Fed Up (5 page)

She headed down the stairs. 

In the early days of their marriage, he’d returned home at the end of the day precisely at half past the hour.  It gave him time to catch the tube, then walk up the street.  Back then, she’d felt important to him.  She’d known that being together meant as much to him as it did to her.

She heard his key in the lock at exactly the right time.

In moments, he’d realise he couldn’t get in.  That would be her cue.

   The door shuddered against the chain.  She walked down the final two steps and across the foyer.  Beth closed the door and unlatched it.

   Jon’s eyes narrowed and she saw his penis start to grow as he looked at her. 

   She took a couple of steps back and said to him, “Drop your briefcase.”

  
After closing the door behind him, he put down the leather satchel.  His eyes had that intensity in them, the intensity that made her damp and made her want to crawl into his arms.

   She bounced the rounded off tip of the cane against the glossy side of her boots. 

He seemed mesmerized.  “Is that for me?”

   “It is,” she said, continuing that rhythmic tapping motion.

   He swallowed convulsively, and his Adam’s apple moved.

   “I’ve always wondered what it might feel like.”

   “You told me.”

   “I can’t believe you remembered.”

   “I can’t believe you’d think I’d forget.”  They’d still been in the States, and they’d spent the day hiking in the EstesPark area.  They’d been tired and hot, so they’d headed to town for a beer.  That turned into a stop at the liquor store, and, fortified by liquid courage, they’d made love and then shared their deepest, naughtiest sexual longings.  He’d confessed a few other things that night, and she hadn’t forgotten them, either.  “You’ll be finding out what the cane feels like in less than a quarter of an hour.”

   “I—”  He dragged a hand through his carefully moussed and styled hair. 

Good thing she wasn’t facing him in court.  One look at him and she wouldn’t stand a chance.  Rational thought became all but impossible.

“Damn, Beth.  Those boots.  
Fuck
.  You look hot.  I want you already.”

   She grabbed him by the tie and drew him close to her.  She dropped the cane, hearing the rattan cane clatter against the ceramic tiles.  With her other, free hand, she enslaved his balls.

“You’ve got my attention,” he said.

She’d given him instructions yesterday that he was never again to wear boxers, or any other kind of underpants for that matter.  She couldn’t exactly tell through his trousers, but she suspected he’d followed orders.  “Kiss me hello,” she said.

   He did.  Softly, sensuously.  This was how a man who was in love with a woman kissed.  She returned it, wanting him to know how much this mattered, how much he mattered.

Jon intensified their kiss.  Her body responded instantly, and her pussy became a molten river of desire.  She straddled his knee, her vulva parting.

“Ride me,” he encouraged.  “That’s it.  I want to satisfy you.”

Still holding him prisoner, she humped his leg.  In the throes of her own ecstasy, she knew she was exerting uncomfortable amounts of pressure on him, but she was too far gone.  She’d been waiting all day to come.

   “I got home as soon as I could,” he said.  He cupped her butt cheeks, giving her a little extra support and she ground her crotch against the steely strength of his thigh.  “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

   When she came, hard, she said, “Your trousers will need to go to the dry cleaners.”

   “I’ll see to it.”

   “You do that.  But first, dry my cunt with your mouth.”  Before she released him, she squeezed his nuts.  “I expect, in future, that you’ll come in this door, put down your briefcase, then get on your knees and wait for instructions.”  Her words echoed in the small foyer.  “Am I clear?”

   “Yes,” he said.

   “Repeat what I said.”

   “Every day, I’ll put down my briefcase, then I’ll get on my knees and wait for your instructions.”

   She arched a brow pointedly.  “If you understood so completely, why are you still standing?”  Abruptly, she dropped his testicles and released her grip on his tie.

   He dropped to his knees.

   She spread her legs and he moved closer.  He placed kisses on her ribcage, then moved lower, pausing near her navel, then continuing lower.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her steady. 

Then, sometime, somehow, he seemed to forget that he was supposed to be drying her with his mouth.  Instead, she was getting wetter and wetter.

She grabbed hold of his head and dug her fingers into his hair.  Oh, he was a master at pleasing her when he was totally into it.  And he was.

She came again, her pelvis bucking against his face.

He held her until she rode it out.  Then, like a good submissive, he cleaned her with his mouth, not stopping until her pussy was dry.  “You’re a quick study,” she said approvingly.

“Trying to avoid that cane.”  He seemed focused on the wicked looking-thing and not her.

“Rattan,” she said.  Only the best for his naked flesh.

“Not bamboo?  I thought canes were made of bamboo.”

“Bamboo is hollow.  I didn’t want something hollow, so I bought you one that’s rattan, a good, solid eight millimetres around, about sixty millimetres long.  It’s the perfect size for a beginner, I’m told.  If you like, we can always get a thinner one along with one that’s thicker.”

He was mesmerized.  He hadn’t taken his gaze from the rattan.  Jon was definitely not looking at her, which was where his attention should be.  “At this point, there’s no avoiding the cane, you’ll just want to try to avoid
further
stripes from now on,” she corrected.  “You’re going to be disciplined, Jonathan, just so you’ll remember how you want to behave in future.  Stand and drop your trousers.”

He blinked but immediately reached for his belt to unbuckle it.  She had to admit, if roles were reversed, she wouldn’t be nearly as well-behaved.  Which, she supposed logically, was why the roles weren’t reversed.  “At this point,” she said, “you’re glad that you remembered my orders to never wear boxers again.”  She squatted to pick up the cane.

He lowered the zipper after opening the button, then dropped his pants.  He had followed orders.  His cock jutted out appealingly.  She couldn’t help herself; she wrapped her hand around its thickness.  “All day, you thought about your sex organs, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he said.  “And I thought about having sex.  How bad I want to be deep inside you.”

“How did it feel, having your balls swinging back and forth?”

“Sexy.  I couldn’t stop thinking about the way I felt with that cock ring on.  And I thought about you all day.  I couldn’t wait to get home.”

   “Take off your tie and hand it to me.”

   He yanked the knot free and slid the silk from around his neck.  He draped it across her palm.  “Good.  Now strip the rest of the way.  You’ll notice there’s a hanger right there, on the coat tree for your suit coat.  The rest you can deal with later.”  No need to hang his trousers.  After all, they were going straight to the cleaners.

   He finished undressing.   “You know, your breasts look lovely.  I want to suckle your tits.”

   She smiled. “And I want to cane you.”  Which one of them, did he suppose, would triumph?  “Turn around.”  She used his tie to secure his hands behind his back.  They both knew it wouldn’t hold up if he put up a struggle, but it was a statement more than anything.  “I’ll have you on your stomach, if you please.  On the bed, spread-eagle.”

   “Uh…  No cock ring?”

   “You liked that?”

   “Yes.”

   “Then, no.  No cock ring.”

   She followed him upstairs and waited while he got situated on the bed.  This time, there was no need to use a ruse.  He was going to obey because he wanted to.

   He knelt on the side of the bed, being careful to keep his hands behind him.  She gave him a nudge between his shoulder blades, and he pitched forward.

   She untied him, and he got into position, face down, even placing his pelvis on the pillows she’d piled in the middle of the bed.

   Beth secured him much the way she had last night.  “Wrists first,” she told him. 

“I’m using a spreader bar for your legs.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s a long metal bar, and it will keep your legs apart.  Your ankles will be attached to it.”

His struggles were limited because of the handcuffs. 

“If you strained, you might have been able to get out of the ankle restraints.  This way, you can enjoy your discipline.”

“Enjoy getting caned.”

“Indeed.”  She secured the bar in place.  “Comfortable?”

“Not particularly so.”

“I’ve positioned you so the fleshy part of your ass sticks up.”

“I think I’m insulted.”

“You shouldn’t be.  You should be grateful.  You don’t want the cane catching anywhere else.”

She saw him try to squeeze his thighs together.  “I’ll be careful not to catch your balls with the tip.”

“Christ, Beth.”

“Since it’s your first beating, we’ll go easy.  Six strokes should be sufficient since this is about discipline and not punishment, as I mentioned.  This is merely a taste of what you’ll receive if you
are
disobedient in future.”  She checked his restraints a final time.  “Would you prefer to be gagged?”

“No.”

She sighed softly.  “The correct answer is,
whatever you prefer
.  I’m afraid that will cost you an extra stripe.”  She kissed the top of his head.

Moving into position, she delivered the first cut to his right cheek.  He flinched, but said nothing. 

Her boots echoed loudly as she went to the other side of the bed and then marked him for the second time. 

He jerked convulsively.

“Are you sure about the gag?”

“Whatever you prefer.”

“I was right about you being such a quick study.”  She returned to the other side of the bed.  She took aim at that sensitive spot right between his ass cheek and thigh.  That brought a soft grunt from him.

After she’d switched sides and given him another, she said, “Remember to breathe.  You’re more than halfway there.”  She kissed his neck.  “You’ve got a couple of lovely stripes forming.”

He said nothing.

“Ready to resume your caning?”

   “Whatever pleases you.”

   She gave him the next two quickly, barely giving him time to recover.  “You’ve one more to go.”  Beth reached a hand between his legs.  “Lift your hips.”  He hesitated only a moment.  “Your dick is hard,” she said, feeling him up.

   “Yes.  It is.”

   “Next time, we’ll put the cock ring on you.  Your balls are hard, as well.  Excuse me?” she asked when he nodded.

   “They are.” 

   “Sometime, perhaps, I shall cane you until you come.”

   “If it pleases you.”

   “This time, answer the question.  Would you like that?”

   He ground his hips and she pushed her thumb against his anal hole.  “Yes!”

   “You’re an excellent sub.”  She pulled away.  Bringing back her arm, she delivered the final blow as hard as she possibly could, across the centre of both of his cheeks, bisecting them.

He swore.  But he started to hump the pillow. 

“Stop that this instant, you naughty boy.”

“I…”

“Do not come,” she warned him.  Putting aside the cane, she released his hands, then unfastened him from the spreader bar.  “Turn over,” she said.

His cock had never been harder or thicker.

“Please,” he said.  “I want to fuck you. 
Let me fuck you
.”  There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before, a hunger, a demand only she could satisfy.

She climbed onto the bed.  He seemed to completely forget his submissive tendencies.  In only a few seconds, he had her on her back, beneath him.  He paused, teeth gritted.  “Yes,” she whispered.  “Yes.  Fuck me.  Come in me.”

He didn’t last a dozen strokes.

She squeezed him tightly with her internal muscles.  

“Beth!  Fuck!  Fuck, fuck, fuck!”  It took him long seconds for him to get his breathing under control.  Then he collapsed on her.  Turning on his side, he pulled her against him.  “Damn.”

He dug his hands into her hair.  “You’re the sexiest woman on the face of the planet.  How the hell did I get so lucky?”

“You told me,” she said, “exactly what you wanted.”  And she’d always make sure he got it.  Keeping him happy was her greatest pleasure.

“You didn’t come,” he said.

“You noticed.”

“Is that a punishable offence?”

“It is.”

He shuddered again, and it wasn’t from fear, she knew, more like the devastating aftermath of a powerful orgasm.

“Do you suppose I could distract you?” he asked.  “After all, I don’t want to be punished right away.”

“You could try.”

“Beth…?” 

“Hmmm?”

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”

“Good thing.  God knows, I was fed up with the way things were.”

He moved, flipping her onto her back.  He nipped the inside of her thigh. 

“I like this access to your cunt.  Don’t wear knickers ever again,” he told her.

“Convince me,” she said. 

With his mouth, he gave her plenty of reasons…

About the Author

Born in Northern England and raised in the Wild West, Sierra Cartwright pens book that are as untamed as the Rockies she calls home.
She's an award-winning, multi-published writer who wrote her first book at age nine and hasn't stopped since.
Sierra invites you to share the complex journey of love and desire, of surrender and commitment. Her own journey has taught her that trusting takes guts and courage, and her work is a celebration for everyone who is willing to take that risk.

         
Email:
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Sierra loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.total-e-bound.com
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