Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
For a moment I thought I would escape. I even started, for a microsecond, to picture myself bursting out the front door and running down the street. The horrifying thought that the neighbors in this lovely subdivision might well stop me and return me to my husband for punishment rose to my mind and drew a sob from my chest, but fight-or-flight took hold and made me try it anyway.
I didn’t even get my arm free. Rick pulled me in closer and turned me back toward the bedroom door.
“Stop it! Ricky, goddammit! This isn’t going to happen!”
I heard those words come from my own mouth. I felt the tension inside me rise with their defiant sound, the anticipation of how my older husband would respond to them.
My mind, the core of me, as if observing from somewhere else said, Brat. You lied about being hungry. You lied because you didn’t want to fulfill your duties in the bedroom.
He had me through the doorway, and he manhandled me toward the huge bed with its luxurious comforter, beautifully contained in a cream-colored cover. A distant part of me swooned at the very idea that I could live in a home like this one, with such nice things.
I had no notion, really, of how I could think that when my husband was propelling me toward the lovely bed with the intention of teaching me an old-fashioned lesson for my bratty attitude. Somehow, though, I kept thinking through it all that Rick had an incredible opportunity here, which meant I had an incredible opportunity here… that this position Rick wanted to make a little clearer to me, as shameful as it seemed, also involved luxury.
The kind of luxury a man like Rick deserves, for his… for his confidence, his resolve…
I let out a sob from the bottom of my chest as my husband pushed me down over the edge of the beautiful bed.
His dominance.
“Get on your elbows,” Rick growled. “I’m going to spank you until you’re ready to get undressed for your whipping.”
Somewhere in my head there seemed still to exist a cool, rational voice. Despite the insane circumstances—at least as that logical part of my mind judged the situation—I could hear it speaking calmly. I knew by now that I would never be able to do a single thing it told me I should, as intelligent as its advice might prove. Bizarrely enough, however, its words played in my thoughts like a steady crawl of local news under a video of valiant firemen trying to tame a wildfire.
You have absolutely no choice, the rational voice told me. You should do what Rick says, and give him whatever he wants. Then you should wait until he’s asleep, because men always fall asleep after… that. Then you should run, even if you decide not to try anything really drastic, like tying him up so that you’re sure to have a head start.
So I should have just submissively lowered myself to my elbows. I should have said, Sir, I’ll take off my clothes now, then, Sir, I’m sorry, and even, Sir, I know you have to whip me.
The thought of saying those things, more than anything else, drove away every possibility that I might follow the advice of the logical voice. Not because they seemed repugnant to me, though they did, at least at the level of rationality.
No, I kept struggling against my husband’s attempts to bend me over the bed and spank me because of my body’s reaction to all of it. Because of the mortifying thrill that went through my limbs, centering between my legs, when I thought of saying Sir, I know you have to whip me.
I tried to stand up, but Rick had already started to punish me. His big hand smacked my bottom very hard—even harder than at the airport, it seemed to me. He pressed on my shoulders as I cried out in surprise and discomfort, and he spanked me again.
“On… your… elbows,” he growled, continuing to spank me as, wedged between his strong body and the side of the bed, I kept trying to straighten up and twist away.
You can still give in, the calm voice said. If you make him angrier, he’s just going to whip you harder.
Again, the unwelcome jolt of need went through me, making my hips jerk. Rick spanked me again, and my shameful arousal, along with his relentless physical power, forced me over, my right hand splayed out at full length and my left elbow under me. My bottom had started to burn like fire, but a wildness had started to build in me. I kept trying to twist away even with my strength once again nearly gone.
Rick kept his left hand firmly on my back, to make sure I didn’t get up, but he stopped spanking me.