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She nodded.
He seated himself upon the side of the bed and held out his hand. “Come then.” His voice brooked no dissent.
She looked at his sturdy thighs spread apart and at the rounded bulge in between. She swallowed and licked her dry lips. A shiver ran down her spine, again not from fear.
The slickness betwixt her thighs gushed dew at her thought of being overpowered by him, the man she could trust above all mankind not to harm her. A man she implicitly loved and trusted, her husband, her lover who took her to the very pinnacle of passion, always cradling her in his loving arms afterward.
For Angele, a spanking followed by the possession of her body by his hard member were the ultimate in feminine submission. She loved the feeling of safety that his dominance brought.
Stepping towards him now, she laid herself naked over his lap. She shifted as he adjusted his thighs, laying one long leg across the backs of her own. His arm cradled her waist.
“Hands,” he reminded her.
She offered him her wrists, which he held in one large hand, secure behind her back.
“Are you feeling comfortable?” he asked.
She marvelled at his insight. “Oui, merci, cherie.”
“Very well. For the first year of our unnecessary separation, you shall receive twelve spanks with my hand for my twelve months of torment. That shall be followed by another twelve with the hairbrush. These are for the twelve months you denied me the pleasure of watching my son grow in that first year.”
Her heart racing, she waited for the first spank to fall. The smacks when they came were fast but not particularly hard. Twelve were delivered in under a minute. Angele lay boneless over his thighs. Her heart rate steadied, and she relaxed. This actually felt quite nice.
She yelled in shock—a sudden stinging blow to her right buttock caught her unawares. Before she could register the full impact of the scalding pain, another blow landed upon her left cheek. This was more than she’d bargained for and she could not help but buck, not that it did her any good, for she was well and truly locked in place by his powerful hold. There was no room for manoeuvre. It was clear she was in for a proper chastening, but she found she couldn’t quite settle and submit to the punishment as she’d planned—after all, it hurt!
“You knew this was to be a punishment. It is not as though you haven’t been spanked with the hairbrush before. Accept my retribution, Angele, or suffer another five added to the tally, it is up to you,” he scolded ruthlessly.
Frantically, she snaked her hips in an attempt to escape, but he held on tightly, wielding the brush heavily against each of her tender orbs in turn. She let out a howl, churning her bottom. Scorching thwacks landed all over her rump but most painfully on the tops of her thighs. Those smacks incited the loudest shrieks.
When she realised the spanking was finally over, her poor derriere felt twice its normal size—and singed. This was no seduction, yet she adored the fact he’d held her firmly in place and enforced his will upon her. Angele moved, becoming aware of the slickness between her thighs.Mon dieu, how embarrassing. Once again she was wringing wet.
His hand swept across her hindquarters, caressing her heated posterior.
“It is all over for today. Only four more sessions to go, and your slate will be wiped clean.”
“Comment?”
“It is an English saying, meaning that you shall be absolved of your sins,” he explained. “One year is atoned for. Goodness, if this is an indication of how the hairbrush affects you, perhaps I am not using it hard enough,” he exclaimed as his hand slipped betwixt her soaking thighs, cupping her drenched mound in his palm.
She moaned and lost all sense of decorum at the feel of his handthere. She pushed her hips back to meet his touch.
“So deliciously wet, my wanton angel? Such a crying shame that this is punishment and you will have to wait upon my pleasure to receive your release. I might be kind and bed you tonight, or who knows, perhaps I shall wait until the morrow.”
She mewled helplessly; his fingers continued to arouse her. Perhaps she could crest and reach the dizzy heights of completion? She strained, panting with frustration towards a goal that eluded her. Suddenly, without warning, he tumbled her upright so she was seated upon his lap. Tears of vexation filled her eyes.
“Do you feel any less guilty after your first year’s punishment?” he asked.
“I would feel less guilty if you took me to bed andprovedthat you forgive me,mon amour,” she cajoled.
He cocked his head, looking at her thoughtfully as if considering her suggestion. She held her breath, her desire increasing.
“Or you could prove to me that you fully atone for that first year of our separation?”
Her mouth turned down, and she huffed. “How?” she asked after a pause, not liking the glint in his eye.
“On your knees, in the time-honoured way,” he replied, straightening his knees so she slid in an undignified heap to the floor.
She scrambled to her knees, pushing the tumble of white-gold hair back from her flushed face.
