Birthday Bride (7 page)

He
tapped my butt.  “Thought I’d come over and give you something to remember me
by at work today.”  I was instantly wet and my knees went weak at the thought.

“Works
for me,” I breathed, and kissed him deeply, this time with tongue.

   
Mark put his hands on the waistband of my slacks.  “Use the safeword if you
need to.  I don’t want to hurt you, but I want you to feel it later today.”  My
husband went on to tell me that he did research last night, and learned some
tips to make it happen without bruising.  I didn’t know if I dared tell him I
did similar research, just of the hands–(or rather,
brush
) on kind.

He
started to unbutton my pants, and I stopped him.  “In the bedroom, on my
dresser, is a bath brush I played with last night.  If I go get it, will you
mind us trying it?  It’d leave a nice lasting impression.”

Mark
kissed me again, and shoved his hands down my slacks and squeezed my buttocks
tightly.  I moaned into his mouth and ground my hips against his.  I wanted him. 
Now.  He turned me around and pushed me over the back of the couch, slacks and
panties down around my ankles.  “Don’t move a muscle.  Or else.”

He
quickly strode into my bedroom, so yeah, I moved.  Turned on or not, I still
had to go to work later.  I stepped out of my pants, and laid them over the
couch a few feet away.  I slipped my blouse over my head as well, and laid it
on top.  I already ironed once this morning, and didn’t want to do it again.

I
heard Mark’s footsteps halt when he came back into the living room, and he
exhaled loudly.  “You can’t imagine how much I want to give you a good whack
right now, without warm-up, for moving when I told you not to.”

I
tossed caution to the wind.  “So do it.”

He
didn’t hesitate.  WHACK!  The sound echoed around the room before the pain set
in.  “Holy… the fires of hell are on my butt!”  I grabbed the sit spot that
Mark had walloped, and danced around the room.  “Stop laughing!  Ow! Goodness gracious
that hurts!”

Mark
was sitting on the ground, he was laughing so hard.  He grabbed my leg when I
danced near, pulled me close to him, and kissed my rear end.  “There, does that
make it better?”

“No!” 
I laughed and cried at the same time.  “Okay, never again!  Ow!”  I plopped
down onto his lap, making him have to scramble to catch me in time.  “How about
we just kiss some more?”

My
husband obliged, and we made out for a few more minutes while my butt settled
down to a low throb.

I
broke off the kiss, and bit my lip and looked up at Mark.  “I’m ready for my
spanking now.”

“What–really?”

I
nodded.  I wanted this.  I wanted to have it to remember for the day, both
physically and mentally.  At this point, emotionally, too.

He
lifted me up to my feet, and I retook my position over the back of the couch
while Mark reclaimed the bath brush.  He put his left hand on the small of my
back, and rubbed the slick wood against my rear.  The spanks started light,
like I had figured out last night and Mark would have found in his research.  After
several dozen swats to warm up the entire area, he started the spanking in
earnest.

Heavy
swats intermixed in with light, with the majority being medium.  He varied
them, and I never knew how hard one would be, or where.  My sit spot was a
favorite target, and each spank rekindled the memory of the punishment swat.  Fire
flamed from the top of my buttocks down to the top of my thighs.  Sitting wasn’t
going to be a pleasant endeavor, at all.  It hurt, but felt so good.

Mark
paused, and I braced myself, expecting a huge wallop to come.  Instead, he put
the tip of his penis in my sex, grabbed my shoulders, and eased himself in.  I
let out a shuddering gasp as his length entered me.  He held on tight as he
pulled out and pushed back in, increasing the speed.  Each full insertion was
met with the slap of flesh against flesh, the sensations of the well-spanked
skin adding to my pleasure.  We came in unison, my husband collapsing on top of
me.

After
taking a minute to recover a bit, Mark pulled out, my knees giving way when he
did so.  He scooped me up and went to lie down on the couch, actually using the
piece of furniture for its intended purpose.  I lay on top of him, stretched
out.  He had one hand on my breast, the other massaging my bum.

“I
think I’ll call in sick,” I told him, stretching my head up to kiss him.

   
He kissed me back, but swatted my butt.  “No days off.  Today is supposed to be
a normal day.  We’re testing whether we should be together or not.”

I
snorted.  “Yeah, like screwing me over the back of the couch is normal.”

He
had the sense to look abashed.  “Well, I meant to just give you a spanking to
dwell on all day.  But, your butt’s rather attractive, and I couldn’t resist.” 
I kissed him for the compliment.

“So
I have to go to work,” I pouted.

“Unless
you want to go over the back of the couch again.”

I
hesitated.  Which part did he mean?

“Wow,
you had to think about it?  I didn’t do my job right.”  He shifted underneath
me so that he was in a seated position, and I was over his lap.  He grabbed the
bath brush from the coffee table, and didn’t bother with warm-ups this time.

“Ow! 
Okay!  I’ll go to work!”  It hurt, but I still giggled.

“Giggling? 
Really?”

Everything
up to now paled in comparison to what Mark unleashed.  Words took too much
breath; I was too shocked to breathe in.  The flat thud sound of the solid wood
hitting my rear echoed in the room.  Or maybe it wasn’t an echo – maybe he
really was spanking that quickly.  The stinging set in, and the fire blazed the
trail Mark followed.  From the upper thigh to the top of a cheek, then down the
other side.  Special attention was paid to the tender area between my buttocks
and thighs, and I doubted I’d be able to sit down all day.

I
was about to use my safe word when Mark stopped, flipped me over, and held me
tight.  He stroked my hair with one hand, and my rear with the other.

“Can
we make love now?” My voice rasped.

“No.” 
I nudged his rather large erection with my hip.  “Yeah, I know.  Self-discipline. 
Come to my place after work, and you can come.”

I
closed my eyes and sighed.  “I hate you.”

He
gave me a quick kiss on the lips.  “Right back at ya.”

*****

“You
look well loved,” Jackie said as I finally made it into the office, 15 minutes
late.

I
blushed, and slipped into the chair in her office without thinking.  Youch!  “I’m
sorry, Jackie, for abandoning you during your weekend bachelorette party.”

She
waved a hand in forgiveness.  “No worries.  I was expecting the weekend to be
crazy.  That’s why I did it a week before my wedding.”

“Still,
I’m sorry.”

“Don’t
be!  You’re married!  Be happy!”

I
smiled at her, and went next door to my office.  I wasn’t sure I was happy.  The
last spanking had left me more sexually frustrated than I had been in 29 years
of celibacy.  I wanted Mark, badly.  The spanking had left his–and my, to be
honest–desired impression, as I couldn’t sit down without squirming.  I liked
it.  A lot.  Enough so it was difficult to concentrate on the college
applications in front of me.

A
tentative knock sounded at my door, and I looked up as Glennys entered.  I wasn’t
sure whether to glare at her or thank her.

“I’m
sorry,” she said right away.  “I shouldn’t have gotten you married without your
knowledge.  You’re paying the price for my actions, and I’m sorry.”  She
lowered herself gingerly into my visitor’s chair.  “I’m paying too,” she
muttered under her breath.

I
hid a smile in my hand.  I had a feeling of what price she paid, and my butt
tingled in shared misery.

“Anyway,
here are the documents to fill out to get a divorce or annulment.  I don’t know
which you prefer, so I wanted to get you both.  Since I took the liberty of
getting you married, I took the liberty of filling out the documents for you.  All
you and Mark have to do is sign.”  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.  “Knowing,
this time, what you’re signing.”

I
still didn’t know what to say to her.  Thank you for giving me great sex and
spankings?  How dare you get me spanked?  Glennys apologized again, and left,
without me saying a word.

How
could I have known what to say to her when I hadn’t even decided what I wanted
to do?  On one hand, I had filled-out divorce papers sitting on the corner of
my desk.  On the other–well, I had where Mark’s hand had met my bottom.

We
were both of a like mind, and really clicked well.  He liked giving spankings,
and I liked receiving them.  For spankings, we were both each other’s first–he had
sex previously, but not since returning stateside.  He wanted to be a One Woman
Man.  I wanted that, too.

He
didn’t want to hurt me, and I didn’t want to be hurt.  Our limits were about
the same, and we were both open to experimenting safely.  I didn’t like the
concept of punishment spankings, and Mark wasn’t a fan of giving them.  Joking
ones, though, like from when I tickled his foot, were totally okay.  Other than
this morning–I squeezed my thighs together thinking of it–we planned on having
the spanking be foreplay, and not the fulfillment of the... act.

However,
we didn’t know much of each other past our kink.  I didn’t know his favorite
color, and why he chose to join the military.  Heck, I didn’t know if he wanted
to be deployed again.  Did I want to be married to someone who could go away
for so long?

The
day ended up passing by quickly.  We had taken a half-day off on Friday to
drive to Vegas, and getting through my backlog kept me busy.  My rear end had
stopped smarting around lunch time, and I took a break to go over to one of the
academic buildings where I knew there was a single person lockable faculty restroom. 
I stood on the stool in the bathroom to examine my butt in the mirror; no
redness anymore.

Four
o’clock finally came around, and I tossed the paperwork on the passenger seat
of my car and followed the scribbled down directions that Mark had provided me. 
The traffic wasn’t too bad, for once, and I made good time heading west towards
the ocean.

His
adobe ranch house was in an older development, backing up to the mountains and
Camp Pendleton.  Conveniently located, I thought.  I parked in the street, grabbed
the papers, and got out of my car.

I
paused at the trunk of my sedan, and looked at the Jimmy parked in the driveway. 
More specifically, I looked at the tailgate.  And remembered.  My mind was now
made up.

Glancing
around, I saw a storm drain. 
Eh, paper is biodegradable
, I thought, and
tossed the applications down to the dolphins.

Mark met me at the door
with a chaste (for us, at least) kiss.  He guided me over to the couch in the
sunken living room, and we sat down.

“
There’s
something–”

“I
have something–”

We
laughed, and I motioned to him with a sinking feeling.  He wanted a divorce.  Just
when I decided the other way. 
But I want to be married!
I screamed in
my head.  “Go ahead,” I told him, much more rationally.

He got down on one knee,
and pulled a ring out of his pocket.  “Abby, the past few days have been
amazing.  I’ve loved spending time with you, and having you spend time over my
knee.”  He chuckled, and I joined in through the tears that had sprung up.  “I’m
falling in love with you, and want to fall more in love with you every day
until we grow old and gray.  Abigail Sandborn, as of 11:42 pm last Friday
night, would you marry me?”

“Yes,”
I told him, and pulled him into my arms for a long, deep kiss.

“What
were you going to say?” Mark asked when we came up for air.

I
looked at him shyly.  “I was going to tell you what I did with the paperwork
Glennys gave me.”  At his raised eyebrow, I continued.  “I threw them down the
storm drain.”

His
eyes gleamed with realization of my unasked question.  “Why you naughty girl
you.”  He reached for my waistband.  “You know what happens to naughty girls....”

The (well spanked) End