Disciplinary Measures (4 page)

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I understand what you meant.” If he allowed her wiggle room, he could foresee exactly what would happen. He’d call her out for overspending—and he didn’t doubt there would be overspending—and she’d become defensive and would either refuse to be spanked or would call a halt after the first swat or two. His heart hammered. They had so much at stake. “If we’re going to do this, I insist we give it a fair shot.”

“Three months,” she said.

“Six.” His gaze never wavered.

She opened her mouth as if to argue, then exhaled. “Okay.”

“And starting right now, you’re on full shopping restriction for a month. I’m going to ask the bank to notify me if the credit card is used.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Then you won’t have trouble living up to your agreement, will you?”

She executed a pivot a military cadet would be proud of and marched from the room.

Chapter Four

Snuggled against her husband, Gina rested her hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder. She sighed with contentment.

“Tired?” Linc glanced from the road to her. He drove her car, which they preferred to his pickup truck whenever they went out.

She shook her head and smiled. “Happy.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Me too.”

She stretched out her leg to admire her silver ankle bracelet. A band encircled her second toe and attached to a filigree chain that traversed her foot, then fastened around her ankle. Charms dangled from the links and tinkled when she walked. She planned to live in simple flip-flops so she could wear the jewelry every moment. “Thank you again for the gift,” she said. “I love it.”

“You’re welcome. You deserved a reward. I’m proud of you.”

She was proud of herself. She’d gone two weeks without spending a dime, other than for groceries and a few household items, which were not part of her restriction. The threat of a spanking hadn’t halted her shopping, but the understanding of how desperate Linc must have been to insist on disciplinary measures to get her attention. Losing his trust hurt more than a spanking ever could. She intended to restore his faith and repair the damage she’d caused.

She wished now she had confessed the purchase of the cocktail dresses when he’d given her the opportunity. At the time, she’d been so pissed off by his ultimatum she’d withheld the information out of spite. Now that so much time had passed, it had gotten harder to tell him because she did not want to disturb the harmony. And apologies would no longer satisfy him or her. She hoped that her new restraint would be enough to prove that she’d changed when he got the credit card bill.

Not shopping still challenged her. It had become routine to check out her favorite stores on her lunch or after work. And as Linc had pointed out, she always bought something. Only through cold turkey could she kick the habit. Since they’d implemented their agreement, she hadn’t set foot in a store.

But she’d had plenty of spankings. Quick ones. Mini ones. Fun, light swats to her behind that warmed rather than heated whenever she playfully sassed him or otherwise provided him with an excuse to smack her ass. Not that he needed one. The man had become obsessed with her butt, and she’d discovered a new erogenous zone.

It had taken longer than she’d expected to get ready for dinner, and he had been waiting in the foyer when she met him. He’d informed her that tardiness was unacceptable, lifted her skirt, and swatted her bottom a half dozen times. She had omitted panties, intending to tease him with an announcement of that fact at dinner, so he’d added another six spanks for unladylike behavior before he whisked her off to the restaurant sans underwear.

His hungry gaze devoured her all evening. He used every opportunity to touch her, curving his arm around her waist as they strolled into the restaurant, “accidentally” nudging the swell of her breast, casually bumping his erection against her tingling rear as they waited to be shown to their seats, and holding her hand across the table while playing footsie with her underneath it. Wicked fun, all of it.

She anticipated a good hard fucking as soon as they arrived home.

Their marriage had entered a sexual renaissance. Linc treated her with courtesy and respect out of the bedroom, but when the lights went out, metaphorically speaking since they also engaged in day sex, he exerted mastery like never before. She responded to his dominance, perpetually aroused, wet, and ready twenty-four seven.

Th-wap, wap, wap, wap, wap.

“Crap,” Linc swore and slowed the car.

“What’s wrong? What’s that noise?” she asked.

He grimaced. “Flat tire.” He pulled off the highway onto the shoulder and stopped. “Shouldn’t take long to change it, and we’ll be on our way.” Heat replaced impatience as he regarded her.

She pressed her sticky thighs together. He could toss her over the hood of the car right here on the highway, and she’d come like a screaming banshee. If he permitted it. That was a new change as well—he controlled her orgasms, telling her when she could and couldn’t come. The fact he ordered her not to increased the urge, and when he finally gave the signal, holy Christ.

He unlocked the trunk from inside and checked traffic before pushing open his door. She moved to exit too.

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it,” he said.

“No, I’ll keep you company.” She stepped onto the shoulder and squinted into the setting summer sun casting a blush on the horizon. It was still light enough to see; Linc wouldn’t need a flashlight to change the tire.

“Front driver’s side,” he announced and stopped to examine the flat, so she reached the trunk first. She lifted it, intending to pull back the carpeting and floorboard to uncover the spare, when she spotted a slip of pink paper. The receipt for the cocktail dresses.

She snatched it and balled it up in her fist.

“What’s that?” Linc appeared beside her.

She jumped. “What’s what?”

“You grabbed something out of the trunk.”

“Just some trash.” Heart thumping, she ducked her head.

“Here, I’ll throw it away.” He extended his hand.

“That’s okay. I’ve got it. You change the tire. I’ll throw away the trash. That’s a fair division of labor.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

While Linc extracted the spare tire, she scurried to the car. She didn’t dare deposit the receipt in the litterbag, on the slim chance Linc got curious, so she hid the wad in the tiny zippered bag that held her feminine hygiene products she carried in her purse.

Why didn’t you tell him when you had the chance!
Guilt churned anew.

Her husband was jacking up the car when she came round the hood. Traffic whizzed by, creating a draft, and she held down her skirt to avoid flashing the motorists.

Linc smirked. “Careful, sweetheart. You’ll cause an accident.” The affection in his smile stirred the bubbling mixture of desire and shame.

His biceps bulged as he wrenched off the lug nuts, hauled away the flat, and lifted the spare into place. She admired his economy of masculine strength. It would have taken her three times as long to accomplish what he did with minimal effort. Small wonder he could carry her off to bed, hold her with one hand while slapping her ass with the other.

Twenty-four seven
. Even watching him fix a flat got her hot.

He stowed the tools in the trunk, and they climbed into the car. She expected him to start the engine, but he pulled her to his chest and laid a hard, wet one on her lips, his tongue plundering her mouth. Motorists honked. She didn’t care but melted against him, soothing her hunger with the taste, scent, and feel of him.

When he released her, her lips were swollen. “What was that for?”

“The way you look at me,” he said and started the ignition.

They were only a few miles from home, but the drive seemed to take forever. By the time Linc parked in the garage, sexual tension made Gina’s pulse race, her breathing quicken. The slightest movement caused her cunt to ache and clench. Her nipples hurt. She needed him inside her so bad she couldn’t stand it.

He exited the car and came around to her side to help her out. “Thank you,” she said huskily. The light touch of his hand on her arm delivered tingles clear down to her clit.

“My pleasure.”

But it wouldn’t be his pleasure, because she’d decided to confess.

His hand seared the small of her back as he guided her into the house. Night had fallen, but they’d left on a light to ward off the darkness. She led the way to their bedroom, clutching her purse containing the evidence.

She set the bag on the nightstand and retrieved the crumpled receipt from the case. She turned to face him to find he’d removed his shirt, shoes, and socks. Wide shoulders tapered to a lean waist and hips. Dark hair curled across muscled pecs, dusted his flat abdomen. Below that, his erection tented his slacks. With a snap, he pulled his leather belt from the waistband, and the jangle of the metal buckle caused her stomach to clench. Dread? Desire? She couldn’t tell anymore.

She had to stop him before the situation progressed. Before she lost her nerve. Cotton filled her mouth, and she licked her dry lips. She lifted her gaze and almost lost courage upon seeing his ravenous expression. Did she really want to spoil the moment? “I, um, have to tell you something.” She squeezed her fist, crumpling the receipt into a tighter ball. “It…it’s not good.”

He drew his brows together. “What is it?” His concern worsened her shame.

She took a breath. “When you asked me a couple of weeks ago if I needed to come clean about anything else, well, uh, there was. I went shopping when Mom and I went to lunch.”

She opened her hand and held out the pink ball.

He took it. “This was in the trunk?”

She nodded. “It’s the receipt for my purchases.”

He straightened out the paper so he could read it. For the longest time he said nothing.

She couldn’t stand the silence. “Are you going to spank me?” she asked.

He sought her gaze and nodded. “Not because you had been shopping, because that predated our arrangement, but because you lied when given the chance to confess, and you did so again when you dismissed the receipt as trash. However, I appreciate you telling me the truth now. Your punishment would have been far worse if I’d learned about this when I got the bill.”

Her knees knocked together, and she swallowed to hold back tears. This would be her first disciplinary spanking, and she wondered how bad it would be.

“Get undressed,” he said.

Her ankle bracelet jingled when she kicked off her flip-flops. The chain reminded her of something a slave girl might wear. A symbol of the new paradigm. Linc was master of their household; her role was to obey. Despite her fear, her pussy clenched. She craved his approval, needed to erase his disappointment, restore his pride in her.

She pulled her dress over her head and dropped it on the floor, then unhooked her bra and let it fall. He closed the gap between them, and Regina trembled, her knees wobbling. In the role of disciplinarian, he appeared even larger, taller, broader. Next to him, she felt small in size and deed. She wished she’d told him the truth earlier.

She widened her eyes when he pointed to the dresser wall. “I want you to reflect on your behavior. Please go stand in the corner.”

A flicker of resentment lessened her nervousness, and she tightened her lips.
Stand in the corner?
She might have committed an error in judgment, but she was thirty years old, not a disobedient schoolgirl. But for her bottom’s sake, she knew better than to argue. She hadn’t considered all possible ramifications before she consented to obey Linc. But she
had
agreed.

She padded to the corner and stood, toes grazing the baseboard, arms at her sides, staring at the blank intersection of the two walls. Her skin prickled when Linc came up behind her. “Stay there until I return.” He left the room.

* * * *

Linc settled into the leather wingback chair in his office, his mind swirling. He’d sentenced Gina to corner time to allow them both an opportunity to reflect before the spanking. Thought before action. He’d learned the motto from Rod and Cane. It helped to know other men practicing domestic discipline, because he couldn’t ask advice of just anyone.

He and Gina had achieved tremendous progress in the past two weeks, and as he’d told her, he did not hold prior purchases against her. But he couldn’t abide the fact she’d withheld the information when he’d handed her a get-out-of-jail-free card, hidden the evidence, and lied to his face. When he’d looked at the receipt, his heart had sunk, and for a moment he questioned if domestic discipline wasn’t an exercise in futility. But he’d read genuine remorse on her face and realized she
had
fessed up. A little late, but she’d done it. And she had been so good the past two weeks, he’d even rewarded her. He’d kept tabs on their credit card usage, and she hadn’t bought anything but groceries.

But she needed to be disciplined. As this would be her first punishment spanking, an important precedent would be set. He needed to decide how to do it and how harsh to be.

He half wished she’d withheld her confession a tad longer. He’d planned to give the minx the fucking she deserved. She’d omitted panties! He smiled and shook his head. He’d gone from zero to hard when he lifted her skirt to swat her tush and found her bare-assed, her sweet pussy exposed. To teach her a lesson, he’d permitted her to go out in public without underwear to let her worry about possible public exposure.

The joke was on him. Her pantieless condition had consumed his thoughts, stirring fantasies. If he’d slipped his hand under her skirt, would he have found her naked cunt as wet as it had been every other time he’d touched her these past two weeks? What if he dragged her to the restaurant hallway, raised her skirt, and took her against the wall? Or fucked her on the hood of the car as motorists tooted encouragement?

Her consent to be taken in hand at his discretion had awakened not only a sexual insatiability but also dominance in him, which expressed itself outside and inside the bedroom. Her submission during their sexual encounters filled him with satisfaction. And every time he dominated her and found her wet and wanton, her body begging for it, it bound him to her.