said. He brought the rectangular end of the crop and set it to rest against her sex. He rubbed there, his eyes on hers, that smile still playing on his lips. “What do you think?” He began slowly tapping the crop against her pussy. “About having your naughty little pussy whipped?” he asked. Just as he did, he flicked his wrist and snapped the crop down against her pussy.
Sophie gasped. It was a hot, quick pain that was gone in an instant, leaving only heat behind.
“You like it?” he asked, doing it again, then again.
“Mmm,” she moaned, hugging her knees, not sure at all. The pain was more of a quick sting, but the heat afterwards was amazing. “Yes.”
He struck hard against her buttock.
“Ow!”
“You don’t want to be on the beach with a striped ass, do you?” he asked, this time raining quick strokes of the crop onto her right buttock in such quick succession, she could only gasp, holding on tightly to her legs.
He stopped. “Sophie?” he asked.
“Sir,” she said. “I forgot to say yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir, what?” he taunted.
“Yes, Sir, I like it. I like you spanking my pussy with the crop.”
“Naughty, naughty girl…” he trailed off, running the flexible, split leather end of the crop against her other buttock. “I should turn this cheek to the same color as the other, shouldn’t I, Sophie? Unfair to neglect it, I think, yes?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, her words a whisper as she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation.
“We’ll deal with your ass first. Then we’ll get back to your pussy.”
He rained blows down without c
ounting, without ceremony, without anything at all and she knew he stopped only when the color matched that of her other buttock.
“Oh, God…” she said, catching her breath.
“Good girl,” he said. “Let’s go inside for the rest. Up on your hands and knees.”
She looked at him then understood, turning over onto all fours.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
She did.
Michael slid the crop between her teeth. “Carry that for me, will you?” he said and, with a quick slap on her ass, she was on her way.
Once inside, she sat on her heels holding the crop in her mouth and waited for further instruction.
“Good girl,” he said, taking the crop from her mouth. “Up on the bed, on your back. Open up wide and show me your pussy.”
She swallowed and crawled over, climbing onto the bed and positioning herself as he’d said. He dug through his bag and returned with the crop and a spreader bar.
“Someone’s been shopping,” she couldn’t help but say, giggling a little but closing her eyes when the crop fell on her ass again, twenty in quick succession to each cheek. “Ow. Ow. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Sir.” She giggled.
Michael was smiling as well. “Open,” he said, gesturing with the crop. She did, rolling her eyes first. “That’s going to cost you,” he said, placing the crop back into her mouth. He then adjusted the bar and cuffed her ankles to it before pushing it up to her chest, her knees bent, legs spread wide. “Hold that for me.”
He slid the crop back out of her mouth and brought it back to her pussy, beginning immediately.
* * *
This felt different. Spanking her for fun, for pure erotic pleasure was different. He liked the feel of the crop in his hand and the smell of the leather was intoxicating when mixed with that of her arousal. The crop was stiff, but the end of it quite flexible with its four-inch split leather slapper. He brought it down on her pussy, then alternated on her buttocks and back to her pussy, which soon glistened with moisture. She was panting now, making small noises, closing her eyes. He had to push her legs back up when she relaxed them and held on to the bar at one point to deliver a quick round of ten final strokes to her already heated pussy before setting the crop down.
Reclaiming Sophie Page 11
