His Firm Hand (17 page)

Michele squinted her eyes. “I thought this story was going to revolve around a holiday, but so far, there’s no mention of one.”

“Be patient, my sweet, I’m just trying to develop the characters for you.”

“Sorry,” she said with a smile, wiggling under the covers.

“Are you having trouble getting comfortable? You’re awfully squirmy tonight.”

“No, sir,” she said, quickly pulling the comforter up to her chin.

“You seem so fidgety. Did you eat too much chocolate after dinner?”

Michele bit her lip and inhaled a quick breath. “Nope, I’m fine.”

“Sweetie, are you paying attention to me, or are you busy concentrating on something else?” Paul asked as his mouth formed a crooked smile.

Under the sheet, Michele’s hardened nipple was being grazed by the tip of her thumbnail as the pointer finger on her other hand slid up and down a slick seam just inside the pajama bottoms. “What happened? Why did you stop telling the story, daddy?”

“It seems you have your own tale going on right now,” Paul said. “And I’ll bet it’s a good one. Care to share with me?”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“If you’re being naughty under those covers, you better not lie to me, young lady,” he warned in a stern tone.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about,” she admitted with an embarrassed face. “I’m standing in the corner being spanked and fucked at the same time. My tushy is very red and hot.” Her voice was breathless as she rapidly circled her hard, swollen flesh.

“Mmm, and who’s starring in this kinky little fantasy of yours?”

“
We
are, silly,” she said, giggling. “I know it’s only Thursday, but can the rules be altered tonight? After all, it is a holiday.”

He pulled the puffy white comforter off of his wife and unbuttoned the first two buttons on the top of her flannel pajamas. His finger and thumb instantly went into motion, tweaking her taut nipple harder and harder as his other hand roughly shucked her pajama bottoms down, one side at a time. Paul’s head lowered, and with firm strokes, his broad tongue took over, licking up and down the inside of her saturated, swollen pussy. As her body writhed and trembled, he washed his tongue over her hard bud and closed his lips around it, sucking tenderly. Finally, with an abrupt force, her hips lifted off the bed, vibrating as her pussy throbbed and pulsed.

Slowly, her body’s tension released and she settled back down onto the firm mattress. Her heart was still thumping as her husband brushed his lips over hers. “Are you angry with me?” she whispered, still a little out of breath.

“I ought to lower that bare bottom of yours over my knees right now and see if we can achieve the same color it was in your little fantasy,” Paul muttered as he undressed and got into bed.

“I didn’t eat the chocolate-covered pretzels tonight. Would it be alright if I have something sweet and salty now?” she asked seductively, feeling his stiff cock pressed against her back.

He turned her and nodded as Michele’s lips eagerly kissed their way down his chest. Stopping at his belly, she softly rubbed her nose onto his skin.

“It’s unbelievable what your scent does to me,” she purred, inhaling his natural musky essence.

“I can’t think of a happier ending to a Thanksgiving story,” he deadpanned as her tongue lightly licked the velvety rim of his cock.

Chapter Eighteen

“Where did you say we were going, daddy-o?” Michele asked as she put on her red fingerless gloves.

“Daddy-o? It looks like someone has been busy watching TV shows from the 1960s,” Paul responded with a chuckle. “And to answer your question, I didn’t say, kitten. It’s a surprise.”

“You never tell me anything!” Michele complained as she stomped her foot.

Paul took one step backward. “You know darn well what position that fancy footwork will get you in. Now, you can put on a jacket or slide down your pants for a good old-fashioned spanking. The choice is yours, so which will it be?”

Michele huffed as she reached for her short puffy brown jacket and followed Paul out the front door. “Why are we taking the big car and not the Miata?”

Paul flicked his key fob to unlock the doors to the car. “We’ll probably need the extra room for our return trip.”

“Are we going shopping?”

He laughed. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” Paul glanced to make sure Michele’s seatbelt was on as he made a right turn out of the driveway.

“Do they have a bathroom where we’re going?”

“Oh, my God, do I still have to remind you to take care of business before we leave the house?”

Michele shrugged and turned the volume up on the radio. “I guess the music will take my mind off of things,” she answered, crossing her legs dramatically.

Ten minutes later, Paul pulled into the Scott nursery. “Why are you stopping here?” Michele’s eyebrows knit together with confusion.

“We’re going to pick out a Christmas tree.”

“But we already have a tree at home.”

Paul puffed his cheeks in exasperation. “I thought we would get a live tree this year and plant it in the backyard after the holidays.”

“You look like a blowfish when you make that face.” Michele’s eyes rolled as she slumped down in the seat.

“I wouldn’t move around too much, princess. Remember, you have a full bladder,” he joked as he opened the car door for her.

“Daddy, if you don’t like the tree we own, we can always buy another one. I just saw a white version on QVC yesterday. All the lights and ornaments are already in place, and it’s available in three easy payments—”

“I’m seriously considering installing parental controls on our television.” He paused for a minute, obviously pondering the thought. “Come on, humor me. Think about how depressing it always is after the holidays when we put our artificial tree in the attic. I just thought it would be nice to plant a tree to keep the memories of this year’s holiday alive.”

For the next half hour they strolled up and down the aisles of the nursery. “My God, they have so many to pick from,” Michele observed.

“Have you seen any you like?”

“Yeah, I guess. But what’s up with the ball of dirt on the bottom?”

Paul stopped to examine one particular tree. “It makes it easier to transplant, kiddo.”

“But how are we going to get it into the house? It’s going to take a small army to move this thing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve arranged for some help when we get home. But to be on the safe side, let’s keep its size on the small end.”

“Okay, how about that one?” Michele pointed to the four-foot fir on the end of the row. “It’s really pretty and not too big.”

“Seems like a good choice. I’ll get one of the kids to load it into our trunk.”

Paul and Michele stood by the car as they watched three young boys, all about sixteen years of age, wrestle with the tree to fit it in the trunk of the car before tying it down. “Having second thoughts, are we?” Michele asked, noticing the look of concern on Paul’s face.

Paul’s expression was obviously strained. “Nope.”

“I hope they have a bathroom here,” Michele muttered, gritting her teeth.

Paul motioned to his left and smiled. “I think there’s one over in that direction, Michele. I’ll get the car started, so meet me in the lot when you’re finished.”

* * *

“Why is Glen’s car here?” Michele asked as they pulled into their own driveway.

“I asked Glen and Denise to come over and help with the tree. After it’s in place, we can drink hot chocolate while we trim it. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Sure, sounds great!”

Glen and Denise waved, exiting their car as he parked directly behind them. “We did it! You’re looking at the proud owners of a live tree!” Paul exclaimed as he closed the car door.

“I see that,” Glen said, eyeing the tree. “Ah, how much does that thing weigh?”

Michele elbowed Denise. “I hope you brought a back brace for your boyfriend. It took ten minutes for three young strapping kids to get this wedged into the trunk.”

Paul crossed his arms. “Okay, we’re obviously in need for someone to take charge, so I volunteer.”

“Imagine that,” Michele deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

“Denise and Glen will help me liberate the tree from the trunk. Michelie, please bring us the red wagon from the garage.”

Everyone’s eyes rolled as they saluted.

“How in the hell did they get this thing in here?” Denise groaned through clenched teeth, struggling with the others to free the tree from the trunk.

Sweat dripped down Paul’s red face as he grabbed the base of the tree, while Denise and Glen pulled from the other end. “I think it moved!” he yelled with encouragement.

Meanwhile Michele walked down the driveway with the wagon in tow. “I see you’ve made a lot of headway in the few minutes I was gone.”

Denise turned to her. “Hey, grab on, princess, we need more muscle.”

Michele wedged herself in between Denise and Glen, grabbed onto a branch, and pulled. “Almost there!” Paul screamed. “Just a little bit more.”

The four of them continued to push and pull, and then with a final burst of effort, the tree was finally freed from the car and fell with a thud onto the pavement.

“Now let’s get it into the wagon,” Paul ordered. “On the count of three, we’ll all lift. One… two… three!”

Grunts and groans were heard in unison.

“There, we did it! The hard part is over,” Paul said with pride, wiping his forehead. “I’ll pull this into the house. Glen, could you push it from behind?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

* * *

“Thank goodness we didn’t have to move this up a flight of stairs; it must weigh two hundred pounds.” Michele reached underneath the tree and poured water into the tub. “And you’re on your own when it comes time to dig a hole in the backyard.”

“Don’t worry, my personal elf assistant agreed to help.”

“Is he talking about me?” Glen looked around in bewilderment.

Paul chuckled. “Who’s going to make the hot chocolate while we bring down ornaments from the attic?”

“Denise and I will. I’ve washed my hands, so no more heavy lifting for me,” Michele stated, showing her clean hands.

“What an honor. I’ve been promoted to elf status,” Glen murmured.

“Head elf, if it makes a difference,” Paul announced, tilting his head to the side.

Several minutes later, Denise and Michele returned with four mugs of steaming hot chocolate. “Fresh out of the microwave,” Michele bragged, setting down the tray on the coffee table.

Paul’s head was deep into the box full of ornaments, as he systematically pulled each one out and laid it in the exact order to be placed on the tree.

Michele turned to Denise. “Watch closely. You’re not going to believe this.”

“Believe what?”

“If you video this on your smart phone, it has a good chance of going viral on YouTube.”

“The icicles have to go on first,” Paul instructed, obviously ignoring Michele’s comment. “Watch carefully and let me show you how.” Paul pulled out one icicle and gently hung it from a branch. “Everyone understand? It’s important that they’re placed strategically.”

Glen, Denise, and Michele all grabbed a few strands and began to throw them randomly onto the tree.

“No, no, no!” Paul screeched. “Let me show you again… they need to be placed individually.”

Michele looked at Denise. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

Carefully, she pulled out one strand and crossed her eyes while laying it gently on a branch.

“That’s the way, kitten,” Paul said, standing back from the tree to observe. “Did you guys see how Michele did that? Okay, I’m going to bring out the lights now. They go on next.”

“Is he like this every year?” Glen whispered to Michele.

“It’s a ritual. He told me that his dad was the same way. Everything is done in an exact manner. You can’t mess with the system,” Michele said, dramatically forming air quotes.

Paul pulled the string of lights out of the box. “Why are they all tangled up?” The wires dangled from his hands as his mouth contorted. “Michele, didn’t I ask you to wrap these up properly last year, so we wouldn’t have this problem? It looks like they were stuffed haphazardly in the box!”

“Oops. Sorry, daddy.” Casually sipping her hot chocolate, Michele looked in the other direction in an attempt to avoid eye contact with Paul.

“Okay, since you’re the one that created this mess, I think you should be the one to untangle it, young lady.”

“I’m sensing someone’s butt is going to be in trouble later,” Denise mumbled to Glen under her breath.

Michele gave her sister the finger as she edged her way across the room toward her husband.

Paul arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to be working late tonight, but consider the mental note made.”

Sitting down on the carpeted floor, she meticulously went about her task to unravel the wired mess. “When you’re done, Michelie, plug the lights in and test them to see if they all work,” Paul advised. “And while she’s busy with the lights, could you guys help unpack the ornaments?” he asked Denise and Glen. After a while, Paul returned to look over Michele’s shoulder and check on her progress. “How’s it going, sweetie?”

“I’m almost done.” She looked up and smiled. “Those two are tested and ready to go. I had to replace a couple of bulbs.”

“Good job. Now everyone observe, because there is a correct way to do this.” Paul grabbed a strand of lights and carefully began to place each one in a symmetric pattern on the tree. Several times he retreated from the tree to appraise his own progress. “Okay, Michele and Denise can start hanging ornaments on the bottom. Make sure they’re spaced out evenly, please.”

“Michele, don’t you find it interesting that he’s a psychiatrist? He’s so…
obsessive
,” Denise whispered with a hand cupped over her mouth.

“I’ve often thought the same thing. Wouldn’t that make a great title for a book?
The Obsessive Psychiatrist
.”

The two of them rolled on the floor in a fit of laughter.