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I didn’t even get my arm free. Rick pulled me in closer and turned me back toward the bedroom door.
“Stop it! Ricky, goddammit! This isn’t going to happen!”
I heard those words come from my own mouth. I felt the tension inside me rise with their defiant sound, the anticipation of how my older husband would respond to them.
My mind, the core of me, as if observing from somewhere else said,Brat. You lied about being hungry. You lied because you didn’t want to fulfill your duties in the bedroom.
He had me through the doorway, and he manhandled me toward the huge bed with its luxurious comforter, beautifully contained in a cream-colored cover. A distant part of me swooned at the very idea that I could live in a home like this one, with such nice things.
I had no notion, really, of how I could think that when my husband was propelling me toward the lovely bed with the intention of teaching me an old-fashioned lesson for my bratty attitude. Somehow, though, I kept thinking through it all that Rick had an incredible opportunity here, which meantIhad an incredible opportunity here… that thispositionRick wanted to make a little clearer to me, as shameful as it seemed, also involved luxury.
The kind of luxury a man like Rick deserves, for his… for his confidence, his resolve…
I let out a sob from the bottom of my chest as my husband pushed me down over the edge of the beautiful bed.
His dominance.
“Get on your elbows,” Rick growled. “I’m going to spank you until you’re ready to get undressed for your whipping.”
Somewhere in my head there seemed still to exist a cool, rational voice. Despite the insane circumstances—at least as that logical part of my mind judged the situation—I could hear it speaking calmly. I knew by now that I would never be able to do a single thing it told me I should, as intelligent as its advice might prove. Bizarrely enough, however, its words played in my thoughts like a steady crawl of local news under a video of valiant firemen trying to tame a wildfire.
You have absolutely no choice,the rational voice told me.You should do what Rick says, and give him whatever he wants. Then you should wait until he’s asleep, because men always fall asleep after… that. Then you should run, even if you decide not to try anything really drastic, like tying himup so that you’re sure to have a head start.
So I should have just submissively lowered myself to my elbows. I should have said,Sir, I’ll take off my clothes now,then,Sir, I’m sorry,and even,Sir, I know you have to whip me.
The thought of saying those things, more than anything else, drove away every possibility that I might follow the advice of the logical voice. Not because they seemed repugnant to me, though they did, at least at the level of rationality.
No, I kept struggling against my husband’s attempts to bend me over the bed and spank me because of my body’s reaction to all of it. Because of the mortifying thrill that went through my limbs, centering between my legs, when I thought of sayingSir, I know you have to whip me.
I tried to stand up, but Rick had already started to punish me. His big hand smacked my bottom very hard—even harder than at the airport, it seemed to me. He pressed on my shoulders as I cried out in surprise and discomfort, and he spanked me again.
“On… your… elbows,” he growled, continuing to spank me as, wedged between his strong body and the side of the bed, I kept trying to straighten up and twist away.
You can still give in,the calm voice said.If you make him angrier, he’s just going to whip you harder.
Again, the unwelcome jolt of need went through me, making my hips jerk. Rick spanked me again, and my shameful arousal, along with his relentless physical power, forced me over, my right hand splayed out at full length and my left elbow under me. My bottom had started to burn like fire, but a wildness had started to build in me. I kept trying to twist away even with my strength once again nearly gone.
Rick kept his left hand firmly on my back, to make sure I didn’t get up, but he stopped spanking me.
“Both elbows,” he said. “Are you ready to do that for me?”
Yes,said the rational voice.
“No,” I heard myself sob.
The thrill of fear and arousal that seemed to burst in my tummy and my pussy simultaneously when I realized I had just flat-out bratted made me feel faint. Rick snapped me out of that instantly with his huge right hand, unleashing a hail of spanks, right, left, center, up and down my thighs, that made me cry out over and over. My whole backside seemed to blaze under his correcting hand.
Suddenly, to my astonishment, I felt something inside my heart and my mind that I had never allowed myself to feel. The thing I had feared to feel—that night at his apartment when I had saidForget it… in the private room at the airport, over Rick’s knee… on my wedding night and then on our last night at the lodge—it just happened, without my being able to hold it back.
My husband… he’s… he’s…
Rick’s hand rose and fell, again and again. I sobbed, the tears of shame and discomfort running down onto the comforter. My muscles seemed to relax, to yield.
My husband is… is… is breaking me. No… he’s broken me. He’s broken me, to train me as his wife.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, completely unable to control my body’s reactions, “oh… sir… please… please… it hurts so much.”
Rick stopped the spanking again.
