His Firm Hand (3 page)

Michele held up one hand to stop her. “Marsha, please. I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

“Sorry,” she whispered through a lopsided smile. “So, what kind of role play are you talking about?”

“Paul wants me to play the part of a teenager.”

“Why in God’s name would he want that? I live with teenagers, and they can be really annoying.”

“On top of our original DD arrangement, just imagine the additional rules and punishment opportunities,” Michele said, crossing her arms and leaning back into the chair.

“He is a psychiatrist, so it might go deeper. Paul certainly has the capability to travel that route.”

Michele nodded thoughtfully. “Especially since I’ve been extremely stressed lately with school back in session. He probably thinks acting out some of my frustrations might alleviate other emotional pressures. And who is more dramatic than a teenager?”

“Hmm.” Marsha contemplated the possibilities and leaned forward. “It sounds kind of kinky, too.” She tilted her head and smiled. “So why the unhappy face? I’m sure he wouldn’t expect you to indulge unless you were on board with this. Did you agree?”

“I did agree. And just for the record—I’m nervous, not unhappy. There’s a difference.”

“Of course there is.” Marsha grinned and patted Michele’s arm. “Hold your next thought, here comes our breakfast.”

After their steaming, full plates were served, Michele eagerly picked up a crispy slice of bacon while Marsha’s eyes stared a hole through her.

“What?” Michele innocently asked while savoring the smoky flavor.

“For God’s sake. You know I want details. Did this kinky new lifestyle of yours begin yet?”

“Yeah, it started.” Michele’s face blushed red at the thought as she wiped her hands on a napkin.

“Well? You can’t bring this up and not share details, missy!”

Michele lifted a piece of buttered toast. “Jesus. I really intended to share more with you. But it’s just too damn embarrassing.” Her face radiated with heat.

Marsha took a sip of her coffee. “I’ll bet if you teased Paul like this, your backside would be draped over his knee.”

“Bare backside,” she corrected casually, reaching for the basket of assorted jams.

* * *

It was around noon the next day when Michele’s car pulled into their garage. Paul stood at the door with his arms crossed, waiting for her to walk into their kitchen.

“Hey, I didn’t expect you to be home so soon. How was your golf game today? Was it better than yesterday? Do you owe Kurls more money?” The questions quickly spilled from her mouth one after another as she stood with a few grocery bags in hand.

“I decided to come straight home instead of socializing in the men’s grill room.”

“But you love to have a beer with the guys after a game of Sunday morning golf.”

“And I intended to when I left the house this morning, but changed my mind when I ran into Kevin Sippora. You remember him,
Dr.
Kevin Sippora?”

“Yes, I know who he is,” Michele answered sheepishly, but then changed her tone. “Hey, whatever happened to a little thing called patient confidentiality?”

“Kevin just wanted to know how you were, since you didn’t keep your appointment with him yesterday. It seems you were running a high fever that came on suddenly, which is why you cancelled at the last minute. Of course, he isn’t going to charge you for not observing the twenty-four-hour cancellation policy since you were so ill,” he said sarcastically, inclining his head toward her.

After backing up, she quickly turned to place the grocery bags on the counter.

“I’m waiting.” His tone was stern but eerily soft.

“I’m sorry, Paul. I know all about the cancellation policy and how much it disrupts the doctor’s schedule when patients don’t adhere to the rules, b-but I—”

“Take your time, kitten. I can’t wait to hear the latest excuse of why you cancelled your yearly exam with the gynecologist.” Paul stared at the ceiling as he placed his hands in his pockets. “If you don’t like him, we certainly can find another doctor.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, turning around. “He’s very nice and I’m comfortable with him.”

“Is it because he belongs to the same golf club we do? You understand we’re not friends—only acquaintances. Unfortunately, I have contact with a lot of physicians in this town.”

“I don’t mind that you know him.”

“What’s the problem then? We seem to go through this every year and you know how important your gynecological exam is.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She pivoted to open the refrigerator door, but Paul stopped her.

“This conversation is not over. You need to have that exam, and I want to know why you lied about not going.”

Michele shrugged her slight shoulders. Even though they weren’t role playing, Paul knew she often felt like a little girl when he scolded her.

“Out with it,” he insisted.

“Fine. The exam is embarrassing, no matter which doctor performs it. Especially the last part. It’s the worst.” She rolled her eyes and covered her reddened face with both hands.

“Are you talking about the rectal exam, sweetie?”

She nodded and squinted her eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling his wife close to whisper in her ear. “I understand why that’s so embarrassing, but since you’ve lied and been secretive about something that’s so important to your health, I promise your yearly exam won’t compare to what I have planned for you.” His eyes glittered as he raised his finger and pointed upward. “March your little fanny upstairs and into our bedroom.” After performing a quick swivel to her body, he applied his hard palm to her soft bottom. “Now.”

* * *

Michele walked into their bedroom and blinked twice. The bed had been stripped of the puffy duvet and their colorful sheets had been replaced with a brand new, crisp white one. Strategically placed on top of the tightly fitted fabric was a disposable square sheet of blue plastic. Staring in disbelief across the room, she saw their end table that once held her Kindle and a night lamp now displayed a box of latex gloves and large jar of lubricant with a rectal thermometer sticking out in the middle of it. With her mind reeling, she didn’t hear Paul quietly approach her from behind.

“Take all your clothes off and put this on. I want it open in the back,” Paul instructed, holding a short blue cotton dressing gown with a paisley print.

“You can’t be serious.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“Never mind, I see that you are,” she deadpanned.

After grabbing the flimsy-looking gown, she unbuttoned and slid her jeans down before stepping out of them. Bending over, she made sure her husband had a good view of her bottom and seductively wiggled it before placing the pants on the chair beside the bed.

Paul stood motionless, watching his wife take off her shirt and bra as he patiently waited for her to slip into the light blue gown.

“Where in the hell did you get this stunning
schmata
? Used Gowns R Us?” Her blue eyes rolled as her hind end felt a cool breeze wafting down from the ceiling fan.

“Turn around, please.”

Michele swiveled and closed her eyes as Paul’s large palm cracked loudly across her soft backside. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Maybe I wasn’t clear when I asked for
all
your clothes to come off. Slide. Those. Panties. Down,” he said, enunciating each word slowly. “Then you can make yourself comfortable on the bed raising your bottom nice and high for me. I’m going to take your temperature.”

“Jesus,” she growled.

“Excuse me? Do you really think this is a good time for sass, young lady?”

“No, sir,” she mumbled, lowering her panties before getting into the embarrassing position on the bed.

Paul rubbed and patted her backside. “I’m going to tan your hide good and red for canceling your appointment and lying to Dr. Sippora’s receptionist. But that will come later.”

“I can hardly wait,” Michele said facetiously under her breath, raising her ass high in the air before turning her warm cheek onto the covered mattress. She really had more to say, but decided he’d probably heard enough as she watched him walk over to the night table to prepare the thermometer.

“You might want to lose the attitude,” Paul suggested as he approached with the dreaded implement that was about to invade her rectum.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Do I need to remind you that adults don’t have their temperature taken this way?”

“I did go to medical school and am well aware of the proper way to take a temperature. But since you acted like a baby, I’ve decided to treat you like one. Now, let’s see if you really do have a fever, shall we?”

“Oohh!” Michele squealed and squirmed as the slick, cool bulbous tip of the thermometer slid into her anus effortlessly, followed by the rest of the slippery glass sliding in slow and deep. There was no pain involved, but the embarrassment of having her temperature taken rectally by her husband made it difficult for her body to remain in position.

Paul held the thermometer with one hand and stilled her bottom with the other. “Try to relax. It will only be in for a few more minutes,” he promised, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Michele softly moaned, but didn’t utter a word. She knew he was driving a point home and decided not to make it worse for herself.

When Paul finally slid the warm, wet instrument out of her backside, she sighed. “Is it normal?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“Yep. As I suspected, there isn’t a thing wrong with you.”

Michele started to move off the bed, but Paul immediately placed his heavy hand on her lower back. “Stay put. I’m not finished yet,” he instructed quietly before wiping the thermometer off with an alcohol swab. She turned her head to see what he was up to and grimaced as she watched him pull a latex glove from the box. In seconds, he was wearing it and generously lubing his finger.

“I don’t believe this is happening—”

“Turn your head and keep your bottom up.” When she complied, he slid his finger into her tight little hole all the way up to his knuckle.

“Not so deep,” Michele whined.

“Shush,” Paul said sternly. “Would you rather I insert a plug?” As he pulled his finger out and roughly pushed it back into her anus, her groan was loud and dramatic.

“Oh, my God, you own one?” she asked, whimpering.

“I certainly do,” Paul stated proudly, moving his finger in and out with a steady rhythm. “In fact, I own three. Would you like to try one on for size, or are you going to behave?”

“I’ll behave,” she grumbled.

Paul removed his finger and took off the glove. “Good, and now for that sound spanking I promised you.” And with those final words, she felt his strong hand volley back and forth to each wobbly, fleshy side, creating a familiar red-hot burn.

“Ouch! Please, Paul. I promise not to do that again. Ouch! I promise!” she yelled as her small fist pounded the mattress to accentuate every spoken word.

He squeezed each soft pillow of her delicate bottom in his hands. “You will call Dr. Sippora’s office tomorrow morning before school and reschedule. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, turning to look at him through tear-filled eyes. Though Michele knew she was being disciplined, it wasn’t a surprise when Paul’s hand glided up and down her hot, blotchy bottom, firmly patting and rubbing it.

“You’re soaking wet,” he said soothingly as his fingers traveled from her backside to stroke her swollen pussy. “What am I going to do with you?”

She swallowed hard in an attempt to fight back the tears. “Well, since it is Sunday, we aren’t technically in an age-play mode, right?”

“We both know I can’t resist that gorgeous red ass of yours up in the air, but I want to see your beautiful face when I fuck you senseless.” With a gentle, but firm hand, he rolled his wife onto her back and paused, waiting for her eyes to open. His warm lips softly connected with hers as he cupped and lifted her soft bottom before positioning his seeping cock at the entrance of her pussy. His mouth lowered onto hers once again, devouring her lips with a sensuous kiss as he pushed his hardened length further inside, stretching her warm, tight passage.

“Oh, my God, Paul. Fuck me harder.”

“Do you want my finger in your tushy? Your little rosebud is still lubricated back here.”

“Yes,” she admitted with a raspy voice. “But just with the tip of your finger. Only the tip, please,” she requested respectfully.

He firmly tapped the pad of his slippery finger onto her small lubricated hole, peering into her hungry eyes as he drove his thick, hard cock deep into the hot, swollen lips of her pussy.

“Please be gentle, Paul,” she whined as his finger rounded and rubbed the rim of her anus. But she knew he was well aware of what she wanted as Michele seductively moved her bottom, encouraging him to go inward. With his finger inching forward and his throbbing cock buried deeper, he watched her eyes close as she slowly grinded herself against him. Approaching an orgasm, her clitoris started to flutter, and in seconds, it began beating wildly while her heart pounded inside her chest.

“Fuck, Michele,” he groaned, throwing his head back as he surged into her one last time, removing his finger as he held onto her. His body stilled as she felt his seed spurting deep inside her tight tunnel.

Staring into her husband’s smiling hazel green eyes, it was obvious he knew backdoor play was a real turn-on for her even though admitting her desires proved embarrassing. This wasn’t the first time she had skipped her yearly appointment with the gynecologist, and it was fair for him to assume that she hadn’t cancelled because her doctor’s finger would be sliding inside her bottom. In fact, Michele was worried that she might become sexually excited during her exam, but was too embarrassed to admit it. The thought finally occurred to her that Paul had probably figured out her little secret.

“I promise to call the doctor tomorrow and reschedule my appointment, Paul,” she whispered, rolling onto her side. “I know it’s important to have that exam. Am I forgiven?”