Welcome to another Sunday Sneak Preview! I missed last week, but am not continuing with the story of Jonathon and Jessica, a married couple who live the DD lifestyle. Jessica went out shopping buying expensive items she couldn't afford in an attempt to impress her estranged sister, who is coming to dinner. She overshot her budget mightily, and cannot tell Jonathon how much she was supposed to spend. Both spell trouble for Jessica...BIG trouble.
At that moment, Jonathon walked in, and I turned my head at the sound of his footfalls. My eyes were drawn, wide with horror, to the wooden spoon he held in his hand. It
wasn’t your typical cooking spoon—he kept this one locked in his desk drawer in
the study, and it was used only for extras I earned during my punishment. It was
made out of thick bamboo wood and stung like hell.
“Honey, I--”
“You can talk afterward,” he asserted, his voice gruff. “Now turn back around.”
I did as I was bid, feeling a knot form in my stomach. I knew I deserved to be punished, but did he have to use that thing? He knew that I hated it—which, of course, was the point. I had a few more moments to bemoan my fate before Jonathon called for me to come to him. By that time, I was shaking with nerves and tears wet my face.
Jonathon took my hands in his and pulled me toward him until I was in-between his
knees.
“Hey, love,” he said, gently wiping my tears and placing a kiss on my cheek. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t enjoy it, you know that, right?”
“I know.”
“But we discussed what you were allowed to spend before you left, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” I groaned, wishing he would get on with it already. I knew what I’d done wrong, so why did he have to harp on it! Why couldn’t he just spank me and be done with it? Instead, he liked to lecture me until I felt two feet tall and as abashed as a child. His brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning down, and I felt myself blush.
“Yes, sir,” I corrected.
“How much was your budget, Jess?”
“I don’t know—sir,” I added hurriedly.
“I have it right here in front of me, if you need it, but if I have to tell you you’ll be getting
the strap.”
Tears filled my eyes again at the mention of the dreaded implement, but for the life of me I
couldn’t remember what number we had agreed on.
“Two-fifty?” I guessed, holding my breath in hopes that I’d gotten it right.
Jonathon sighed and hung his head for a moment, giving me a look at his dusty blond locks that felt like silk against my fingertips. I sighed internally. They were about to fall over his eyes again, which meant he would be getting a haircut soon.
“No, Jessica,” he said as he met my eyes. “Care to try again?”
At that moment, Jonathon walked in, and I turned my head at the sound of his footfalls. My eyes were drawn, wide with horror, to the wooden spoon he held in his hand. It
wasn’t your typical cooking spoon—he kept this one locked in his desk drawer in
the study, and it was used only for extras I earned during my punishment. It was
made out of thick bamboo wood and stung like hell.
“Honey, I--”
“You can talk afterward,” he asserted, his voice gruff. “Now turn back around.”
I did as I was bid, feeling a knot form in my stomach. I knew I deserved to be punished, but did he have to use that thing? He knew that I hated it—which, of course, was the point. I had a few more moments to bemoan my fate before Jonathon called for me to come to him. By that time, I was shaking with nerves and tears wet my face.
Jonathon took my hands in his and pulled me toward him until I was in-between his
knees.
“Hey, love,” he said, gently wiping my tears and placing a kiss on my cheek. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t enjoy it, you know that, right?”
“I know.”
“But we discussed what you were allowed to spend before you left, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” I groaned, wishing he would get on with it already. I knew what I’d done wrong, so why did he have to harp on it! Why couldn’t he just spank me and be done with it? Instead, he liked to lecture me until I felt two feet tall and as abashed as a child. His brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning down, and I felt myself blush.
“Yes, sir,” I corrected.
“How much was your budget, Jess?”
“I don’t know—sir,” I added hurriedly.
“I have it right here in front of me, if you need it, but if I have to tell you you’ll be getting
the strap.”
Tears filled my eyes again at the mention of the dreaded implement, but for the life of me I
couldn’t remember what number we had agreed on.
“Two-fifty?” I guessed, holding my breath in hopes that I’d gotten it right.
Jonathon sighed and hung his head for a moment, giving me a look at his dusty blond locks that felt like silk against my fingertips. I sighed internally. They were about to fall over his eyes again, which meant he would be getting a haircut soon.
“No, Jessica,” he said as he met my eyes. “Care to try again?”
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