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“That’s not her job, Dee. You wouldn’t be here if Mrs. Purdy had tomakeyou into a submissive younger wife. Her job is to help us learn how to live the way we already know we should.”
For a moment I felt like I teetered on a high, sharp ridge in the mountains, and I could fall to either side, go either way—but both trails led downward so steeply I wouldn’t be able to keep my balance. I would fall.
But Rick would catch me.
Live the way I already know I should.I swallowed hard, and then I screwed my face into my brattiest sneer and spoke.
“Forget it!” I spat the words out. “Just fucking forget it! I’m… I’m…”
The defiant part of my mind meant to sayI’m leaving, but in that moment, I realized that I didn’twantto leave anymore.
I did want to rebel, however. Hell, yes. I needed to show my lord and master that he couldn’t expect me just to lie down and take it, when he decided in the supreme wisdom of his masculine dominance to discipline me—or decided in the dark lust of his alpha instincts to use me with his hard cock, roughly and without thought for my own pleasure.
So even before Rick moved with the force of a tiger’s spring upon his frightened prey, the wordleavinghad died on my tongue. I wouldn’t have been able to speak it anyway, though, because of the enormous gasp, and then the cry of fear, that my body emitted when I felt him grab me.
He turned me around and bent my right arm behind me before I could even muster the slightest resistance. He started to march me toward the bedroom.
“Wait!” I yelled, struggling against his grip.
“Not a chance, Dee. We both know how badly you need to go over my knee.”
My body’s reaction to Rick’s words, delivered in the most dominant, confident, masculine voice I had ever heard coming from his mouth, was immediate and almost overwhelming. My pussy clenched. It felt like every muscle in my body tensed with a shock of arousal, and then relaxed as a sob burst from my throat.
I felt Rick feel that response, and—as if to show me he meant to back up every one of his words with resolute action—he took advantage of my sudden, helpless yielding to propel me rapidly forward, down the hall, and through the bedroom door.
Just before he marched me through the door I managed to get control over my muscles again. I tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he bent my arm a little further, just enough to control me.
“Ow… Ricky… please…” I said. “You’re hurting me! Please…”
“You know what to call me now, Dee,” he replied in a growl, pushing me toward the foot of the bed. “When you do, I’m happy to discuss this—once you’re where you belong.”
Where I belong.I wanted not to know what he meant, but every part of me—brat, good girl, naughty observer… even the independent, rational young woman—did.Where I belong.
Over my husband’s knee.
“Sir,” I pleaded, blindly desperate to avoid actually ending up there again. In the private room in the Selecta airport lounge I hadn’t really had to understand what it all meant; the very idea had been so overwhelming… had somehow felt both so outrageous and yet so mortifyingly familiar that I hadn’t had any capacity to think it through.
Here, in this lovely home in Rocky Falls, I understood it much better than I wanted to. Children went over their daddies’ knees, when they needed to learn a lesson. An independent young woman—even the kind who marries an older guy and hopes he’ll take care of her—doesn’t go over her husband’s knee.
Unless.
Unless she needs it. Unless she can’t behave herself properly… refuses to acknowledge her desires, her truly submissive nature… acts out… says rude things to a woman who’s only trying to help.
Then, that young bride belongs over the knee of the man who’s taken on the responsibility of guiding her. For her own good and their good as a couple, he has no choice but to put her there and correct her behavior the old-fashioned way.
“Sir,” I begged. “No… wait…”
But Rick had already started to sit down on the foot of the bed, turning and pulling me off balance so that I toppled over his left thigh, my upper body coming to rest on the too-familiar comforter. I felt his hand reach down to grab the hem of my skirt and again my body responded with terrible treason; the mere brush of his hand across my bottom and the sensation of my husband raising my skirt to bare me for discipline brought a sob of need from my throat.
Then I remembered the lingerie. It hadn’t been easy to forget, but I had managed over the past hour or so as I had become more used to the new feeling down there, the mortifying lewdness of having my pussy waxed smooth for my husband and dressed in a lacy thong. I remembered at the same moment Rick got my skirt up far enough to see my panties.
I could tell he had seen them… had seen how the thong ran so prettily and narrowly between the bottom-cheeks where he had left his mark with such authority the previous night… because his hand paused for a moment, and because he made a noise in his throat—a surprised sort of noise, but also the sound I had known since our first cuddling sessions, in his bed in the shared apartment.
It sounded like he was clearing his throat and breathing out through his nose at the same time, and I knew it meant something about me—about my body, or the way I moved it, or something I was wearing, or all of that—had turned him on so much he could hardly control himself.
I felt blood rush to my face, but despite everything I couldn’t help smiling—though I felt very glad that Rick couldn’t see the smile.
CHAPTER31
