Chapter 29: One year later: Damian
The club is crowded and one problem after another takes me away from my wife. Lydia is expecting our first child and I would rather be doing something kinky, watching television, or even playing a game of chess rather than settling disputes over which sub belongs to whom.
When I'm not around, Lydia has a way of getting into trouble or at least doing things I expressly forbid. I laugh at the thought. "Forbid" is considered the "F" word as far as she's concerned. I learned that the hard way. Now, with her advanced pregnancy, I'm doing my best to use gentle persuasion. The damn woman makes it hard.
Our relationship morphed from two dominants, madly in love, with me controlling our life in the bedroom to a tricky D/s relationship when we aren't in the club. The change has been gradual and somehow we've made it work. Lydia is an incredible Domme and she needs her time in order to stay mentally balanced. She also desires domination and we've managed to navigate the sometimes stormy waters and do what works for us. Lydia knows my handprint on her ass works for me and I understand her need to control when we're in the club. She's rocked my world since the moment I saw her picture for the first time and I wouldn't take away one day of our unusual relationship. Can I define it as D/s? For us it is. My dominance has moved out of the bedroom and into our everyday lives. At least when we're outside the club. When we enter the doors of Club El Diablo, Lydia is all Domme and a damned good one.
I glance around the low-light interior of the main room. It's getting late and I need to pick up a few things from my office before returning to my seriously chubby and hotter than hell wife. I open the office door and come to a stop. How she managed to tie herself up stumps me for a moment.
"Mommy's been bad, Sir, and needs a spanking." Her wicked smile tells me just how bad she's been.
"Oh, she has, has she?" I leer in my best Dom voice.
With her largely rounded tummy, there is no way she could lean over the desk for a nice spanking. She's tied to my high-backed office chair with her legs secured wide apart strapped to a spreader bar. Yeah, she had help and I'd bet our kinky scene that it was Raul. Tape binds her hands to the chair arms and a pink ribbon surrounds her stomach with a large pink bow slightly to the side of her outy belly button.
The bulge of her stomach keeps my gaze from her smooth pussy. I may need her to slide forward a bit to see it. I know her pussy is smooth because for the past two months, I've been the one to shave it. My lovely Domme wants a master in bed and that parts easy. It's the in-between times like now that make my dick the hardest. She tries topping me every chance she gets. It's in her blood and God is she sexy when she does it. Like right now, telling me what she needs, and how she needs it. From her chubby cheeks to her swollen hands and ankles she's almost more than I can handle at the moment. I would usually punish her for this behavior, but with her rounded belly she has me twisted around her little finger. The upside is I plan to keep it this way and get her pregnant as many times as she's willing.
A spark flashes in her eyes over my hesitation. "Is Daddy afraid Mommy will make him cry when he comes?" she taunts like the she-devil she is.
I shake my head and cross my arms. She's beyond pushy today and must be suffering. "Make me cry, huh?" I say while trying to keep the smile off my face at her feistiness.
Her voice turns petulant and I continue fighting a grin. "Your mind is a million miles away while your fat wife is displayed in all her glory. I think I'd like to make you cry."
I laugh because I know it pisses her off. I walk closer and lean into the chair putting my lips to her ear. "You know when you use the word 'fat' your Dom only punishes you harder."
"I've been very bad, Sir, and need a heavy hand."
She's laying it on thick. I bite my lip to keep from laughing again. "You promised me you would rest. Having yourself tied up in my office is not resting." I lick the side of her neck and trail my tongue up to her ear. She gives a sexy sigh when I nip her earlobe. I smell her musky arousal and it makes my dick thicken. "You think I'm that easy?" I bite a little harder. "You, my naughty little wife, will not enjoy this." I don't give her a chance to respond. Turning the chair, I wheel her to the wall of my office and push her as far into the corner as she can comfortably fit.
"What are you doing?" she huffs in indignation.
Someone's angry, but this is what she gets for topping from the bottom. It's not my fault she pushes boundaries and has punishment bruises across her ass to prove it. Or at least she did up until about six weeks ago when her belly grew so big. I worry about hurting her, and our sexual antics have been on the tame side recently. Is that what this is about? We'll see. "Well, my disobedient sub, these are my rules: You will not speak unless you want a ball gag in that dirty mouth of yours. You will not have an orgasm until I give you permission. And last, you will scream loudly throughout your coming punishment. If-" I let that sink in for a moment. "I decide to grant you the punishment you so rightly deserve."
She strains her neck and looks over her shoulder to glare. "I think Sir has lost his fucking marbles." Yeah, something's obviously got her panties in a twist because she's pushing hard. Her dirty mouth causes her endless trouble and right now is no different. I walk to my desk and take out one of several ball gags I've purchased this past year. This one's new because the others are missing. It took me a while to figure out that she hides them. I'm now playing her game; I hide them until I need one. We've been working on her potty mouth because a child doesn't need to hear the fire she unleashes when she's angry. A ball gag was a last resort, but it's the one that seems to work.
She's watching me and I'm proud of her for not begging. If looks could kill, I'd be lying on the floor in need of resuscitation. I walk closer and run my nose over the skin of her throat. "If you kiss me first, I'll take the gag out sooner," I coax.
Merriment lights her eyes. "You're getting soft," she laughs huskily. "Put those lips to mine so I can fuck your mouth." She dares to use her Dom voice in order to gain back some of her control. Spinning the chair, my lips claim hers. Our tongues tangle as I deepen the kiss. She sucks at my lips and adds more than one gentle nip. There's no one in the world who kisses like she does. I pull away and place my hand on her extended belly. "Is there anything you and Abigail aren't ready for?" I ask seriously, stopping the scene for a moment because I know we need to be cautious.
"Leave her out of this. Mommy needs to come, and Sir needs to make fucking sure it happens," she snaps.
It's time to take the feisty out of her. If she wants to come and needs me to do it, she will act her part. I lift the small red ball to her mouth and secure the soft leather behind her head. "You look so damn sexy like this. Having you unable to speak or tell me what you want is only icing on the mommy cake. You're perfect." Her eyes go from sensual to snappy just like I knew they would. "You've been resisting my punishments for long enough and building quite the list of transgressions. After Abigail is born, it will be your fault my hand is red and swollen from spanking your ass. Now be a good little sub and work on patience."
I turn the chair so she's facing the corner again. She doesn't start kicking the wall until I've been at my desk looking at paperwork for about three minutes. "Each kick adds five minutes to the time you spend contemplating your lack of subservience."
She screams behind the gag but stops kicking the wall. I go back to my paperwork without really seeing what's in front of me. I'm too conscious of the woman tied up in the corner. She sits without moving for another five minutes and I finally walk over and turn her around. "I have something special planned, so be good." This time I make sure she sees my grin. "Since your mouth is under control, you'll use your fingers if this is too much. One finger means you're close to your limit and two means stop." My hand trails over her delightfully chubby knuckles resting on the arm of the chair. I physically lift one finger from the armrest and then two. "Do you understand?"
I'm unsurprised when her middle finger comes up.
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