Unexpected Consequences (7 page)

“I don’t see how a spanking will make me happy.” Melania flipped her hair away from her face. If the spanking she’d received offered any indication, it would have the opposite effect.

“As women, we juggle many things. But sometimes we drop the ball. Despite our best intensions, we can lose sight of what’s important, and we get off track. When things get out of whack, a whack puts us back in order.” Liz smoothed her hair behind her ear.

Melania rubbed her temples. “You make us sound like those complicated photocopiers that do everything but get jammed because they’re so complex.”

“That’s not a bad analogy,” Liz said.

“A spanking presses our Reset button,” Candi added.

“Exactly.” Liz nodded. “In the working world, I battle as aggressively as any man. When I go home, I don’t want to fight anymore. I want Otis to take over and be in charge. I need that balance in my life.”

“Otis really spanks you? And Tucker?” Melania still couldn’t wrap her mind around the revelations. She toyed with her wedding ring. “Often?”

“As often as required, but it varies,” Liz said. “I hadn’t been spanked in months, but I got one last week after a frustrating day in court. My client’s attorney had acted like a real a-hole, and it put me in a bitchy mood. Normally I leave the negativity at the office or I work it off at the gym, but I brought the mood home with me. Otis and I were making dinner together, and I’d mouthed off to him about something. He let a few snide comments pass, but then he took me by the hand, bent me over the kitchen island, and readjusted my attitude with a spatula.” She laughed. “I took a doughnut pillow with me to court the next day and told everyone my sciatica was acting up.”

Ordinarily Melania wouldn’t have asked the women such personal questions, but she felt an intimacy born out of a unique shared experience. No one but someone who had been spanked by one’s husband could understand. Heck, she’d experienced it and still couldn’t grasp it. She sensed the women had her best interests at heart. And she was damn curious too.

She looked at Candi. Perky, smiling, seemingly happy Candi with the husband who liked to clown around. “How…how often do you get spanked?”

“Well, I’m on maintenance, so we agreed on at least once a month,” she answered.

“Maintenance?” Melania frowned.

Candi bobbed her head. “I get regularly scheduled spankings.”

Melania blinked. “You’re kidding. He spanks you for no reason?” Being punished was bad enough. Getting a spanking when you did nothing to deserve it was crazy. No—it was all crazy.

“There
is
a reason,” Candi insisted. “It’s good discipline. It reminds me to watch my mouth, show respect, and it reinforces that Tucker is in charge. It’s akin to exercising every day instead of only when you want to lose weight.” She grinned. “Or like eating fiber. It keeps me regular.”

Melania didn’t want to judge anyone’s practice, no matter how painfully ridiculous it was. However, she wanted to understand. Her marriage depended on it. “But if you’re going to get spanked regardless of what you do, how is that an incentive to show respect or act a certain way? Why not do what you want if you’re going to pay for it?”

“Oh, I still get punishment spankings,” Candi answered cheerfully. “Maintenance isn’t punishment. It’s…reassurance. It reassures me of my role in the marriage and Tucker of his place. Not all couples practice maintenance, but it works for us.

“I dislike it when Tucker is actually spanking me, and I kick and scream the house down, but I feel so much better afterward,” she said happily, as if she were discussing the restorative benefits of a deep-tissue massage.

Melania looked away, trying to process everything she was hearing. She spied a near-full bottle of wine on the island. “Excuse me, would either of you like another glass of wine?” She glanced from Liz to Candi as she reached for the bottle.

“Sure. Thank you.” Liz held out her empty glass.

“Just a half,” Candi said. “The last time I overdid it at a party, Tucker spanked me the next day.”

Melania poured wine into their glasses—only a half in Candi’s, since she didn’t want to be responsible for the woman getting spanked—and took a sip of her own.

“I find spanking almost meditative,” Liz said. “Some people refer to it as an afterglow. Some women reach a kind of euphoria.”

“All I reached was pain,” Melania said. “All I could think of as it was happening was how much it hurt.”

Liz nodded vigorously, as if Melania had proved her point. “Exactly. All your attention was focused on the experience. You weren’t thinking about what you had going on at work, or this dinner party, or anything else. You existed in the moment. It pushed that Reset button Candi referred to.”

“Well, if it’s supposed to make me calm and centered, it didn’t. I’m so confused, I don’t know what’s what.” Or what she should do next. Going to her parents was no longer an option. Given the information she now had, she knew her father would not allow her to return home, not that she wanted to anymore. Running away wouldn’t solve her problem. She needed to stay and work it out with Jared.

“That’s a normal reaction after the first spanking or two,” Liz commented. “Especially when a woman is as unprepared as you were. The afterglow, the sense of well-being will grow as you receive more spankings. You’ll learn more about your needs, and Jared will learn too.”

“Of course, the orgasms help,” Candi chimed in.

“What?” Melania couldn’t believe her ears.

“Oh, yeah. The sex afterward is fantastic.” Candi grinned. “It’s worth a spanking just for the sex. Tucker and I almost always make love after he spanks me. It’s totally hot. It’s like all my senses are in tune, and when I come, it’s like a supernova blast.” She smiled slyly. “That’s what I really like about maintenance.”

Candi swirled her wine in her glass. “Don’t get me wrong; I don’t enjoy it while my poor butt is being reddened, but I love it when Tucker puts his foot down and goes dom on me,” she added. “He’s normally so easygoing, it’s a big turn-on to see that kind of dominance. The anticipation of a spanking is very seductive.”

Melania tightened her fingers around her goblet. “I can’t imagine it being erotic. It’s painful and awful,” she said. Jared had warned her a real spanking would be different from a play one, but it literally hadn’t hit home until it actually happened. Yet she also remembered the sexual way Jared had touched her afterward. What if she hadn’t rejected his advances? Would he have kissed her and made it all better? Perhaps if she had permitted the physical intimacy in addition to the physical chastisement, it would have made a difference in her feelings now.

Liz shook her head. “Candi is right. Eroticism is part of the package. When you put your body, heart, mind, and soul in your husband’s hands with faith and acceptance, it is so intimate, it can’t help but be erotic. Even if it isn’t arousing at the time, it enhances the overall eroticism of the marriage.”

“You both make it sound so positive.” Melania clasped her hands tightly. Liz and Candi were accomplished, professional women. Normal. And they liked being spanked. She didn’t get it. Even if she could come to tolerate it, she would never want it, never like it.

“It
is
positive.” Candi said. “It’s positive for me. But it’s not for everyone. Some women can’t accept it, can’t surrender control to that degree. But I think if more people practiced it, they’d be happier—women and men both.”

Melania took another sip of wine. She thought she might be one of those women who couldn’t accept domestic discipline, but didn’t want to say so in light of Liz and Candi’s enthusiastic support. They had a right to pursue whatever made them happy. She just couldn’t conceive it would make her happy.

The only thing spanking had done that could remotely be construed as positive was to force her to confront her expectations about her marriage and view it through the lens of a mature woman instead of a starstruck bride. However, Melania wasn’t convinced that was positive. Ignorance had been bliss. She wanted her fairy tale. She wanted her rose-tinted glasses back!

Liz touched Melania’s arm. “It’s a lot to process. What happened today was momentous, and your emotions haven’t had time to catch up. It’s okay to feel out of sorts. One thing spanking has taught me is to move with my emotions rather than fight against them or keep them bottled up.

“Spanking has brought Otis and me so much closer together. We have an intimacy I can’t imagine having without it. And when my life gets hectic and turns me into a jitterbug, it settles my nerves and clears my head.” Liz curved her mouth into a wry smile. “On a few occasions, when I’ve felt especially stressed or short-tempered, I’ve asked Otis to spank me.”

Melania gulped the last of her wine. Even if she could put up with Jared’s discipline, she would never in a million years
ask
for a spanking.

Chapter Five

After pouring snifters of cognac, Jared passed around his humidor. When the two other men completed the ritual of cutting and lighting cigars, they settled into comfortable, companionable silence in Jared’s leather chairs.

At least Otis and Tucker were comfortable. Jared was too keyed up to relax. Unexpected emotions knotted inside like tangled fishing ties. Regret pricked at him. He prided himself on his ability to focus, to set a course of action and follow it. He made a decision. He executed it. He rarely looked back. So he shouldn’t question his actions now. But the more he thought about his wife, the more troubled he became. Self-doubt settled heavily on his chest. He had wanted to talk to Melania privately in the kitchen after dinner to ease his mind, but Liz Davenport inadvertently had prevented that.

With a cognac warming in his palm, a Dominican cigar clamped between his teeth, Jared eyed the spanking bench and pictured his wife draped over it, her tender backside vulnerable, her legs spread wide, her luscious pussy exposed. Despite the ache of regret, his cock hardened. Spanking his wife had stirred him in a primitive, carnal way. That her naked body had aroused him was no surprise; the sight of her always did. It was the depth of desire and the aftermath of emotion, tender and turbulent, that left him feeling as if he’d been he’d been paddled and had his attitude readjusted.

Melania’s obedience humbled him. Yet he sensed her submission was a gift given warily, and that troubled him. He had expected tears, but an underlying tenor to her weeping suggested her pain went deeper than physical discomfort. Her pain had become his; he felt her sobs as if she’d raked her fingernails across his skin.

Obedience was not the same as commitment—and he wanted both. Although his wife had consented to the spanking, she had not been ready, mentally or emotionally. Afterward, her teary hazel eyes had reproached him—when she could bring herself to look at him at all. She’d flinched when he’d touched her. He wanted his wife to respect him and his authority as head of their household, but fear him? Never.

Jared forced himself to relax his tight grip on his brandy. His father-in-law had admitted he hadn’t disciplined Melania the way he should have, but Jared didn’t blame Conner; he directed his anger at himself. As Melania’s husband and protector, he should have ensured she was prepared. Her happiness and well-being came first, and he’d failed her.

Before the wedding, Jared had warned Melania he would rule their home with a loving but firm hand. He thought he had spelled it out clearly. She’d seemed to understand.

He wondered what he could have said or done differently, but he couldn’t change the past; he could only move forward.

Jared forced his gaze from the spanking bench and studied the liquid in his snifter as he swirled the cognac. He puffed on his cigar, sending a stream of smoke into the cloud scenting the room.

Tucker broke the silence. “Nothing like a good cognac and a fine cigar.”

“Not to mention a wonderful meal. Melania’s an excellent cook,” Otis said.

Tucker patted his stomach. “Fantastic. I ate way too much.”

Jared set his brandy on the side table and placed his cigar in the ashtray. “She did a great job. She wanted everything to be special.” Melania had worked damn hard for an entire week. She’d toiled like a workhorse.

Otis sipped his cognac and looked at Jared over the snifter. “So you and Melania have settled in.” The words sounded like a statement, but Jared could hear the question of concern. He thought he’d done a good job of covering his consternation, but Otis knew how to read him. He and the older man had been friends for a long time and became closer after the death of Jared’s parents years ago.

Jared smoothed his palms over the knees of his slacks. “I spanked Melania for the first time about an hour before everyone arrived.”

Otis nodded. “I thought I recognized the signs. She was careful at how she sat in the chair.”

Jared hesitated. Domestic discipline was a personal, intimate matter. Rod and Cane members normally kept the details private, but Jared could use advice from someone more experienced, who had been there. Otis had been a disciplinarian and spankophile for more than forty years. He and Liz had been married for at least twenty-five. If anyone knew how to make a domestic discipline marriage work, Otis did. Even Tucker, who was younger than Jared by nearly a decade, had two years of a domestic discipline marriage under his belt.

“I’ve been second-guessing myself ever since.” Jared sighed. “I don’t regret spanking her. It was justified and appropriate, but Melania was not as conditioned emotionally as I had assumed she was. I wonder if I should have gone a little easier on her.”

“Why didn’t you?” Otis asked.

Jared rubbed his jaw. “Because she didn’t just make a simple mistake or an error in judgment.” Her actions had been premeditatedly sneaky. Jared had a strong hunch Melania had planned to buy the shoes the moment she’d set eyes on them. “Although what she did was minor, her intentions were serious. I felt it was important to set expectations early in the marriage.”

Jared flexed his tense shoulder blades. Although his wife’s behavior disappointed him, he didn’t want the men to judge her harshly. “Melania is young and a little immature, but with proper guidance, she’ll mature into an obedient wife.”