“I see,” she says breathlessly. “Are we going somewhere a little more private?”
I think of everything waiting for her at my beach house and I can’t control my savage grin. “Oh aye, lovely. Very private.”
“This is your beachcottage?”
Sloan is staring up at my house on the beach in St. Andrews. It’s a three-story stone house, set eight hundred meters away from any other building on either side.
No one within screaming distance…
I fight back the desire to throw her over my shoulder and charge into the house, but it’s taking every shred of my self-control.
“Aye, come have a look.” Putting my hand on the small of her back, I lead her inside, showing her the living room with six sets of french doors opening out onto the beach. I show her the kitchen and attached greenhouse, I show her the master bedroom on the second floor with the enormous terrace, filled with pots of flowers and small trees and a spectacular view of the ocean.
Then I take her to the third floor.
“What’s up here? Oh.” She stops, turning in a circle, mouth open.“Oh.”
I’ve been waiting to show her this part of my life. I’d expected it to be an easing-in before she required discipline, but then my wife decided to take off by herself for a scenario involving a high likelihood of death.
I dinna know how many items here were familiar to her, Dario Toscano told me Sloan never actually worked on the third floor of Club Vice. Compared to some of the areas I’d seen there, this room is almost tame.
Almost.
The room is painted a dark grey, with an enormous black wooden bed holding multiple hooks and rings embedded in theframe. An armoire in one corner holds a treasure trove of toys and devices meant for pleasurable torment. A spanking bench is in one corner, a St. Andrew's cross is in another, along with several other items of furniture and I'm looking forward to introducing my wife to their purposes.
“There’s not a rule you’ve ever met that ya dinna want to break, is there, lass?”
She’s backing away from me as I pull off my belt, eyes wide. “It wasn’t that! I had to get to Nate before Gavin did, that’s all.”
“Did it not occur to ya to come to your husband? A man with multiple experts at his disposal, along with a jet and extensive firepower?” I loop the belt in half, cracking it against my thigh, watching her jump a little.
“I’m- I’m not used to trusting anyone,” she babbles, “I don’t ask for help, I-”
“I could have lost you!” I snap. “Ya put your life in jeopardy instead of asking the single most qualified man in Scotland to help ya? Your husband?”
“Well… I wasn’t thinking,” she deflates.
“Hmm,” I agree.
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s a rather weak response for the ten men and women who risked their lives to rescue ya, aye?” I’ve crowded her into the corner I want, where there’s a well-padded spanking bench. Never let it be said that I dinna want my wife to be comfortable.
“I just-” The back of her knees bump into the bench and I put my hands on her waist, whirling her around to face the bench and bend her over it. “Wait, Ethan!”
I’ve got my belt wrapped around her wrists in seconds securing them in front of her to a hook, stretching her body out into a long, beautiful line. “Not tonight.” I lean close, letting her feel my weight on her back. “Tonight, ya call me Sir. Every time ya forget, there will be another spanking.”
Her wide-eyed look of shock is very gratifying. “You’re going to spank me? I mean, likethat?”
“Just like that.” Pulling out my switchblade, I flick it open, letting her hear the ‘click!’ before running the blade down her back, the fabric from her sweater and then her jeans parting and falling to the floor. Slapping the blade against one cheek, I enjoy her startled yelp before twisting it to cut off her knickers.
Kneeling behind her, I run my tongue along her center, groaning. She tastes like sin and perfection. Pulling out a spreader bar, I quickly latch it to the bench and buckle her ankles in.
“What are you-” She’s trying to look down to see what I did, but her restraints keep her perfectly still. “I don’t know about-”
“Ah, wife,” I say, running my hand along her heart-shaped arse, “ya dinna have a choice.”
The first strike is with my hand. I’ve always enjoyed the physical connection of my hand striking skin, the sting on my hand, watching their arse turn red, watching my sub writhe and groan.
