Covert Cravings (6 page)

Emily was pacing in the back office of the store.  She had already burned up a ton of nervous energy by unpacking several boxes at a pace worthy of Superwoman, and had changed two displays she had finished just days before.  She wasn’t anxious about what might lay in store for her when she got home.  That was thrilling.  She couldn’t wait to see Scott walk through the door and –––??   It was the guilt she was feeling about her ongoing lie and the fact that she hadn’t touched her blog in several days.  She was desperate to finish her latest entry.  It was haunting her – more than that – it was driving her crazy.  Sitting there, waiting, unfinished.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore.  She had to get out of there.  Scott would be at work and she could sit at her computer uninterrupted and finish the darn thing.  Walking out to the front of the store she took a deep breath and approached Suzanne.

“Hey,” she said, smiling her best, dazzling smile.

“What do you want?  I know that look,” Suzanne replied.

“Um, well – the thing is – I need to leave,” she said, her voice a little whiny.

Suzanne rolled her eyes.

“Emily it’s only 3:30!”

“I know, I know.  I’m sorry.  I can’t tell you what it’s about but it’s really important.  I’ll make it up to you, I promise.  I swear – you go early tomorrow and I’ll stay.  Please?”

Suzanne couldn’t refuse her anything.  She was so sweet and so pretty and so – somehow lovable.

“Ok fine.  Go on.  But next time I ask you a favor...”

“Absolutely.  Anything, anything at all.  You’re a lifesaver,” she cried, hugging her desperately.  “Thank you
sooooo much!”

Emily returned hurriedly to the back room and grabbed her bag then flew out the door.  She was so relieved.  The walls had been closing in on her.  Once she was home she could write and relax.  She needed the break.

As soon as she walked in the door, she raced upstairs and jumped in the shower.  It felt great to wash off the dust and lint from the boxes and all the dresses and skirts she had placed on hangers.  Toweling off she ran a comb through her hair, and finding one of Scott’s white T-shirts still wrapped in plastic, ripped it open and pulled it over her head.  It smelled new.  She had thought the plastic was from the cleaners but realized she’d been wrong.  It had yet to be worn.  How divine!

Feeling better she made her way to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and sat down in front of her laptop.  Taking a deep breath she opened it up and watched the screen jump to life.  A moment later she was staring at her draft.

When he picked up the hairbrush I could feel the hot, hard sting before he’d even crossed the room.
 
His walk was painfully slow and

What was it that came to me at the store?  Oh yeah...

And I felt goosebumps. He was calm. Too calm. I had kept him waiting a full thirty minutes and he was going to make sure I never did it again!

Emily felt the gymnast wake from sleep, her pussy already moistening.

“You are deserving of serious discipline, young lady.  I told you if you kept me waiting even five minutes I would take a hairbrush to your backside.  Even with the warning I was made to wait, in the rain, for half an hour.”

“But I told you, the tire was flat and my cellphone battery was dead!”

“Because, as usual, you forgot to charge it.  Enough.  Not another word.”

He walked closer, pulling his tie from his collar with his free hand.  I looked at him with pleading eyes.  I couldn’t speak but I could silently beg for mercy.

“Let me be clear.  I am not spanking you in anger.  My anger was released at the gym.  I am spanking you because you deserve it and you need it.  Time for you to grow up.”

He placed the hairbrush in my hands, freeing himself to tie my wrists. In spite of my dread I could feel my pussy lips swell and my juices start to flow.

His fingers gripped my arm just above my elbow.  My pulse was racing, my fear real, but even as he lead me to the Chair – the Chair he reserved for my over the knee time – I was overcome with love for him.  He was right.  I had been foolish – thoughtless – and because of me he had stood in the rain for half an hour.

As the brush landed and scorched my skin, as I heard my own cries with each smack, as his scolding words lanced my heart, I felt the relief that comes with payment for a crime.

I would never keep him waiting again.

Emily read what she’d written, shifting in her chair.  The words had flowed with no thought. 

Is this what it’s all about
? Do I want him to make me accountable?  I guess I do.  Yes.  I do.  I want him to make me accountable.  I don’t know why it’s so sexy – why I’m so hot right now – but…

Placing her fingers back on the keyboard she continued to write.

* * *

I need the peace that comes from answering to him. 

He helps me be the best I can be.  

He gives me a safe haven, a place to call home in his body and his heart. his firm hand corrects me when I am a spoiled, willful, irresponsible child. 

When I am good I receive – and when I am bad I receive – and both are given with love.

There was a deep hunger between her legs.  Reaching down she touched herself.  She was wet – needy – and hitting PUBLISH on her screen she sent her blog into cyber space, then hurried upstairs to their bed.

Lying
on the cool, soft bed, she closed her eyes and let her fingers do the walking.  She imagined Scott standing in the doorway, hairbrush in hand.  He was lecturing her, scolding her for being immature, for wearing his T-shirts indiscriminately, for not washing her dishes.  Suddenly she was over his lap, the hairbrush spanking her bottom.  She was rubbing her clit furiously, the wave about to wash over her, she was gasping, then her back lifted and she held her breath – and it broke.

She squirmed under her hand, milking the convulsions, riding the sweet ecstasy of release until the spasms subsided and her hand dropped away.

Her body was tingling and she felt herself doze, lost in an easy sleep.  All the tension – all the stress she had been feeling – like ether it had floated away. 

* * *

In his office Scott’s computer pinged.  He had just received an email.  Bunny’s Blog Alert.  Bunny has just posted a new blog.  He looked at his watch and frowned.  Opening it up he began to read.

Driving home before closing time was another first for Scott.  One he didn’t care for.  He couldn’t understand why Emily was at home.  She had to be. He certainly couldn’t imagine her writing such a thing from the store.

She hadn’t called to say she was sick, and there would be no reason for her to have left the boutique unless there was some kind of emergency, which clearly there wasn’t. He was still pondering her words. 

In their house Emily was happily propped up on the bed having a cup of tea, completely engrossed in a show she had recorded and had been dying to watch.  She couldn’t remember when she’d had an afternoon completely by herself to just laze.  It was heaven.  It was only 4:30 and Scott wouldn’t be home for a full ninety minutes.  She thought she’d have a bubble bath when she finished her tea and watched her show. 

But she hadn’t counted on the guilt.

Suzanne was covering for her and it was naughty of her to have taken off as she did.  Even though she fully intended to make amends, it still didn’t feel right.

Emily didn’t hear Scott’s truck pull into the driveway, or the door open and close, or his footsteps as he climbed the stairs.  Not even when he stood in the bedroom doorway watching her in disbelief did she turn her head.

“What are you ––?” he started, but was unable to finish.

Jumping in shocked surprise, Emily’s cup of tea went flying.  The brown liquid hit the front of Scott’s T-shirt and spilled over on to their bedspread.

“Oh my God! Damn that’s hot,” she yelled, leaping up from the bed, spilling even more. 

“Scott!  Oh, I’m sorry about the shirt.  Why are you home?” she asked, frantically, putting the cup on their nightstand and holding the shirt away from her body.

The television was blaring and Scott marched across to the bed and grabbed the remote, switching it off.  He was seething.  The $75 shirt was brand new.

“I think it’s you who should be answering that question, and that shirt – why do you insist on wearing my shirts?  You’ve stained three of them already.  That one is brand new!”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, crunching her face. 

“Why are you home?  Did something happen at the store,” he pressed.  “Never mind, tell me later – take that shirt off and put it in the sink in cold water.”

She was standing, staring at him, a deer in headlights.

“Now!” he barked.  “Then come back and tell me what’s going on.”  If there was ever a time he wanted to throw her over his knee and spank her silly it was now.  But he held back.  He had read never to spank in anger.  But there was more to it than that.  The manner in which he planned to introduce discipline into their lives had formulated in his mind and he was sticking to it.

Emily felt 12 years old again.  She was mortified.  Running into the bathroom she filled the sink with cold water and dropped in the shirt, pushing it under, making sure it was completely soaked, then wrapped a robed around her naked body and walked back to face him.  He was staring down at the tea stains on the bedspread.

“We’ll have to have this dry cleaned right away,” he said, pulling it off the bed.

“I’m really sorry,” she simpered.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” he asked, irritated, as he bundled up the coverlet.

“I wasn’t feeling very well so I left the store early,” she said quietly.

“Are you getting sick?” he asked.  She looked and sounded perfectly fine.

“No, I mean – maybe – not really.  I just felt frazzled,” she admitted.

He stared at her then cast his eyes across the room.  There were a couple of pairs of panties lying on the chair by the fireplace, with some stockings on the floor next to it.  A bra was lying on top of the dresser.  He couldn’t help but think she had become even less tidy – even less reliable – in recent weeks.  Well their sex life wasn’t the only thing that was going to change!

“Hurry up and get dressed.  I have to get back to the store, but you have some errands to run,” he said firmly.

“I do?” she asked, feeling a flip in her stomach.

“Yes, you do.  Meet me downstairs – and bring that cup and saucer with you,” he ordered, then turned and left the room.

Emily’s heart was in her mouth.  She had never seen Scott so mad.  Her sweet, easy-going guy never barked at her that way.  Not ever.

This is crazy,
she thought,
but jeez he’s so sexy when he’s like this.

She pulled on some jeans and one of her own T-shirts, and slipped her moccasins on her feet.  Grabbing the cup and saucer she raced down the stairs, and found Scott in the kitchen standing next to the sink.  She gulped.  She knew her breakfast dishes were still sitting there.

“First, you’re going to wash up your dishes and put them away,” he said, staring at her.

“Sure.  I was going to ––”
“The fact is you didn’t.  You never do!  Now you will.  I’ve had enough, Emily.  From now on when you dirty something you wash it dry it and put it away. Got it?”

“Yes.  Sure, I will,” she answered, thinking her voice sounded weak and feeble.

“Next – you know where I buy my shirts at Nordstroms?” he asked. He looked very serious and Emily felt another little flutter in her stomach.  “I always ask for Nigel – the English guy.”

“Yes.  I know who you mean,” she said softly.

“You’re going there right now and you’re going to buy me another shirt.  If you want one, you can get one for yourself but my clothes are now off limits. Got it?” he asked, repeating the two words firmly.

“Yes, Scott.  Sorry,” she said, her face flushing. 

“Quite honestly I would prefer you not wear floppy T-shirts at all.  There’s nothing feminine or sexy about them,” he finished.

Emily shifted on her feet.  She was totally embarrassed and Scott suddenly seemed bigger than life. 

“But before you go to Nordstrom’s you can drop off the bedspread at the cleaners.  I’ve put it in your car already, in a trash bag.  And you’re paying for that as well,” he decreed.

“Yes.  I should,” she replied, her voice very small.

“Of course you should.  It’s time you started taking responsibility.”

“You’re right,” she sighed, unable to look at him.

“When you get home you’re going to tidy up your stuff.  Put away your clothes and clean up the mess in the bathroom.  I’m not picking up after you anymore,” he announced, his voice calm and controlled, but very serious.   “Got it?”

“Of course.  I’ve got it.  I’ve got everything,” she simpered, feeling near tears. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit…”

“I’m glad you’re sorry but sorry won’t cut it anymore.  Get it together, Emily,” he scolded, moving away from the counter.  “I’ll be home at the usual time.”

She watched him stride from the kitchen and out the door to his truck.  She wanted to run after him, to beg him for his forgiveness, to feel his amazing, powerful arms around her.  She wanted him to tell her it was ok, that he understood she was a little forgetful sometimes, that dishes weren’t her thing and he’d deal with them.  But even as the thoughts raced through her mind, she didn’t really want him to do or say any of those things.  As much as she was stinging from her scolding, as embarrassed as she was, he had just said and done everything exactly right.