“See, here’s the thing. I was more than willing to take a break. Aside from your temper, I’ve never had to worry much about you, and I figured I could trust you enough to keep yourself under control, and remember the heart of why we do this. But now, now you’re disobedient, you’re not living up to your responsibilities, you’re rude and belligerent, and you seem to enjoy throwing it in my face that I can’t spank you for it. The way I see it, you’ve been begging me to do just that.”
Ginger bit her lip, chewing it absently as she pondered his words. Is that what she had been doing? Shame rose up in her cheeks as she remembered her harsh words and defiant actions. It was just yesterday, but it seemed so long ago now. Nothing to put things in perspective like a first thing in the morning trip over your husband’s knee, she mused.
“Is that what you’ve been doing Ginger? Have you been begging for a spanking?”
She didn’t reply, still wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn’t even realize he was asking her a question, until his hand stopped rubbing and came cracking down on her backside with all the force of a paddle. Damn, she had forgotten how hard his hands could be.
“Answer me, woman.” His hand went back, poised for impact, and she squeaked out her answer, bracing herself for the blow.
“No, I wasn’t, I wasn’t!” It didn’t seem to be the answer he was looking for, as his hand connected with her aching backside.
“Okay, okay, maybe I was! But, it wasn’t conscious!”
At her admission, his hand stilled, coming down softly to rest on her back. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me, whose idea was it do domestic discipline?”
Ginger sighed. “Mine, Sir”
“And, whose idea was it to move to Corbin’s Bend?”
She could see where this was going, and it didn’t bode well for her. “Mine, Sir”
“Mmm-hmm” His finger pumped inside her, in and out of her tight hole. She clenched around it, hoping for relief, but he just pumped harder. “Whose idea was it to take a break, from any and all punishments, against the advice of our friends and mentors?”
“It was my idea.” Her voice sounded empty, even to her.
The pumping stopped, but the spanking began in earnest. His hand flattened against her bottom, again and again, peppering both cheeks with sharp swats, one after another, with no pause between. Dd may have been her idea, but damn, the man could spank.
“It seems to me,” he began, concentrating on reddening the crease between her thighs and bottom cheeks, “that we’ve been doing things your way for much too long. I’ve let you be in charge of everything, even this.”
He paused, letting his words sink in. Ginger fought back tears against the pain of the spanking and the truthfulness of his lecture. She had even controlled the way he took control. Shame filled her and the tears fell hot against her cheeks.
“I think,” he continued, his tone decisive, “that it’s time we started doing things my way.”