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“You were just telling me I needed to teach her as soon as possible…”
“I told you she needed to be gotten under control. I did not tell you that you had to turn her into an assassin in a day. You’re going to have to be patient, Cosmos. I know that doesn’t come naturally to you. Elise is going to challenge you in many ways. Now. You might want to go adjust that attitude of hers before it becomes entrenched.”
I take Bryn’s advice and go and find my wife. It’s not hard to find her. She’s fled to the computers and is tapping away on the keyboard when I enter the room.
“I’m not doing any more exercise,” she says, refusing to pull her eyes away from the screen. “I don’t care what you do to me.”
I’ve done enough talking for one day. I’m obviously not going to argue or cajole her into doing as she’s told. That suits me fine. I know how to handle a naughty little girl who doesn’t want to listen.
I snag Elise out of her computer chair, take the chair myself, and pull her squirming, cursing body over my knee. She feels perfect over my lap, her weight, her curves, the tension in her muscles making her a perfect little package to be disciplined.
“You’ll do as you are told, brat,” I tell her, landing a hard slap to her rear. She gasps and lets out a little curse under her breath. “If I tell you that you’re going to train, you’re going to train. Your only choice is whether you do it comfortably, or if you do it very, very sore.”
“You’re a bully!”
“I am your husband and your master. I am your beginning and your end. You will obey me, Elise, either willingly and with grace, or reluctantly and in pain.”
Fuck. I sound like Bryn. Gross. I always thought I’d be the cool husband, the one who let his wife be who she wanted to be and do what she wanted to do. But Elise is making that absolutely impossible.
I peel down the leggings and underwear that protect her modesty and I set about spanking her pretty rear with several dozen hard slaps delivered in a swift staccato, turning her cheeks bright red in under a minute. She’s more tender than she realizes. When she opens her mouth and sasses me, she forgets that this is a possibility. I’m going to make sure she remembers.
“Fucking OW! Cosmos! Stop! Please! Fuck! Stop!” She’s begging and cursing and wishing she’d behaved herself in the beginning, but it is already too late. She’s going to get a proper spanking, the kind of spanking that doesn’t stop until a lesson is irrevocably learned.
I paint her ass pink with my palm, listening to her plaintive squeals and wails and feeling myself harden at each and every one of them. She calls me a sadist, and that is an accurate term. Unfortunately for her, my bride is not a masochist. She doesn’t like this pain — and that makes delivering it even more satisfying.
She could have obeyed. She could have done as she was told. I would have praised her and petted her and rewarded her if she had just been a good girl. But she wanted to be bad, and now she is destined to cry over my thighs, her sobs music to my ears.
“You’re hurting me!” She wails the words, as if they will be some kind of revelation.
“I know,” I tell her, my voice deep and rich with satisfaction. This spanking is designed to hurt, and to shame. She will not sit easily for quite some time. She will perhaps loathe me for it, but she will respect me and she will obey me next time I give her an order.
Her pretty ass is not the only target of my stern slaps. Her upper and inner thighs also make themselves available targets as she flails in the helpless attempt to avoid punishment. She brought this on herself. She knows what I am, and she knew better than to defy me. It has been too long since she was punished. I will make every part of her sore if I have to.
“Please! Please! Ow! I’m sorry! Ouch! Cosmos!”
Her begging is not making me feel in any way merciful, but it is turning me the fuck on.
“On your knees,” I growl, pushing her down from my lap to the floor. A good, tamed bride belongs on her knees before her husband. Elise has not shown proper respect from the beginning. I’ve been too soft with her, too aware of her feelings and too encouraging of her rebellions. She doesn’t know what’s coming next. She thinks I’ve taken mercy on her. The truth is far harsher than she imagines.
My cock springs free from my pants as I loose the zipper. One of my hands is curled in the back of her hair. The other fists the base of my cock. I bring the two elements together, her hot, wet mouth, and my rigid, unyielding dick.
