Bound by Her Promise

Blake flicked the cane with his wrist, changing direction. He pointed the end of it between her legs, eased forward and gathered her skirt. The top of the cane disappeared under her dress. She clamped her thighs together. “Blake!” she cried. The point nudged against her mound, pressing into her. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. “I haven’t got panties on, remember,” she mouthed.

“Mmmm, I do remember.” He grinned, removing the cane and returning it to the hook, then he picked a thicker one. “Thud, I think. Now, a decent strap.” He fingered a two-prong strap.

“No, Blake.” She shook her head. “That looks plain mean.”

“Maybe.” He pursed his lips and studied the next one. “This one—single, nice and long—can be doubled up.” He tested it out on his palm with an audible thwack.

Lysa peered down the aisle. She couldn’t see any other customers. “That is cruel. Nothing nice about it at all.” She wanted to snatch it out of his hand and toss it over her shoulder.

“With a good warm-up it leaves lovely red marks. Something to remind you of me while I work.” He kept it in his hand, along with the cane.

At the end of the rack was a glass cabinet. Lysa edged closer, not wishing to appear curious. Inside the case were three paddles made from wood. “Why are they locked away?”

“Wood. A precious commodity out here. These can’t be recycled, but they’ve been used by others, resold, so on. They’re expensive, but I think you’re worth it.” He tapped the glass. “The one on the right?”

A flush of hot blood hit Lysa’s face. Was it the compliment or the idea of him smacking her butt with the paddle that made her blush? Now, she wished she wore panties, because her body’s response to his shopping spree had tipped her over the brink of sensible thoughts. She sensed her wetness and prayed he didn’t think to stuff his hand up there to check her readiness. Why, why, why did she feel so aroused?

“How do you know so much about all this? You’ve not been married before.”

Blake ducked his head down, checking around for others. His ears went pink. She’d never witnessed him embarrassed before now. “Some of the guys have spanking parties.”

“Spanking parties?” she cried, then lowered her voice. “What are they about? Come see me thrash my wife?”

“No.” Blake’s head shot up. “They’re fun. Nothing harsh. The girls enjoy them as much as the men.”

“Sex?” she asked, trying to catch his flitting eyes.

“Not the ones I went to. I prefer to avoid… complications,” he added.

“But you spanked other women?” She was right against his chest, staring up into his face. She wanted him to be truthful. Did he desire other women? It bothered her, knowing he might be thinking about them while he fucked her.

“Yes,” he whispered. “With permission. It was… entertaining.” He ended lamely.

“You wanted to fuck them?”

“Sometimes. It made me realise how much I wanted my own wife, so I could share things with her. To spank her, love her. I will punish if necessary, Lysa, but this,” He cocked his head towards the rack, “is not about discipline. Not always.”

Every inch of her body tingled with mixture of both foreboding and intense lust. If they weren’t in a shop… She blinked, dismissing her fantastical images of debauchery. One word stood out for her. “Love?” she murmured. They’d been together for just over a week and nothing had prepared her for him to use that word. She’d come to the colony expecting never to hear it.

“Yes. It is possible to fall in love, don’t you think?” He settled his attention on her face.

“It is always a possibility.” Her heart pounded and felt as though it was leaping into the back of her mouth. Below, his hardening cock bulged in his pants, pressing into her belly.

Blake exhaled a long breath, as if he’d been holding it behind every word he’d spoken.

Lysa backed away. She’d implied too much. What had they been talking about? Spanking, sex, marriage? The journey they’d signed up for had just begun and she wasn’t ready to speak of such things as love.

“Ah, one more thing.” He inspected the contents of a shelf and picked up a bottle. “This.”

“What is it?” She stood on tiptoes, looking over his shoulder.

“Balm, for cooling you down.”

“Finally something I agree on.” She giggled, but stopped when she watched him handle another small container. “What’s in that one?”

“The opposite. This one heats your bottom up before the first strike of the cane.” His shoulder stiffened. “I won’t use it.” He put it back on the shelf.

Blake carried the cane and strap to the cashier. Lysa wanted to vanish into a black hole, but he insisted he stood next to her at the counter. The man behind the desk rose from his seat where he’d been lounging, eyes half-open and hands resting on his potbelly.