Bound by Lust (14 page)

“Very well. While today's thrashing will address only your need to learn the meaning of the word ‘obedience,' we'll go over the rest of your list to remind you what to expect at this Friday's punishment session.” She motioned toward my glass and picked up the creamy white paper. “Drink up. I want your vocal chords wet enough for some good strong yells when I'm thrashing you.” She took a long, slow sip of her water, pursing her lips as she shook her head at what even I could see was way too many lines of writing. “Oh, dear. You've been quite naughty! Is there anything else you'd like to tell me about before we begin?”

I shook my head, my curls brushing against my shoulders as I forced myself to swallow the cold, wet liquid. I hadn't realized how dry my mouth had gotten. I knew what was on the list. It started with my being rude to her bitchy matron of honor, then ran the gamut from using the wrong fork with my salad to posing with my tie askew for some impromptu pictures.
Therese and I had agreed when we'd negotiated this year's rules that since I was so very serious about being seen in public as an elegant woman, neglecting my manners or decorum at any time would be a punishable offense. The last item was disobeying Therese and drinking that stupid third glass of champagne at the reception.

My hands were trembling, so I set my glass firmly on the table. “Will today's s-spanking be my actual punishment for disobeying you at the wedding? Or is this, um, more general?” Shit. Stumbling over my words was very unladylike.

Therese quirked her eyebrow at me. “Do you need two spankings for disobedience?”

“One would be okay!” Damn. I was even more upset about the tremor in my voice. Therese's fingers were absently stroking the brush now, caressing the smooth, flat, highly polished back. My nipples were burning so much I couldn't help fidgeting. I told myself it was purely because of the effects of the gel, not because I was getting so nervous.

“Very well, dear.” She finished her water and motioned for me to do the same. When our glasses were both back on the table, she picked up the brush in one hand and held the other out to me. “Come inside. I'm going to thrash your bare bottom until I'm convinced you've learned to obey your wife.”

It had been a long time since I'd teetered on my heels, but I did, every step of the way as I followed Therese back into the room. She shut the door firmly behind us and drew the curtains. Then she peeled off the robe of her peignoir.

The nightgown alone was so sheer I could see the cleft between her pussy lips as well as the clear shadows of her large, dark areolas. She pulled the desk chair out and turned the seat toward me. Then she slapped the flat side of the brush against her palm with a loud
smack!

“Bend over with your hands flat on the chair. Bottom out, head up so your hair stays in place.” As I gingerly took my position, she rubbed the brush lightly over my backside. “Normally, I will have you remove your dress before your thrashing. However, this first time, I want to impress upon you the fact that my husband, even when he is dressed as a lady, will get his bottom thrashed whenever he disobeys.”

The first smack caught me by surprise.

“
Ow!
” I stood up, grabbing my bottom in surprise. The look on Therese's face told me that had been a
big
mistake. I quickly bent back down. “I'm s-sorry, Ma'am. I've never been spanked before.” I swallowed hard as I gripped the sides of the chair. “I was surprised at how much it stings. I won't get up again.”

My voice trailed away as Therese chuckled in back of me. “By the time we're finished here, my love, you will never again be surprised at just how much a thrashing—especially a bare-bottomed thrashing!—can hurt.”

“
Ow!
” I jumped as the brush smacked again, but this time, I didn't get up.

“Very good, dear. We shall continue now.”

By the time Therese was finished thrashing the back of my dress, I was struggling to hold my position. I was dancing on my toes on the carpet, howling as the brush slapped again and again over my very tender bottom. My wig had slipped, and my face was sopping with tears. My constant litany of “
Ow! Ow! Ow!
” was interrupted only by my profuse apologies and promises to
always
obey her in the future!

The more I sweated, the more my nipples burned. In the position I was in, my bra moved just enough to make the heat in my oversensitized skin itch and flare even more. Therese helped me to my feet and told me to put my hands on my head. As she eased my dress off, I stood there bawling, feeling like a
naughty little girl having her bottom bared for the rest of her well-deserved spanking. Therese tugged my panties over my hips.

“I want to keep my panties on!” I closed my eyes, shuddering as I unexpectedly jerked away from her.

Therese froze. Even I was surprised at the panic in my voice. When she spoke, her tone was soft and soothing. “Thrashings in this family are bare-bottomed, sweetie.”

“But I don't want my penis hanging out!” It wasn't until I said it that I realized why I was suddenly so upset. I didn't care that my spanking hurt. That was turning me on! I just didn't want my masculine attributes waving where I could see them when I was dressed as a woman.

“Fair enough.” She pulled my panties back into place. “Bend over the chair, with your feet spread as wide as the chair legs.”

As I carefully balanced myself, Therese opened her makeup kit and took out a tiny, jeweled pocketknife. I held my breath as she slit the back of my panties. The front pouch slipped lower as the fabric gave, but I still couldn't see anything but sheer white satin. The breeze on my backside, however, told me my bottom was now fully exposed. Being spanked by my wife was something I once again wanted—very much.

“We'll buy some appropriate panties at Martine's when we return. Until then, you will hold very still during your thrashings, so this style of panties will suffice.”

I did. I wailed and cried and squeezed my bottom cheeks together until I knew, all the way to my bones, that there was nothing in the entire world I wanted to do more than obey and please my Therese!

Afterward, as I stood in the corner sobbing, I choked out my confession to Therese that I'd masturbated two strokes more than I was allowed. I bent over with my hands on my knees and
asked her for my punishment strokes. Therese kept her word, giving me six scorching smacks that had me wailing all over again.

I was totally unprepared for my “after-spanking” panties, though. Therese had me step out of the torn remnants. Then she covered my bottom with the same gel as my nipples and pulled a pair of silk tap pants and an old-fashioned girdle over my bottom. As I howled and danced and kept my hands on my head so I wouldn't try to take my “after-spanking” panties off, Therese led me firmly back to the bathroom and plunked me down on the vanity chair.

My bottom burned and my nipples burned, and in the mirror my eyes were glued to the sight of a beautiful and obviously well-spanked woman in her underwear, with her hair in total disarray and her lipstick smeared and her mascara running down her cheeks.

“My b-bottom hurts!” I blubbered, fascinated with how my pouty lips quivered as the tears streamed down my cheeks.

“That's because you've had a big girl spanking. Sit still while I fix your makeup.”

As Therese repaired the damage, I fought back my sobs, finally calming down enough to hold a cotton ball beneath my eyes so the fresh tears wouldn't undo her work. When my lips were pouty with color again, I took a deep breath and held perfectly still as Therese brushed on waterproof mascara.

“Maybe I sh-should use that in the future—on punishment days?” My voice wavered, but I wasn't crying anymore.

“No, dear. You'll always wear regular mascara for your thrashings. There's something very special about a girl seeing her mascara run when she's had a good cry—especially when her bottom and her nipples burn. It will help you remember how much you want to obey me.” She kissed me gently on the lips.
“Sit here and think about that while I get dressed. We're going out for brunch.”

As Therese threw off her peignoir, I smiled experimentally into the mirror—watching her and myself as she took a dress that perfectly complemented mine from the closet. Now that I knew what having a disciplinary wife was all about, I was definitely going to enjoy being married to mine!

 

G
abrielle,” Jake said.

She paused with her hand on the doorknob, attaché case and car keys in hand, professional and sexy in equal measures. “Yeah?”

They'd already kissed good-bye for the day, but he came over to her and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Her breasts pressed softly against his chest, and his cock stirred.

He was already half-hard, having planned what he was going to say.

“You know how we were talking about picking up a new toy?” he asked.

A slow smile crossed Gabrielle's face. “Mmm, yes.” She wiggled against him a little. He loved how she could get aroused and adventurous just as fast as he.

“Why don't you swing by Eros after work and pick something up?”

“Did you have anything specific in mind?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Give me a call when you get there and we'll pick something out together.”

He kissed her again, then let her dash out the door to catch her bus, grateful that he worked at home so he didn't have to face coworkers with a bulge in his pants.

 

He managed to focus on CAD design all day, but when evening rolled around and he knew Gabrielle would be leaving work, he got distracted. He was ready when the phone rang, comfortable in an easy chair, a printout nearby just in case he needed some ideas.

Thankfully, Eros had a website.

He answered, asked Gabrielle how her day had gone. She bitched a little about her boss, and he let her get it out of her system, make the nightly transition from work to not-work, before he turned the conversation to the sex shop.

“So, did you decide what you want?” she asked.

He smiled. She wasn't quite out of work mode yet, still trying to be efficient and brisk.

“Not really,” he said. “I figured we could browse.”

He wished he could be there to watch her. She was wearing a raspberry linen suit today, with a choker of pale pink pearls, and the colors suited her dusky complexion and blue-black hair. Beneath it all was an ivory lace bra-and-panties set with matching garter belt. She'd been a pantyhose-wearer when they'd met, and he was pleased that she'd taken his suggestion to try alternatives.

She wore garters exclusively now.

“A new vibrator?” she suggested.

“Tell me what the choices are.”

“Jake, I can't stand here and describe—”

“Sure you can,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “It'll be fun. Tell me what you see. Tell me what you like.”

He heard the catch in her breath. She was figuring out this was a game.

She'd be embarrassed, but she'd get turned on. She could be deliciously uninhibited at home, but outside she still clung to that corporate persona, concerned about how she presented herself.

He was pretty sure he could convince her to play the game, even if she didn't yet realize how much of it he'd been planning.

“They've got them in every color, of course,” she said. “I—I like the realistic ones better than the plain, smooth ones.”

“Why?”

She was silent for a moment. Finally, “I guess they feel better. Inside.”

“Go on,” he said. He resisted the urge to touch himself. Not so soon. He was hard, though, thinking about Gabrielle in the store, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink that complemented her outfit.

“I like the rabbit one, but we have one of those,” she said.

“So maybe we should think about clit vibes,” he said. “Maybe those little ones that go over your fingers.”

“Is that what you want me to get?”

She wanted to buy something and get out of there. But he still thrilled to the hint of submission in her question. “I think we're still exploring our options,” he said. “What do you think? How would it feel if I wore them and ran my hand all over you? We could get two sets, for both hands. I'd caress every inch of you, get you all trembly before I even touched your clit.”

She made a little noise, like a mew. The sound went straight to his groin.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

Very quietly, almost so quiet that he couldn't hear her, she
said, “I'm getting turned on.”

Not half as much as he was, he suspected. Not yet, anyway. God, he wished he were there with her, so he could touch her, smell her floral perfume. Back her into a corner and bite at the curve of her neck, the specific spot that made her knees weak.

“I'll bet you are, darling,” he said. “So naughty, standing in a sex shop fondling all the merchandise. Are your panties wet?”

If he were there, he could slip his hand under her skirt and find out for himself. Feel her slickness, taste it on his fingers.

“Yes.” It was a whisper.

“Are your nipples hard?”

“Yes.”

“That gives me an idea,” he said. “Go find the nipple clamps.”

“Oh, Jake.”

“I thought you wanted to try them someday.”

“Well, I did—I do, but…”

“But you don't want to walk up to the clerk with a pair dangling from your fingers? It's okay, honey, he's seen a lot worse.”