Jake

Returning from Mr. Cooper’s ranch, I found the house empty. Guessing Buttercup was running an errand—or stalling her paddling session with me—I figured I had some time to work on my wedding gift for her.

I finally knew what I would paint for my wife. Her. Not just her body, but a painting of her body. Her torso, her breasts. The gold and teal paints swirling over the rise of her peaked nipple. She was beautiful. And I would capture that beauty on canvas.

Looking over the printed, enlarged picture of my wife the day I had painted her body I felt like the luckiest man alive. That small seductive smile on her face—she wasn’t even trying to look sexy, she just was—her dark hair, flowing over her shoulders. The tan line faded, her beautiful skin back to its creamy white.

I would capture that moment forever. With my paint and my brush. And I would give it to her, to hide away in the closet. To remember that day. Her and her newlywed husband, laying on a drop cloth over the grassy backyard of their first home, decorating one another’s bodies with the caress of their fingertips.

I pulled the easel out to the center of the room; the light was best there. Taping the picture to the top of the easel I propped one of my smaller, 8x10 canvases portrait style.

My mind slowed, my focus only on my work. It’s like that, with woodworking and art. As if time stands still or slows. But the opposite is the reality. You think you’ve only been working twenty minutes and you look up and four hours have gone by.

Buttercup says it’s the same way for her with the EMT gig. Once the blood starts flowing, the patients face paling, the clock stops ticking. It’s like a movie when its set to slow motion.

As always, when I lifted my eyes to the clock, it felt like minutes, but two hours had passed. Wanting the painting to be a surprise, I quickly cleaned up behind me. Buttercup would surely be home any minute.

Opening the fridge, I saw we had the makings for the only food I really could cook besides pancakes—omelets. Pulling out the ingredients one by one, my mouth began to water. I was starving.

First, I cracked the eggs into a bowl. Then I whisked in a splash of heavy cream and salt and pepper. Leaving the mixture to sit, I chopped up peppers and onions, but no mushrooms, Buttercup thought they were too slimy, and grated a quarter of a block of Colby-Jack cheese.

Voila! My famous Western omelet. Add avocado and bacon, and it was my California omelet. A little ham and I called it my Southern Special.

My fingers drummed on the countertop, the noise keeping me company in the quiet house. Buttercup was not home. Pacing to the front of the house, I pulled the curtain back from the window, hoping to see the headlights of her car. No dice.

She must be visiting Jessica, or Carrie. Shoving the thought of Thomas lurking around Poke—the one vampire brother I still didn’t trust—I sat down to partake in the dinner I had cooked. I took a bite, the food melting in my mouth. Not too bad.

Polishing off the last bite on my plate, I reached over picking up Buttercup’s. I’d make her a fresh one when she finally got home. No use letting this one go to waste. Everyone knows eggs are only good hot and fresh, right after they are cooked.

Finishing her meal as well, I pushed my chair back, patting my full stomach. “That hit the spot,” I said out loud to no one.

My hunger subsided, my thoughts turned back to worry. Where the heck was she? Standing, I went back into the kitchen, hunting around on the counter top for a note. Surely, she left one if she wasn’t expecting to be back. I had told her that I would be home tonight.

No note. I checked the fridge. There were paintings, drawings, coloring pages messily scribbled—all for my Buttercup from her fan club of little nephews. A drawing of a heart, with the words, ‘i luv butercup’ written in messy handwriting from one of the boys’ pudgy little hands.

“You and me both, kid,” I breathed, disappointed to not find Buttercup’s neat handwriting, explaining her absence, on one of the pieces of paper.

Pushing a creeping panic away, I began to clean the kitchen. After putting the food away and washing all the dishes by hand—a trick Mama Love taught me to ease a worried mind, I began to calm though she wasn’t home. She was probably just out with Cherry and forgot to tell me. I would give her another hour before I called her.

Settling down on the couch, I picked up the remote, flipping to ESPN. It was a great chance to catch up on my sports news. Buttercup could tolerate my obsession with professional baseball, but I tried not to hog the television with it when she was home.

Minutes were inching by like hours. Glancing once more at the time on my phone, my stomach sank. The hour I had allotted was up. Buttercup still wasn’t home.

Clicking off the baseball, I hit my recent calls, the list read, ‘Butterbaby, Butterbaby, Ray, Butterbaby,’ and so on. My wife receiving the majority of my calls.

Tapping her number, her sweet face popped up on the screen above the word, ‘Dialing.’ My heart was stuck in my throat, having stopped beating at the sound of the third unanswered ring.

One more dull trilling noise, then a click, and “This is Buttercup. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

Hiding the panic from my voice, I said, “Hey, babe. Give me a call when you get this. I made you a pretty mean omelet, but I ate it. Just wondering where you are.”

The clock ticked away, another hour passed. Dialing her number once more, I waited to hear her voice. The high, quiet lilt of her voice. No answer. “Buttercup. You need to call me as soon as you get this. I’m worried about you.”

Baseball no longer a solace to me, I paced the floors, hoping to see the glare of headlights in the driveway.

Picking up my phone, I dialed Ray.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ray. How are you?”

“Hey, Jake. I’m well. Just getting these young whippersnappers to bed. They usually are down by eight, but you know baseball was on and what’s a dad to do?” I could hear his boys being rowdy in the background. Despite my worry, a smile crossed my face.

I chuckled. “Good luck. Sounds like you have an impossible task ahead of you. I won’t keep you. I was just checking to see if Buttercup was over there.”

Ray’s jovial laugh died at the mention of Buttercup’s name. I wasn’t the only protective man in the town of Poke. “She’s not here. She’s not with you?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing but I expected her home around six—”

“It’s nine o’clock.”

“I know.”

“She didn’t leave a note? Answer her phone?”

“Nope.” I stacked the quarters that lay on the kitchen counter into neat little piles as Ray spoke.

“Jessica did that to me once. The boys were sleeping over with Carrie and an old friend of hers from high school came into town. Jessica was so delighted by the surprise, when she left to go out to dinner with her friend, she forgot to leave a note. They got to gabbing over tacos and her phone battery died while in her purse. She didn’t realize it was gone till she was grabbing it to text me she was on her way home—at eleven o’clock at night.”

“Sounds like what could have happened tonight,” I said, hoping for the best.

“I had been calling her like crazy. By the time she got home, I was so worked up… well let’s just say, Miss Jessica hasn’t made the same mistake since.”

“I’ll text you as soon as I hear from her. Thanks, Ray.”

“You do that. You’re a good man, Jake. I’m glad she’s got you.”

“You too, Ray.”

Flipping my finger over the screen, I got back to Buttercup’s face. She was so pretty—it almost hurt to look at her sometimes. It wasn’t the kind of pretty that stopped cars or turned men’s heads as she walked by, more of a slow, steady breathtaking, natural beauty that just washed over you as you looked at her. I’d give her one more call, then wait it out on the chair by the door.

Voicemail. “Buttercup—you’re in trouble.”

She had been quiet on the drive home from the building—distant almost. I figured she was thinking about what we had just witnessed between Ryder and Cherry or was nervous about her upcoming punishment. I had dropped her off in the driveway when we had gotten home from the EMS building. I called out, “See you tonight,” but she had not said anything, just waved and run into the house. She hadn’t even mentioned going somewhere tonight.

Giving a huge sigh, I went to the far side of the kitchen to plug my phone into the charger. My stomach sank. There on the counter was Buttercup’s bright pink phone, I assumed set to silent.

She hadn’t even taken it with her.

She always took it with her.

My imagination ran wild. Visions of Buttercup, forcefully removed from our home by the dark-haired, pale man who had tormented her years earlier. Tom dragging her through our front door, Buttercup’s hand reaching out towards the pink phone.

Or a car accident. Should I call the police? Surely, Poke Rescue would have called me if they had heard something.

Walking over to the front window I slumped down in my worn brown leather chair. Head in my hands I gave a half mad chuckle. I was losing it. Buttercup was safe. She’d be home soon. And she would have some serious explaining to do.

Laying my head back on the cushion, I closed my eyes, drifting off in the chair.

* * *

Buttercup

My stomach clenched in knots. I had to pass this exam—I had worked so hard.

And then I had to go home to face Jake.

I had directly disobeyed him. Putting myself—in his mind—in danger.

Even though I knew Ryder held no threat, it didn’t matter. Jake had made it clear—beyond a shadow of a doubt—I was to tell him if I saw Ryder.

I steeled my nerves. Facing my husband could wait. First, I had to get through this exam. But before all that—I had to pick up Cherry.

Cherry and I giggled like children on the drive to the exam. She was over the moon with excitement and just couldn’t believe that Ryder had come to Poke Town for her.

“I mean. I had no idea. I would stare at him all through class and sometimes I would catch him staring at me, but I always thought he was just staring at me because he had caught me staring at him. You know what I mean?”

My head was spinning with Cherry’s fast talking as we feasted on fajitas at Fiesta Mexicana. I would have thought nerves would have stopped me from eating, but I packed away more than my share of the delicious food.

By the time we reached the classroom, I was glad she had distracted me with her complete word for word rendition of their cupcake date because when I saw the papers sitting on the desk, nausea hit my stomach. I felt faint and I wanted to throw up, my dinner heavy in my stomach. The packet of paper was so thick.

Giving my arm a squeeze, Cherry whispered, “Good luck, Buttercup. You’ll do great.”

She went off and sat at a desk by the window. I took a deep breath, then took my own seat at a desk nearest the door—just in case my nerves got the best of me and I needed to get to the bathroom and spew. I guess I had not only not outgrown my fear of heights, but also my test taking anxiety.

Glancing over the papers before me, I took up the advice from my tenth grade English teacher—the one who had finally got me diagnosed with dyslexia. Go through and answer the easy ones first—the ones you are sure to get right. From there pick and choose the ones you are fairly certain of and answer as they get harder. I went through the questions, stumbling only over the words, ‘second stage of heat exposure is heat exhaustion’.

When I got to the last little bubble that wasn’t filled in, I racked my brain, chewing on the end of my pencil. Which of the following is not an indicator of diabetic ketoacidosis? Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I searched the deepest pockets of my memory.

I couldn’t find the answer. I left the bubbles empty.

“Time’s up.” A big smile from our moderator. She made her way around the room collecting the tests.

Cherry gave me a thumbs up. She had aced hers and was sure of it. I had always struggled in school. I had no problem with the hands-on training, knowing what to do almost as if from muscle memory once someone had showed me something one time.

But the questions, the terminology. The big words. They had left my brain feeling fried.

“You may stay for your scores, or I can email them to you tomorrow.”

Cherry turned to me, smiling, “Let’s go, Buttercup. I’m sure we did just fine.”

“I want to stay.” I knew it wasn’t just that I was stalling not ready to face Jake. I needed to know if I had passed. If all my arduous work had paid off. I had to know.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Want me to stay behind with you?”

“That’s okay, Cherry. You go on ahead. I’ll stay here and wait.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not a bit. Hey, but don’t you need a ride home since I drove you here?”

“I’ve got a hot date with Ryder tonight. He just texted me. He’s waiting outside.”

“Already? Two dates in one day?”

“Yep. I’m gonna be missus Doctor Ryder Cherry one day. I just know it.”

“That’s not how the titles work.”

“Whatever. That boy is sweeter on me than a bee on honey.”

“And do you feel the same?”

The shine in her eyes and pink on her cheeks answered before her words could. “Yep, and I have ever since I walked in that class and his blue eyes looked up into mine. Bye, Buttercup.” She drew me in for a tight hug.

“Bye, Cherry.”

Watching her curly blonde head bob out the door, I sat back down in my seat. There were three others with me, waiting for their scores as well.

I wanted to bite my nails. I had broken the habit long ago. My fingers went towards my mouth. I reconsidered, tucking my fingers underneath me instead. As the moderator graded the papers, I had too much time on my hands. I couldn’t decide what I was more nervous about—the test results, or Jake waiting for me. I began to consider what waited for me at home. The others got their tests one by one, leaving me last, sweating it out.

“Mrs. Hargett?”

Jumping from my seat, I went to the front of the room.

“Congrats—you passed.”

My heart caught in my throat.

She handed me the test with a bright red “Pass,” written across the top. “I’ll file the necessary paperwork for you and the certificate will come to your home in the mail. Congratulations.”

Grinning ear to ear, I gave my thanks and bounced from the room. I had passed the test, and I got to go tell Jake.

Practically skipping from the room, I slowed to a shuffle, knowing what I had coming to me.

* * *

Jake

After what felt like hours but could only have been minutes I was awoken by bright head lights. Startled, I leapt from my seat, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The light thud of a car door, then the turn of the knob—I never locked the door when I was home—and the opening of the door.

The cool night air breezed into the house with Buttercup. Her eyes went wide when she saw me. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too.”

Pink cheeked, she shut the door behind her.

“Where were you?”

“It’s a secret—I wanted to surprise you.”

“But you didn’t leave a note. You didn’t take your phone. I was worried sick.”

“I thought you’d be at baseball.”

“I told you this afternoon—last week was the last game of the season.”

“Oh—I must have not heard you.”

“Why didn’t you have your phone?”

“I was in a rush. I forgot it. But I didn’t turn around to get it because I thought you’d be at baseball till eleven.”

“It’s on the counter. You may have needed it, if not for me, for a flat tire, a carjacking, anything. You’d think with all the trouble you are already in over the Ryder thing, you’d have been more careful.”

Giving me a wary look, she skittered around me, into the kitchen. Pressing the buttons on the side of the phone, she looked up at me sheepishly, “The ringer was off.”

“Buttercup, do you know what it feels like to wait for hours for the love of your life, not knowing where they are, if they are okay?” I paced the living room floor, running my hand agitatedly through my hair.

“No.”

“No—you don’t. Because I would never be so thoughtless as to leave for the night with you having no idea of where I was or how to reach me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I came home. The door was unlocked. There was no note. No answer to my phone calls. Then I find your phone was on the counter. You were nowhere in sight. I honestly started to worry that you had been taken by Tom or been in an accident.”

“That’s ridiculous, Jake.”

“Wrong words, little girl.” My pacing stopped at the kitchen table. “Sit down.”

Buttercup scurried into the kitchen, sitting in the chair in front of me at the table. I rubbed at the burning on the back of my neck, trying to control my anger. “Ridiculous that I would worry that your crazy ex who we have a restraining order on came here and took you? Or am I ridiculous for thinking that you being gone for hours with no note, no phone… that you were hurt somewhere. Which one, Buttercup?”

“I didn’t mean you are ridiculous. I just meant, we haven’t seen Tom’s face since you ran him out of town—”

The rap of my knuckles against the oak table interrupted her sentence. “What is ridiculous, little lady, is your absolute disrespect for your personal safety.”

She sat silently, fully realizing what she had put me through this evening.

“You must have been worried sick,” she whispered.

Softening, I pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. “I was. And I want to be sure I will never have to worry like that again. Now, where the hell were you?”

She pulled a folded stack of papers from her purse. There was a red word across the top declaring, “Pass.”

I took the papers from her hands, reading the black print at the top of the page. “National Registry Exam. Buttercup—how did you take this class without me knowing? And you passed? Congratulations!” Pride swelled in my chest—momentarily making me forget my anger— knowing the unique challenges Buttercup had faced to achieve her dreams.

“The class lined up with baseball. I went with Cherry and was always back by ten. I stayed up late, studying, most nights after you fell asleep.”

“Why keep it a secret though, Buttercup?”

“You were just so proud of me when I passed the first one, and I knew this one was going to be so much more difficult. I really didn’t think I’d pass, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up to have to tell you I failed.”

“Buttercup, I’d be proud of you pass or fail. Just that you worked so hard to try and meet your goals.”

“I know.”

“A celebration is in order.” She looked up at me, hopeful I had forgotten her paddling. “Tomorrow we will celebrate your achievement. Tonight, we have a few issues to discuss.”

Buttercup’s green eyes popped open wide as she gave a gulp.

I pointed to the high, rounded arm of the couch. “I want you bared and bent over the arm of the couch. Now.”

Avoiding my gaze, she scurried over to the end of the couch.

Fumbling with the button of her jeans, she managed to get it undone and tugged the zipper down. Pulling her pants and panties down in one swoop, she shivered as the cool air hit her bare skin.

Buttercup bent over the soft arm of the couch, her stomach pressing in to the round arm. With her torso hanging over the couch, her hands pressed into its soft cushions. Dark hair fell on either side of her face like a curtain.

My wife. Baring herself to me for punishment. Nothing else could quite run a thrill through my hot blood as seeing her offering her body to me. Her shirt was falling down around her breasts, exposing her smooth white back. Her bare ass curved so perfectly, meeting the tops of her naked thighs. I smiled as she gave a deep sigh—awaiting her punishment.

I had always desired the love of a strong-willed woman who would submit to me. A woman who desired me to protect her—as well as correct her. A shiver of desire ran down my spine whenever I would catch a glimpse of a man lovingly correcting his wife. Whether it be a soft whisper in her ear that would make her blush, or even a simple raise of a stern brow. It made my balls tighten, my cock hardening in my pants. Envisioning him taking her home for a good, sound over the knee spanking.

And now, I was that man. The one guiding his overindulging wife from the party—firmly by the elbow—telling her she’d had enough. Those poor saps stuck at the party, their wives getting drunker and drunker. Speaking to their man disrespectfully. Making a fool of themselves. When everyone else at the party, or at least I, wanted that man to take that woman in hand and get her home.

I had a hand like a paddle. And since I met Buttercup, I had been able to put it to good use. Now, that she was my wife—to have and to hold forever—our relationship had grown into a marriage.

Approaching her I watched as a slight shiver ran down her spine, her skin breaking out in goose bumps. My tone was low and husky as I spoke, “Buttercup, you outright lied to me by not telling me Ryder had been coming around. And tonight—you gave me the scare of my life. I know you had a lot on your mind with the exam, but that is no excuse to disappear without a trace. I am going to thoroughly punish you and then send you to bed. I want you laying on your tummy thinking about your poor choices tonight. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” I brushed over the bare skin of her bottom, more goosebumps further dotting her skin. “This little bottom is going to be bright red when I am done.” It would be a beautiful cherry red that I would later catch her glimpsing at in the mirror.

Buttercup had directly disobeyed me. She had disregarded my rule of taking her phone with her. And she had to be punished. Standing over her I placed one hand on the small of her back, she gave a tremble beneath me. The other hand I rested on her bared bottom. “Buttercup. I am going to spank your bottom for the stunt you pulled tonight. Then, I will give you the paddling I promised you if you did not tell me about Ryder.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lifting my hand, I brought it down on the center of her left cheek. Then the right. I pressed harder into her lower back as my hand covered every inch of her beautiful bottom with stinging slaps. Her skin turning pink, her toes digging into the carpet, soft whines coming from her lips with each spank. This was no sensual spanking. This was a ‘listen to your man or face the consequences’, thrashing. Though I knew if I slid my fingers in her afterwards, my little Butterbaby’s pussy would be dripping. “Don’t you ever,” I lectured in between spanks, “leave this house again,” spank, spank, spank, “without leaving a note and taking your phone.”

“I won’t, I promise, Jake!” she cried. “I’ll always take my phone, I promise.”

I stopped, looking over her hot, red, skin. I was satisfied with her fist punishment. Leaving her hanging over the sofa, sniffling and shifting her weight from tiptoe to tiptoe, I went over to my special drawer, reserved for my implements. Opening the drawer, I took out the little blue paddle. I knew she dreaded it. Having only used it on her once before, the hard plastic had left a sting in her memory.

Her eyes wide, she looked over at me, her nose red from crying. “Not the paddle. Please Jake… I won’t ever do that again, I promise.”

The begging of her high, sweet voice tugged at my heart. But not enough to let her leave that couch without the lesson burned into her memory—as well as her ass. “Yes, the paddle. Big mistakes have big consequences.”

Buttercup hung her head back down, moaning.

“What did I tell you about Ryder?”

“That I was to tell you if I saw him or spoke to him.”

“And did you?”

“Noo,” she wailed.

“How many times, Buttercup? How many times did you see him or speak to him and not inform me of it?”

“I’m not sure. Once I bumped into him at the Five and Dime, and a couple times he drove by the building on my shift. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but he was harmless, just as I had told you. See? He was just wanting to get to know Cherry. Isn’t it romantic? It was harmless, but I’m sorry I disobeyed you and I’ll never do it again. Just please, no paddle—”

Whack!

I interrupted her with the paddle. “Five for the Five and Dime, five for the drive-bys. I know alls well that ends well and there was no real danger, but that doesn’t excuse you from lying.”

“Ten?” she moaned.

“Nine, now.” Whack, whack, whack. That blue paddle was small but man, it packed a sting. Her already reddened bottom was darkening with each smack of the paddle.

“Jaake!”

Whack, whack, whack. She was sobbing, lying limp over the couch. My heart tore but I kept my word. Whack, whack, whack. Her bottom was now an angry red.

“To show you how serious I am about this, I have a third punishment I am going to apply to this pretty little bottom.”

“Not more spanking!” she cried, tears in her voice.

“No.” Returning to my special drawer, I pulled out the shiny gold metal bullet. And a bottle of lube. “This is a bigger plug for your bottom. It will fill you up and remind you of your punishment.”

She had no words. Her eyes widened as I stood beside her, squeezing a clear gel to the tip of the instrument. Knowing where it was going, what had looked small and harmless now looked monstrous. But the punishment fit the crime.

“That is going… where?”

“In your bottom. My cock has already taken you there. You should be able to handle this little number.” She gulped, squeezing her eyes shut tight and turning her head away from the butt plug.

I moved behind her. Her beautiful red bottom on display for me. “I want you to grab both cheeks and spread them for me.”

“Jake—”

“Now.” Hesitantly, her hands reached behind her, grabbing both sides of her hot, sore flesh, and parting them for me. She gave a groan of shame as she exposed the most private place of her body.

There was her little pink rosebud, begging to be plugged. My cock hardened in my pants. Her vulva, slick with excitement despite her pain, fully visible.

“Relax,” I said. She took a deep breath, lowering herself from her tiptoes, planting her feet firmly into the carpet.

“Naughty girls get their bottoms punished—twice.”

“But you already punished me twice. Your hand and the paddle,” she weakly protested.

“I misspoke. Very naughty girls, such as yourself, get their bottoms punished—inside and out.”

A moan escaped her lips.

Holding up my finger, I squeezed a small amount of lube onto my fingertip. Stepping closer to her, I said, “Hold those cheeks further open for me. Spread those legs.” Her fingertips dug into her skin, obeying my command. Using my lubed finger, I reached down and up, pressing hard onto her clit. A gasp escaped her, her buttocks clenching. A sharp slap on her punished bottom fixed that. She jumped to attention, legs and bottom spread once more.

I pressed again. Now, a moan from her lips, her pussy clenching and getting wetter. Slowly, I trailed my slick finger from her clitoris, down, and plunged it hard within her.

“Oh, Jake,” she moaned, her head turning towards me, her dark hair falling to the side behind her face. Her checks were flushed, her pink mouth hanging open in pleasure. I slid my finger out, she held her breath. I plunged it in again, this time, my thumb pressing onto her clit.

She was up on her tiptoes again, moaning and writhing, her pussy dripping wet and wrapping itself tightly around my finger. But she held her bottom open and kept her legs apart like a good girl.

My finger slid out of her, Buttercup giving a dissatisfied sigh.

“Bad little girls like you don’t get to come, my dear. Have you forgotten you’re being punished?”

“No, sir?” she said, with what sounded like shock in her voice.

“Surely,” she was saying to herself, “He couldn’t be that mean, could he?”

Oh yes, I most certainly could. This would be a lesson she would not soon forget.

I lubed my finger once more, prepared to enter her rosebud.

The gasping mew she elicited the minute my finger penetrated her anus confirmed what I already knew. “My girl likes to have her naughty bottom played with. Let’s see how she likes being plugged—with no orgasm in sight.”

A whine came from the couch. I held back a chuckle. Withdrawing my finger, I pressed the lubed, cold tip of the gold bullet at the entrance of her bottom. “Jake, I don’t know about this—”

“You don’t get to choose, sweetie. When you put yourself in danger, break the rules, and are MIA for over four hours, you take what you get. Or we can have another session with the paddle after you are plugged until you understand that. Would you like that?”

“No, sir!” she shook her dark hair, emphasizing her obedience. “I’ll take the… plug.”

“Good girl. Now relax.”

She took a deep breath. I pressed just the tip in, making her squirm. A slap to the ass and a growled warning, “Stay still,” had her perfectly frozen in place.

Slowly and gently, I pushed the narrow tip of the plug into the center of her rosebud. The tight muscles protested, but I would have my way. She gasped as the cold metal shaft entered her rectum. Her muscles clenched around it. With a few more gentle pushes, I had the plug all the way in her stretched bottom, the gold end glinting at me under the lamp light.

Her pussy was dripping.

“Stay just like that with your hands on your bottom.” Giving her one final look, her plugged, red ass high in the air, her hands spreading her cheeks, her legs spread, her bare skin, the dark hair. The shamed flushing cheeks of her face. The bright, shiny, teary eyes filled with desire. She was perfect. My heart swelled in my chest. My wife.

I put everything back in the drawer, then went to the kitchen, to wash my hands, and to let her sweat it out.

Returning to her, I pulled up her panties only and said, “You can stand up.”

Her hands twitched as if to rub at her hot flesh or take out the butt plug. But my obedient wife kept her hands to her sides—she knew what the punishment was for rubbing.

Turning her towards me, I reached down and pulled up her jeans. Her chest pressed against mine, her nipples stiff peaks through her shirt as I reached down, zipping and buttoning her jeans. Leaning down, our chests still pressed together, she gave a delicious shiver as I whispered, “Are you going to be a good girl now?”

Her head against my shoulder, she gave a small nod.

“And do as I say, and leave a note and take your phone when you leave this house?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“Good girl.” I patted her hip. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Her big, shining green eyes looked up at me pleadingly. She was disappointed there would be no lovemaking tonight, her pussy aching with desire. Instead of my loving touch, bringing her to orgasm, she would spend the night plugged with a sore ass and a wet pussy.

Taking her hand, I led her to our bedroom. With each step she took I knew she could feel the fullness of the plug, her muscles tightening around it.

In the bedroom I found the gown I wanted her to wear. Thin white cotton, with a little lace and tiny pink bow around the scooped neckline. “Lift your arms.”

She did, a look of love in her eyes. Raising the material from her waist, I lifted the shirt up and off, exposing her bra and bare midriff. Reaching around her back, I unhooked her lacy bra, letting her breasts spring free from the cups. The straps of the bra slid down her arms and to the floor. My mouth instantly went to her left breast, taking her nipple in my mouth and giving a suck and light nibble.

Kneeling, I kissed my way down her soft stomach, then unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Pulling the denim down and over her ass, she sucked air in-between her teeth as the rough material dragged across her sore skin. Holding onto her hands, I helped her to step out of the jeans, one leg at a time.

I stood, taking in the sight of bare breasted Buttercup, wearing nothing but a simple pair of panties. “These will have to go, too,” I said, hooking my fingers in the elastic waist. “I want to see that cherry red bottom while you are sleeping.

She gave a shiver, her cheeks flushing. I pulled the panties off and she stepped out of them as well. Leaving her naked, I picked up and folded the discarded clothing enjoying the view of her bare pussy and breasts as I did.

She lifted her arms. I helped her into the gown. It gave a light swish as it fell into place. The white material stopped just above her knees, the lacy edging brushing against her thigh. The low neckline showed the tops of her pert breasts, her hard nipples barely visible through the thin material. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders. She looked like an angel.

“Beautiful,” I murmured. Taking her hand, I led her to the bed. Drawing back the covers, I told her to lay down on her tummy. She obeyed. Lifting the gown, I brought it up around her waist. Her bare bottom had faded to a dark pink, matching the rose glow of her cheeks.

Buttercup’s face rested on her pillow, her big green eyes looked up at me, I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bent down to place a soft kiss upon her cheek. “Let me just check your plug.”

Her eyes closed in embarrassment, her lids shutting tight and her nose crinkling. Gently, I separated her cheeks. The golden base of the plug winked back at me. “Good to go,” I mused, patting her bottom lightly. “Goodnight, Buttercup.”

* * *

Buttercup

Lying next to me in only his pajama pants, Jake was asleep within minutes. I could not sleep. I lay there, on my tummy, my bottom still hot. My bottom hole filled and clenched. My pussy burning and slick and throbbing for relief.

I tried to think about being good. How much I had worried Jake. But the only thing I could think about was his cock. How big it was. How hard it got. How it felt when he teased me, holding it just at the entrance of my pussy just before he plunged it within. My pussy clenching around it.

How it felt when I finally orgasmed.

I couldn’t take it.

Tentatively, I laid my hand on Jake’s shoulder. I felt him sigh a deep sigh. Turning over, facing me, his eyes were still closed.

“Jake…” I began. He stretched as he roused from his slumber. “Jake—"

His mouth was on mine before I could speak another word. His bare, broad chest hovered over me as he kissed me with the urgency of unmet needs. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the kiss. As I closed my eyes, the tears were forced from them, leaking from the corners of my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. Jake’s mouth moved from mine, kissing a trail across my cheek. I felt the tip of his tongue lick away my tear.

His hot breath caressed my ear as the thick emotion in his voice whispered, “I love you, Buttercup. I will never stop loving you.” The hardness of his manhood pressed against me as his whispers continued in my ear. “I want you, wife of mine.”

The words had my legs spreading without a command. One hand by my head supporting his weight, Jake’s warm eyes stared into my weeping ones—I was wrought with emotion— as his other hand easily slipped off his thin pajama pants. His warm, bare skin pressed against my bare legs as he lifted my gown—knowing I was bare beneath.

My knees lifted, my legs spreading further, my core begging him to enter. His eyes locked on mine and never wavered as he slid the tip of his member to my entrance, pressing it there but not entering. “Mine,” he said, plunging within.

“Oh,” I moaned, my eyes closing and my head lolling back.

He thrust within me again. My legs wrapped around his waist, tightly, my ankles crossing over his lower back.

“Again,” I whispered.

He thrust himself within me, filling me, stretching me. When the full length of him was within me, he stopped, holding himself there. Plugged from behind and my vagina full of him, I was in ecstasy.

I squirmed, my hips moving underneath him. “Again,” I begged.

Jake continued to pump within me, my legs tightening around his waist, his kisses deepening as we both rose to climax. Shuddering, we cried out together as we came.

Collapsing on his side of the bed, he gathered me into his arms. He murmured sleepily, “You know I love you?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

His hand wound its way around my hair, pulling tightly and tugging at the back of my neck. My skin burned, my core melted.

“You know I want what’s best for you?”

“Yes,” my word was a whisper.

His cheek pressed against mine. His arm wound tighter around my shoulders, the hand in my hair remained.

“Always and forever.” He was asleep within seconds.