He took a few steps towards the double doors to his study, then turned and crooked his finger at her. "Come here, Elodie. And don't even think of bolting back out that door, because if I have to chase you, it's going to be that much worse."
She hadn't been thinking that, but his comment made her wish she had. She'd been too deep in her memories to remember that the health and welfare of her bottom was on the line here. And there he was, standing there, crooking his finger at her as if he was going to give her a gift or something when she got in there with him...
Elodie's hands went automatically to her bottom while he stared at her, trying to protect what could not be protected, at least not from him, apparently. She walked past him and into the study that way, standing nervously in front of his desk while he drew the curtains closed on the big bow and side windows.
*****
Clay realized that this needed to be done quickly. If he gave her too much time to think about it, she'd turn tail and run, and he didn't want to have to be chasing her across the cattle fields. So he took one of the straight backed chairs that had been put to such use occasionally during his marriage and set it down in the middle of the cream colored, Persian rug. It was one of the leftovers from their dining room table. Since there had only been two of them, except when they entertained, he and April hadn't needed all eight chairs that had come with the antique carved oak table, so some of them had ended up in the foyer, a couple in his study, and one in their bedroom. Their dual purpose had always made him smile secretly when he looked at them scattered around the house.
He tugged on her arm, and she resisted, but not as much as he expected her to, though. She oofed a little when he laid her over his lap, and that thing that only seemed to happen with her now had happened again, and there was no way she was going to mistake what was poking boldly into her belly. Clay decided to ignore it—as much as was possible. He knew that if he mentioned it to her, she would dissolve right into the floor, and he hadn't really dealt with that situation yet himself. It was best to just concentrate on the matter at hand.
It had been a long while since he had had a beautiful lady over his lap. He'd almost forgotten the feeling, but he couldn't take the time to luxuriate in it, either. Elodie needed to learn who was boss, and he intended to get the message home as quickly and efficiently as possible. One thing which he knew was vitally important in a Domestic Discipline relationship, was to always follow through with the threat of discipline. Consistency was of upmost importance, or the whole dynamic became wishy-washy.
Despite the fact that he wasn't at all sure he should do it, he tugged down her jeans and panties all at once, before she really had a chance to work herself into a lather. There would be time for that later, he was sure. But for the moment, he'd caught her completely off guard, and he was going to use that to his advantage.
Her round, white globes on full display would have made his knees collapse had he not already been sitting down. He couldn't fight the urge to glance at the V between her silky thighs, just begging his hand to dip in and explore. He wasn't sure why, but he was pretty positive that if he dipped his finger into her pussy, it would be instantly coated in her juices of arousal. Her breathing revealed much more than just fear of the upcoming punishment.
*****
Elodie was absolutely mortified. She had begun to reconcile herself with the idea that he might spank her—that she'd have to lie over his lap and feel his hand connecting with her bottom, but her mind had sterilized it nicely for her, so that she didn't have to deal with the more intimate, or painful, aspects of being put in that position.
But here she was, and it was intimate enough when they were both fully clothed. Then he reached around under her and undid the button and zipper of her jeans, and before she could even manage a wiggle of protest, her pants and panties were around her calves.
Oh God! I am completely bare and he can see everything!
Before she knew it, the first swat descended, exploding on her bare flesh and making her draw in a deep breath with which to throw her head back and squall, but then the second and third and fourth smacks came along, and he settled into a rhythm that she knew was going to be trouble, and she didn't have a chance to dwell on the spike that was poking up from beneath her into her tummy.
"No! Stop! Please! Clay!" There was nothing she could do. She was over his lap, bare bottomed, in the house that he and April had shared. His hand—broad as a barn and hard as a plank of redwood—was descending over and over onto her well-rounded butt.