HIS By Design -Coveting Claire (7 page)

She soon realized that was not going to be an
issue when the first spank landed. The blow took her breath away.
She couldn’t hold in her surprise at how much it hurt, realizing
now that he’d been pretty light with his spanks the night before.
“Fuck, Julian! Is that what you call taking it easy!”

Julian tightened his arm around her waist and
tipped her a little further over his knee. “Language, Claire. I can
see you’ve picked up some bad habits in the Big Apple.”

He took note of her protest, however.
Lightening the force of his blows considerably, he systematically
applied a number of stinging spanks all over her upturned bottom in
a leisurely, unhurried rhythm. Claire couldn’t help thinking it was
so typical of him to deliver the smacks in such a measured manner.
Starting at the top of her cheek he worked his way down in
overlapping spanks all the way to the soft underside where bottom
and thigh met. Spanking backwards and forwards rhythmically between
each sit spot, he heated them enough to elicit a number of howls
and bucking from her before working his way back up the other cheek
in the same overlapping system. Then he repeated his journey only
in an alternating pattern of spanks across both cheeks this
time.

Humping and bucking across his thighs, she
let out her breath and concentrated on coping with the heat
building in her backside. Even through the cotton material of her
pants, she felt the burn and not just in her buttocks. Her pelvis
and pussy were hot and throbbing in cadence with his every smack.
Just before it started to truly hurt, he stopped and ran his hand
over her bottom. It was a simple, straightforward action, but on
top of the heat from the spanking, it felt insidiously erotic.
Claire bit her lip and tried not to moan too obviously.

After a few moments, he lifted her, sitting
her on his lap. Amusement was rife in his tone and touch, but his
arousal was abundantly clear. “Let that be a lesson to you, young
lady. That should teach you not to assault me to gain an unfair
advantage.”

Wriggling on his lap, she took satisfaction
in the effect that had on his body. Nevertheless the playful nature
of this spanking was uppermost. She stuck out her tongue and threw
him a rebellious look. He laughed, kissed her pouting lips and then
flipped her back across his knee. “Now, about your language.”

Claire howled in protest repeating her futile
warnings. He ignored her, spanking her more robustly this time
focusing on the join between her bottom and thighs. Again, he let
her up before it became too painful. Drawing them both to their
feet, he sent her towards the garage with a powerful swat. “Out to
the car, woman. I’ve worked up quite an appetite for lunch after
that.”

“Brute.” She flung back at him as she
flounced away towards the car rubbing her bottom.

“Brat.” He countered.

***

Their light-hearted mood continued over lunch
as they baited one another and traded insults across the checkered
tablecloth of the outside cafe.  Claire decided to round off
her meal with an ice cream cone, so they made their way along the
wharf to the Baskin-Robbins concession.  

Julian watched indulgently as she deliberated
over her selection, his eyes on the cute bottom he'd enjoyed
spanking not so long ago. He'd hoped she might have desires in that
direction and the easy way they'd slipped into it was typical of
the camaraderie that marked their relationship. It boded well for
his plans. He was pleasantly aroused and agreeably satisfied by
their light-hearted play that was more robust and yet not quite as
sensual as the smacking last night. Both instances were so
different from the first time he spanked Susanna. Like everything
to do with his late wife, it was intense and overwhelming.

It was only a couple of weeks into their
relationship. He'd woken in the early morning to find her gone from
the bed. Pulling on his jeans, he'd walked out to the deck to see
her coming out of the ocean. At first, he was too mesmerized by the
sight of her voluptuous body to notice the red flags indicating it
was unsafe. Watching her in the shapely one piece she wore for her
daily swim, all he could think about were the things he'd done to
her body the night before. She was beside him on the deck before it
dawned on him. His hold on his temper was a lot weaker in those
days, especially around her.

He stepped in front of her, his voice tight
with fury. “Damn it, Susanna! We talked about this! Those flags are
up for a reason!”

She laughed sweeping past him, attempting to
deflect his temper with her condescension. “Don’t be silly, Julian.
It's perfectly safe. I’ve been swimming in this part of the ocean
since before you were born.”

That did it. It was bad enough she was
risking her safety without trying to play the ‘before you were born
card’. He caught up with her in the bedroom just as she stripped
off her swimsuit. He was so overwhelmed by the terrifying image of
her beautiful body caught in the ocean currents and battered
against the rocks that he wasn’t even distracted by her nakedness.
No way was he losing her over her stubborn disregard for danger.
Acting instinctively, he lifted her in his arms, carried her over
to the bed, sat down, hauled her across his lap and laid into her
relentlessly. His hand hurt for hours afterwards and her beautiful
bottom fared a lot worse. When he finally stopped spanking, she
just lay across his lap, bawling her eyes out.

It was then it hit him that his impetuous
action could totally screw up the best thing that ever happened to
him. No matter how much she deserved it, she may well throw him out
for this. Hell, she might even have him arrested. The state of her
backside would certainly provide enough evidence. His heart in his
mouth, he just looked down at her wondering what he should do. He
wanted to take her in his arms to comfort her, but he feared her
rejection. He thought maybe he should apologize, but that would
defeat the whole purpose, rendering the spanking and her suffering
pointless.

In the end, he risked her rejection and stood
by his discipline. Taking her in his arms, he rubbed her back and
held her tenderly while reinforcing his chastisement with a firm
lecture. She buried her face in his shoulder and once she calmed
down and stopped sobbing, offered a hiccupping apology. The
punishment worked. From that day on, she never went in the water
when the red flags were up.

The lovemaking that followed was even more
profound and passionate than anything they'd shared so far. That
night, she asked him to marry her. Ironically, considering Julian’s
fears, the spanking was what decided her. She was used to everyone,
especially men, kowtowing to her. She'd given up on finding a man
who could rein her in. Gradually spanking and domination crept into
their sex life and they enjoyed scening on occasion, but discipline
was most powerful between them when he employed it as strict
punishment. He lost count of the number of times he turned his
headstrong wife across his knee for a severe spanking or ordered
her into position across the back of the couch for a thorough
strapping. There were even times when she was so willful he had to
hold her, struggling rebelliously, face down on the bed to spank,
paddle and belt her soundly, his arm aching, before she surrendered
in pleading, remorseful sobs, promising to behave.

Looking back on it so many years later, it
amazed him. He couldn’t imagine ever punishing Claire that
severely. Not only had he repressed that intensity in his nature,
but Claire was never likely to misbehave enough to warrant it. She
was prone to tantrums and a bit careless at times, especially over
locking doors and keeping track of keys, but in general, she was
careful and well behaved. She was independent, but not headstrong
like Susanna or likely to deliberately bait him, other than in fun
as she did earlier. In the six years, they'd known each other there
was hardly ever a cross word between them. The intimacy and
familiarity of marriage would change that some he knew, but overall
he expected spanking to be mostly playful and erotic between them.
He imagined he might have to discipline her for real now and then,
but he didn't anticipate the need to be severe with her.

***

Claire looked across at Julian and voiced her
selection a second time. He was clearly elsewhere. She was quite
capable of ordering and buying her own ice cream, but it was a
long-standing ritual for him to supply this treat. She felt a silly
desire to keep to it, especially on this first weekend together.
Happily, he came to at her second request. After ordering and
paying for the ice cream, he handed it to her with a tender look
that told her this ritual was important to him as well. She was
just about to thank him when an all too familiar voice rent the air
and Claire was eternally grateful she'd changed her clothes.

The afternoon crowd parted and Andrea
appeared in all her splendor.  She was dressed in lavender
slacks of the same style as Claire's, and looked just as good in
them, regardless of the fact Claire knew her to be well over twenty
years older than herself.  Unlike Claire's, which were cotton,
they were made from the same material as Andrea’s elegant, cream,
silk blouse.  Numerous gold chains adorned her neck, wrists
and even her ankle.  A pair of cream strappy sandals added to
her already towering height, and the whole effect was regally
capped by a silky scarf, in the same shade of lavender, woven
through her smooth, platinum-colored hair. As usual, Andrea looked
outrageously fabulous.  She didn't look a day older than at
their last meeting, two years ago in New York.

"Julian, I knew it was you, I'd know those
curls of yours, anywhere."

Claire could've sworn she was going to ruffle
his hair in much the same manner she would one of her three
full-grown sons.  It was amazing how such a maternal woman
could dress in so unmatronally a fashion and get away with it.
 Andrea's attention was drawn away from Julian as she noticed
Claire.

“Why it's Claire.  I hardly recognized
you.  You're all grown up.  Isn’t she, Julian?"

He handed Claire her ice cream (who fervently
wished she'd chosen any flavors other than bubble-gum and
tutti-frutti) and refrained from answering.  He merely sent
Andrea a warning look.  A look missed by Claire.  Andrea
paid no attention.

"Of course she is.  It's more than your
hair, which really does suit you.  You've acquired a New York
polish, created your own style," and then she added with an
emphasis and a pointed look at Julian.  "Nobody would take you
for a teenager now."

"I should hope not, I'm twenty-six."
 Claire replied and stuck her nose mutinously into her
cone.

"Twenty-six, how time flies.  Next we
know you'll be married with babies.  Won't she be,
Julian?"

She looked at him quite pointedly and Claire
could tell he was struggling not to laugh outright.  Really,
she was incorrigible.  Claire could tell he’d just decided to
come to her rescue when he was forestalled by the appearance of
Andrea's husband, Stephen, and their three-year-old granddaughter.
 The little girl squealed with delight at the sight of Julian
and threw her arms around his legs, demanding to be picked up.
 After this'd been accomplished, she announced to all and
sundry that he was her favorite person in the whole world, and then
deflated this statement by qualifying it with. "Next to mommy and
daddy and granny and grandpa ... "and after a slight pause added,
almost apologetically,” ... and my baby brother Michael.”

Julian treated this obviously recent
defection as it deserved, by tickling her.  This procedure was
greeted with squeals and chuckles and after a questioning look at
Andrea, he treated her to an ice cream. To Claire's dismay, she
chose the same combination as herself. She tucked into the
offending article as the adults beamed at her, as adults tend to
with children who are not their own.  Having demolished a
goodly portion, she stared at Claire and uttered a question with a
forthright candor that marked her unerringly as Andrea's kin. "Who
are you?"

Julian laughed indulgently. "Marcie, you
should wait to be introduced, like a proper, young lady."

"Why," emitted the potential, proper, young
lady, wiping her chin on his shirt.  An exercise, to Claire's
amazement, he completely ignored.  "Oh alright, intra 
... doose me then,” Marcie capitulated, her inexperienced tongue
having a little difficulty with the word.

"Claire, I'd like you to meet Marcella
Saunders.  Marcie this is Claire Fitzpatrick, a very good
friend.”

"How come I've never met you before, if
you're Uncle Julian's friend?"

Good Lord, Andrea must be training her.
"Because I've been away in New York."

"Oh."  She accepted the explanation and
returned to her cone, but first managed to wipe her sticky hands on
Julian's hair.

“Why don't we find a shaded cafe and have a
cool drink," suggested Stephen.

Everyone assented and they walked along the
wharf, Claire falling into step beside Stephen, behind Andrea and
Julian, who still held Marcie in his arms.  She hardly heard
Stephen's comments welcoming her back so engrossed was she in
observing Julian's dexterity with the child.

She turned to Stephen, who'd taken his pipe
out of his rumpled pants pocket and was now fishing through his
nondescript shirt for a light.  She offered him the matches
she'd picked up at lunch and wondered, for at least the hundredth
time, what this quiet, faintly absent-minded man ever had in common
with Andrea.  There had to be something.  They'd been
married for twenty-eight years and, according to all reports,
extremely happily.

 Declining to further explore this
mystery, she returned to her previous source of amazement. "Julian
seems to know Marcie very well."