Troublemaker Page 7

  Not anymore though…

  Jo moaned aloud as Chris’s fingers slid across her clit… over it and over it and over it… the buzzing heat building up inside her, making her shiver and gasp. The warm throb between her legs was now matching the throb of her punished bottom, and she felt lightheaded in the grip of such overwhelming sensations.

  “Please,” she gasped when she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Please… I can’t bear it… please fuck me…”

  “Right here, right now?” demanded Chris, in a harsh whisper right into her ear. She could feel his erection pressing hard against her hip.

  “Yes.”

  “Right then…” Chris gripped Jo’s thighs and then heaved her up until she was straddling him, dragging down his jeans and boxers once she was in position. Jo wrapped her legs around his waist and then plunged herself down over his cock. She was so wet and he was so hard that it was easy, even in this precarious position.

  Chris groaned and staggered backwards, holding Jo tightly in place, until his back hit the wall next to the fireplace. With a wall for Chris to brace against and mantelpiece for Jo to grip for leverage, they began fucking in earnest. Pounding, plunging, straining hard against one another.

  Jo cried out as the heat inside her grew and grew. Her skirt was still bunched around her waist and the top half of her clothing was in sweaty, sideways disarray, but that only added to the excitement, to the urgency, to the trembling heat that was making her gasp and writhe and let out desperate whimpers.

  Chris’s hands were digging into the backs of her thighs so hard that she was sure she would have marks. That thought made her grind onto him all the harder. Marked, punished, claimed.

  The world narrowed down just to the feeling of Chris’s cock plunging into her and the pain of his hands digging into the back of her thighs. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else was present or real. Only the pain and the pleasure combined.

  The feelings inside Jo were reaching their peak. She gripped the mantelpiece so tightly with her right hand that her knuckles turned white. Her other hand was trapped between Chris’s shoulder and the wall. She strained against his body, desperate for release, making increasingly high-pitched whimpers as the buzzing heat in her clit grew and grew…

  And then she screamed, bucking and writhing as the heat overflowed… as everything disappeared into a frenzied wave of ecstasy…

  In the midst of her orgasm, she heard Chris let out a cry of his own, felt the even stronger thrusts inside her, spurring her on, dragging out her own pleasure.

  And then they were kissing, panting, laughing…

  …slowly easing themselves down and apart and walking, unsteadily, into the bedroom.

  And even though it was over, Jo still felt as though she were flying, soaring.

  Everything had changed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chris drew back the folded belt and then brought it down hard against the cushion propped up on the dining chair in front of him.

  “Good one,” said Karl, pushing his floppy black fringe out of his eyes before taking a swing at his own cushion. The room was full of the sound of swishing and smacking as the other husbands did the same.

  “Cheers,” said Chris, fluffing his cushion back into its original shape before placing it back on the dining chair. He was pretty happy with how this morning’s session was going. Years of playing both golf and tennis had given him good aim, strength, and accuracy, meaning that this was the first lesson where he actually felt on a level with—if not better than—the other husbands.

  He drew the belt back again—trying to imitate the way that Mr Anderson had done it back on night two—and snapped it down. It made a satisfying sound and bashed the cushion back out of shape.

  “Very nice, Mr Butler,” commented today’s tutor—a distinguished-looking man with smooth, tanned skin called Mr Wharton-Lees—as he walked past. “Mr Drake, you might want to try holding the end of the belt when you raise it so as to give you better control. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

  Chris saw Karl flush slightly as he stepped back to allow the tutor to take over and decided to move away for a bit to give them some space.

  “You all right there, Chris?” called Eddie with his trademark grin. He was relaxing in one of the leather armchairs with a mug of coffee.

  Chris grinned back, happy to settle himself in the opposite armchair. “Yeah, not bad. Had enough of belting cushions then?”

  Eddie laughed. “Let’s just say, it’s not really something I need to practise! My Nina loves the belt.”

  Chris hesitated and then leaned forward, voice lowered. “So when you say she ‘loves’ it… she doesn’t shout or scream or anything? I mean, she just likes it and it doesn’t hurt her?”

  Eddie mirrored Chris’s posture, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on his wide lap. “Sure it hurts,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It’s meant to hurt. More importantly, she wants it to hurt. And yeah, sometimes she cries and screams and begs me to stop. But that’s just part of the game, Chris. It’s why we have a safeword. Although I like to think, these days, I know her well enough to be able to tell the difference between play-unhappy and real-unhappy. You and your little troublemaker will get there too, you know. All it takes is communication.”

  Chris smiled in spite of himself, picturing Jo’s face if he told her that she had been referred to as a “troublemaker”.

  But his smile faded as quickly as it had come. “I guess I just don’t want to end up hurting her. I mean really hurting her… Going too far, you know? I guess ‘hitting your wife’… I mean, even if she asks you to…”

  “Look, if your Jo is anything like my Nina, she wants to be disciplined for one reason and one reason only: because it turns her on. It’s an itch that she needs scratching, Chris, and she can’t do it for herself. That’s all there is to it.”

  Chris looked into Eddie’s self-assured brown eyes and felt, if anything, more confused.

  “Seriously, Chris,” Eddie went on, still in a low voice, “the rules and the tellings off and you being all stern, it’s all just part of the game. It all just adds to the high for her, the buzz. You two can make it as real as you want, but it will still always be a game. And that’s a good thing. It’s not ‘hitting’, it’s not abuse. It’s a game you play together than turns you both on. She may not realise it, but when she’s asking you to be serious, to make it real—what she’s really asking for is a more intense game, for playing so realistic that it almost feels real. Or at least,” Eddie leaned back in his chair with a grin, “that’s what I think. But, hey, you don’t have to listen to me.”

  “No, that’s great,” said Chris, leaning back as well and clearing his throat. “Really. You talk a lot of sense.”

  “Ha! You’ll never hear Nina say that!”

  They both laughed and the small knot of anxiety that had been coiling around in Chris’s stomach all morning started to ease off.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jo glowered down at the messy worktop in front of her. “You know, I never thought I’d miss that bloody classroom,” she muttered to Heather.

  Heather pushed back her black hair and darted a quick look over her shoulder. “Shh!” she whispered, but Jo could see she was trying not to smile.

  For their afternoon lesson, Ms Edridge had brought them to the staff kitchen and had given them each a section of the room to clean. She had issued her instructions and then left them to it, threatening notes for anyone whose cleaning didn’t match up to her high standards.

  “Aww, Leah, you really drew the short straw,” said Jo, looking over to where Leah was kneeling on the tiles, her blonde hair tied back in a dotty headscarf as she scrubbed inside the oven.

  “Tell me about it!” said Leah with a laugh. “It’s a good thing I get turned on by servant play, huh?”

  Everyone laughed, apart from Heather, who was nibbling her lower lip. “I really don’t want to get another note,” she whispered when
Jo gave her a questioning look. “Karl spanked me so hard for the note I got yesterday.”

  Jo felt a jolt of envy in her stomach but then remembered that her husband had spanked her really hard as well and it was replaced by a feeling of surprised smugness.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Jo whispered back, elbowing Heather in a playful way and getting a reluctant smile out of her.

  “Well, obviously I like being spanked or I wouldn’t be here,” murmured Heather, turning red as she spoke. “But I like the good girl spankings much more than the punishment ones.”

  “What’s a good girl spanking?” asked Jo, speaking much louder than she had intended.

  Nina and Leah burst out laughing—Leah had to lean back on her heels to stop herself from falling forwards into the oven—and even Emily’s ordinarily serious expression broke into a grin.

  Nina was the first to recover. “Well maybe if you try being a good girl one of these days, Jo, you’ll get to find out!”

  Jo did a fake pout and threw a tea towel at Leah, who was still beside herself with giggles on the floor. “You guys are mean.”

  “Not as mean as Ms E is going to be if we don’t get this place spotless,” interjected Emily, the grin on her face being replaced with a look of grim determination as she stacked up the dirty plates on the worktop in her section. “Who got the sink?”

  “Me,” said Heather, with a sigh.

  Emily gave her a sympathetic grimace as she passed her the stack of dirty plates.

  Even though cleaning was hardly the most fun activity in the world, Jo was enjoying spending time with the other wives without the overbearing presence of Ms Edridge spoiling all their fun. Jo loved their bawdy humour, their openness, and the unembarrassed way they talked about sex and spanking. It was one thing to know that people like this existed via the internet; it was a whole other thing to meet them in person.

  “So when did you and Eddie start doing the whole, y’know, discipline thing?” Jo asked Nina, as they cleared the detritus of today’s lunch from their sections of the kitchen.

  “Oh since day one,” said Nina, sweeping a load of breadcrumbs off the worktop and onto her palm. “We met on a domestic discipline website so we already knew in advance that we both liked the same things.”

  “Lucky you,” said Jo as Nina grinned and took the crumbs to the bin.

  “How much longer do we have?”

  Jo turned around to see Heather up to her elbows in soapy water with a look of barely-concealed panic on her pale face.

  “I think about ten minutes,” called Emily from the other end of the kitchen. Her section was now clear of rubbish and she was spraying it down with lemon-scented disinfectant.

  The words “oh shit” emanated from the oven where Leah was still scrubbing.

  Heather’s eyes widened and she gave Jo a look of pure despair. “I’m never going to finish on time!”

  “Let me help,” said Jo at once, sweeping up the last of the vegetable peelings from her own section and hurrying over to the bin with them.

  Heather still looked anxious. “But Ms Edridge said—”

  “Fuck Ms Edridge,” snapped Jo. “Now you carry on washing and I’ll dry.”

  “But you haven’t finished your section.”

  “Haven’t I?” said Jo, looking at the cleared work surface. “It looks pretty clean to me.”

  “She’ll expect it to be scrubbed and disinfected, Jo,” called Emily from her section. She was now buffing the worktop with a dry cloth, thin strands of brown hair coming loose from her bun. “If you want the stuff, it’s down here.”

  “Nah, it’s fine.”

  Heather gave Jo a pained but grateful look as Jo positioned herself next to the draining board.

  “You really shouldn’t,” she whispered, “you’ll get in trouble.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Jo, “We all know she’s going to give me a note anyway. Besides, I already got one this morning, remember?”

  This morning’s lesson had been entitled “Rules, Respect and Obedience” and Jo had lasted about five minutes before getting a note for arguing that the title should be changed to “Obeying When—and Only When—You Feel Like It”.

  Heather let out a tiny giggle and pushed her long hair back behind her ears. “You’re way braver than me.”

  Jo laughed. “I think ‘stupider’ is probably to the word you’re looking for!”

  Even with both Jo and Heather on washing up duty, they only just got all the dishes cleaned in time. And it wasn’t really finished finished because they had to leave some of the plates on the draining board as there just wasn’t time to dry them. As it was, Jo had barely had time to leap back to her section as the kitchen door swung open.

  “Time’s up!” barked Ms Edridge.

  Leah scurried backwards out of the oven and gave Ms Edridge a plaintive look over her shoulder. “I’ve done as much as I can, ma’am.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, Mrs Younge.”

  Leah gave a sad little sigh—with a sideways wink at Jo—and got to her feet, brushing down the front of her pale pink 1950’s style dress.

  “So, Mrs Parry, let’s start with you.”

  Emily stood back with her hands clasped in front of her while Ms Edridge inspected her section.

  After what felt like several long minutes, Ms Edridge said, “Almost perfect. In future, however, make sure you give the splash back tiles more than just a cursory wipe: they should also be disinfected. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” whispered Emily, eyes downcast.

  Jo gasped as she saw the tutor take her pad of pink note paper out of her bag. “But you said it was perfect!” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  Ms Edridge didn’t look up: she simply tore another piece of notepaper out of the pad. “I said it was ‘almost perfect’, Mrs Butler. Almost perfect is not perfect. And for speaking out of turn—again—you will also receive a note.”

  Jo opened her mouth to argue back but then noticed Heather’s stricken face and stopped herself.

  Poor Heather. She had been so desperate not to get another note.

  Ms Edridge moved onto Leah’s section, leaning down to glare into the oven. “Hmm, from what I can see in here, you could have tried a lot harder, Mrs Younge.”

  Leah’s expression was a curious mixture of resentment and anticipatory delight as she watched Ms Edridge write her out a note.

  When Ms Edridge arrived at Heather’s section, her eyes narrowed. “Mrs Drake!” she snapped, “do you honestly mean to tell me that despite having all this time, you haven’t even managed to wash and dry the dishes? What have you been doing?”

  “I—I’ve been washing them as fast as I can.”

  “You have had plenty of time, Mrs Drake. This just isn’t good enough, is it?”

  The pink notepad was out again and Jo gritted her teeth as she watched Heather hug her arms, hunch her shoulders and back away until she bumped up against the edge of the sink.

  “Please,” Heather whispered and Jo was horrified to hear that she sounded close to tears, “I really did try my best.”

  Ms Edridge ripped the piece of notepaper from the pad and Heather flinched.

  “I’m not interested in hearing any more excuses. I suggest you keep quiet unless you want a second note.”

  Jo couldn’t keep it in any longer. “You are such a fucking bitch!”

  Heather and Emily gasped, Leah clapped a hand over her mouth as if to hold in a laugh and Nina made a portentous “ooh” sound.

  “She tried really hard,” Jo went on. “Everyone did. It’s so unfair to give people notes when they tried their fucking best!”

  Silence.

  Ms Edridge didn’t move for a second. She simply looked at Jo through narrowed eyes and said nothing.

  As the silence dragged out, Jo took a step backwards and crossed her arms across her chest.

  Then Ms Edridge reached down into her bag. But instead of the notepad, s
he pulled out a sleek mobile phone.

  As she watched the tutor brushing her fingertips across the screen, Jo felt the first stirrings of anxiety in her belly. The sunlight shining in through the window at Emily’s end of the kitchen suddenly seemed too bright, and the kitchen units seemed whiter and harsher than they had just a few minutes ago.

  Ms Edridge put the phone to her ear.

  Jo held her breath.

  “Oh hi—Tom?” said Ms Edridge in a pleasant, friendly voice that Jo had never heard her use before. “I’m afraid we’ve reached the point, as it were. Yes.” She paused and let out a bright laugh that seemed so at odds with her usual demeanour that Jo’s mouth actually fell open. “Yes, you were right. Are you able to—? Brilliant. Thanks, Tom. Oh sorry, what’s that?” Another pause. “Sounds perfect. All right then—see you in a moment. Bye.”

  Ms Edridge hung up.

  “Right, everyone apart from Mrs Butler, please return to the classroom.” Her voice had returned to its usual brisk, sharp tone. “Mrs Wright, I can see from here that no disinfectant has been used in your section so it’s going to be a note for you as well.”

  If Nina replied, Jo didn’t hear her. There seemed to be an odd, rushing sound in her ears. Who had Ms Edridge been talking to? What did she mean by “reached the point”?

  With a jolt, Jo remembered the blackboard message on their first night: Your tutor is Mr Thomas Anderson…

  Tom. Oh, fuck.

  As the last of the others filed out of the kitchen door, Ms Edridge put her hands on her hips and turned back to Jo. “Right, Mrs Butler. Stand over there in the corner. Face the wall with your hands behind your back. Mr Anderson will be here shortly.”

  But Jo’s feet seemed glued to the spot. She opened her mouth and surprised even herself with the words that came out. “Why do you pretend to be evil?”

  Jo didn’t know what she expected. An angry outburst, perhaps. Or a slap across the face.