Being over his lap on the couch was much easier than when he was sitting in a chair. She didn't have to worry about her balance at all. She was getting to be a bit of an expert at getting spanked, unfortunately. It wasn't something she aspired to at all, but he'd spanked her in his study several times, which seemed very formal and almost stilted to her now.
He'd also just caught her and bent her over his arm, very impromptu, like now, when she'd let loose with a string of obscenities one Sunday when it looked like the Pats were going to lose. They had been in the kitchen, during half time, talking about the game and a very badly fumbled ball, and she let out a stream of curses that had startled him for a minute. She didn't generally use language like that, but it wasn't as if she didn't know it. And she liked cheering for a team and was usually alone when she did it, so it was hard to get out of the habit of not screaming at them like a lunatic. Sunday afternoons had been one of the few times Daddy had been home, and it had been a West tradition to hang around and watch the Pats play, so Elodie grew up watching football on Sunday afternoons.
At first, Clay had looked at her like she was some kind of trucker, as if those words couldn't really have come from her mouth. And then his face clouded over. She was quickly learning that that was never a good sign. She could remember a time when he had never looked at her that way, and now it seemed that every other time she glanced at his face, it was pinched tight and frowning at something or other she had done.
She was certainly getting an interesting glimpse into April's life with him, especially since he'd been starting to treat her more like a girlfriend than just his sister-in-law. Elodie was surprised at herself—that she was letting him do what he was doing to her. But she was worse than a heroin addict when it came to Clay, especially once she'd given in to him in one way, it was so nice not to have to be fighting with herself all the time. And his kisses... dear God, his kisses drove her to utter madness!
Since April had died, Elodie had lived in such a guarded state around Clay. Always having to be wary of herself and her own reactions to him. Not wanting to let too much emotion or reaction show around him while she squashed down everything she felt for him and stuffed it into the dark, cobwebbed corners of herself, only to be examined on the darkest of nights when no one would be the wiser.
The way their relationship was developing, though, let her feel so free. He was moving slowly enough that she didn't feel alarmed, and every single thing he did made her body sing... even the spankings, although she wouldn't admit that even under the pain of the worst kind of torture.
But feeling freer meant that she was that much more likely to get into trouble, such as repeated use of the f-word while describing how ridiculous it was that three hundred pound men who were paid exorbitant amounts of money to do something as simple as run up and down a field and catch a pigskin ball still managed to drop it on occasion.
Elodie had seen him coming, with that thundercloud face of his, and had backed away from him, but even in his huge kitchen, there was nowhere to go to avoid him—he was so big, he filled her field of vision when he was still a ways away from her, and his arms were out so that he could catch her easily if she tried to run away.
Instead, he'd tipped her forwards, over his left arm, and brought his right hand down onto her jean-covered butt, very sharply, ten times in a row. The strength of each swat rocked her whole body, lifting her onto her tiptoes. And even though it looked like she should have been able to get away from him fairly easily, there was nothing doing. She wasn't going anywhere that he didn't want her to go.
"I didn't realize you possessed the vocabulary of a sailor, my dear. But this is fair warning. If I ever hear a diatribe like that come out of your beautiful mouth again, you won't be able to sit down for a week." He punctuated nearly every word with another painful meeting of palm to rear. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
In her heart, Elodie protested the blatant suppression of her right to free speech. It was supposed to be an inalienable right, dammit, and here he was, alienating it all over her butt! She quickly decided, however, that she'd rather end this spanking as soon as possible. She was already on the verge of crying, and he didn't seem to be anywhere near finishing.
In fact, because she hesitated before acquiescing, he got in another ten or so swats. "Apparently, I haven't—"
"Yes, yes, yes, you've made yourself clear, jeez!"
She was already trying to wiggle out of his hold, but he clearly didn't want to let her go. "That didn't sound very contrite to me."