Michael paused as he shut the front door of his apartment, eyeing the bob of red hair sticking up over the refrigerator door. He raised an eyebrow, more curious than alarmed, waiting to see who might pop up. After a minute, the smiling face of Zoey, his wife, appeared. “Whatdoya think?” she asked without preamble.
He tilted his head and pretended to contemplate her new hair color. He knew, of course, that there was only one right answer, but he couldn’t resist teasing her a little bit. “Don’t we have a rule in this house about drastic hair color changes?” he asked. She blushed, remembering his reaction to her purple streaks a few months ago. He had been less than pleased, and had made his disapproval clear by paddling her backside and then dying her hair back himself that very night as she sniffled over the sink.
“This isn’t drastic, Michael. It’s a natural color!” Her eyes twinkled. “For all you know, it’s my natural color.” He chuckled as he loosened his tie and walked over to give her a kiss. “Oh, I am quite sure it’s not your natural color,” he told her as he ran a suggestive hand over the back of her blue jeans. “Yeah?” she smirked, “prove it.”
He hesitated only a second before turning her quickly around, so her back was pressed to his front and his hands could work on her belt buckle. She giggled and shrieked as he kissed her neck and finally pushed down her jeans, revealing a pair of leggings. He growled softly, aware of the game now, and nipped her ear as she laughed and pressed against him. He shoved them down impatiently and she all but dissolved into a puddle of mirth at his increasing frustration.
“You are in soooo much trouble, little girl,” he whispered, tugging down a pair of black tights. He pushed her gently forward; she caught herself on the counter before she could lose her balance. Her bare feet were tangled in the layers he’d worked through, and her backside was out, displaying a pair of white high-waist underwear. Michael landed a hard swat on her right cheek, not surprised by the amount of padding he felt or her sly little laugh. He landed a few more smacks before slowly peeling down the underwear, revealing a pair of bright orange hipster cut panties. He repeated his swats, pleased to see her wince a little bit this time.
Once the orange panties were gone, he found a pair of skimpy white lace bikini cut panties, and again his hand came down. She let out a squeal but stayed in place, even when she heard him step back to admire the view. He could see the fresh pink of her otherwise light brown skin through the thin material, and the outline of the thong she wore underneath. Slowly, his slipped his fingers under the band and slid them down her smooth thighs to join the rest of her discarded clothing.
He felt her tense up, finally nervous, less sure of her game now that it was almost over. Michael took her hand and guided her up and around, now leaning her back against the counter so she could see her blushy face, then pushed his own thigh between hers, pulling her into him and kissing her hard. She reacted immediately, pushing against him as he gripped her warm bare skin, the thong still resting alluringly on her hips.
He lifted, and she pulled her feet free of their trappings to wrap her legs around his waist, holding him tightly, keeping her lips plastered to his as he moved them toward the bedroom.
He lay her on top of the covers, prying her arms from his neck after a minute, mumbling a stern “Zoey” when she resisted, ignoring the pout of her lip as he stepped away. He’d felt the speed of her heart when it was pressed against his, and he knew she was anxious about what he’d think. “Up.” She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed her middle up. He patted her left thigh firmly, watching the muscle sway lazily under his hand. He let her sit like that, wondering if she’d drop her pelvis, proud of her when she didn’t, even when her legs began to tremble. Finally he leaned over her, pulling the skimpy cloth away, revealing her fresh smooth skin. He left the black panties around her ankles, letting his eye roam up her body, enjoying the blush that crept down her cheeks and past her collar bones as she felt his eyes on her.
He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of her hips, nudging her knees apart with his arms and gently pushing her back down on the bed with his lips above her navel. He traced a line down her stomach with the tip of his tongue, ending on tender skin that he’d never seen bare before. “Do you like it?” she whispered nervously above his head. He leaned up to kiss her, and she felt the answer clearly as he pressed himself against her. “I love it,” he whispered back, his voice husky with contained lust. He saw her eyes light up with confidence, the teasing glint from earlier replacing her momentary self-consciousness.
With an effort, he pulled back, ignoring her surprised protest. “That wasn’t a very nice trick you played, was it, little miss?” Zoey’s mouth opened in shock, shutting again as she saw the determined look in his eyes. She was a master at manipulation, and she had guided every step of their foreplay so far, knowing exactly what he would do and how he would react– until now. She’d expected him to melt into her, to take her immediately, not to pull back. The corners of her mouth tugged down at this unplanned shift, even as a deep well erupted in her stomach. She would never give up control, not willingly, but she relished the occasions when he took it away from her, longed for them to happen, even though it made her anxious.
“Over,” he said, watching her bottom lip begin to shake, knowing that she would hate this as much as she loved it. She struggled with the decision to obey, fighting to squash the impulse to fight, almost losing, but finally flipping over to lay on her stomach. When she heard the clink of his belt buckle, she whimpered quietly and gripped the covers with her fingers. He doubled the leather, tapping it lightly on her pink backside. “This would be for the jeans,” he said quietly, bringing the belt down hard across her cheeks. She yelped as he brought it down twice more, felt her palms begin to sweat.
“And the sweatpants,” and down came the belt three more times, making dark lines across her skin, “and for the tights.” He took his time, delivering another set of three licks. He paused and stepped close to her, laying his palm against her hot skin, checking on her, making sure she was okay. She made soft noises at his touch, wanting to push against him, but not wanting to grant him the satisfaction of her mixed pleasure. He smiled, recognizing her defiance, stepping back to finish. “And all those panties… not nice at all, was it, Zoey?”
She braced herself as he brought the belt down again, this time quickly and in the same spot across the top of her backside. With little pause he struck again, a repeated line just below the first, and her hand flew back as he finished them. Without missing a beat he began to count, “One. Two,” and her hand was back in front of her, twisting the blanket fiercely, and a tear escaped down her cheek.
He tapped the belt against his own leg a few times, surprising her when he brought it down again, catching the lower curve of her bottom, causing her whole body to jerk forward. She released a ragged sigh, and he knew she was scared of the last three swats, that she was cursing the black thong that even now was suspended between her ankles, above feet that were on tiptoe, pushing hard into the carpet. He didn’t hold back as he delivered the last round to the top of her thighs. She cried out, and that cost her, he knew it did, and it satisfied him to know he had reached her so quickly.
He dropped the belt and went to her, flipping her over gently, kissing the corners of her watering eyes, feeling her cling to him, wanting him. Yes, most days she plotted and schemed and she did her part to keep things interesting in their little house. Tonight, though, tonight she was his entirely, to do with as he wanted, and he desperately, definitely, wanted…