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The Obedient Wife




  The Obedient Wife

  By

  Carolyn Faulkner

  ©2012 by Blushing Books® and Carolyn Faulkner

  Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Carolyn Faulkner

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

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  Faulkner, Carolyn

  The Obedient Wife

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-617-8

  Cover Art by Owlight Designs

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Carolyn Faulkner

  The words “spanking” and “discipline” have always sent a shiver up Carolyn Faulkner's spine.

  She knows she's not alone.

  Writing started as a way to explore her feelings. Soon short stories flowed from her pen featuring reluctant heroes taking the leading lady in hand, but always for her own good.

  Today Carolyn is the author of dozens of books. She writes from her home in Maine, where she lives with her husband and leading man.

  Visit her website here:

  http://carolynfaulkner.com

  Don’t miss these exciting titles by Carolyn Faulkner!

  A Hard Man is Good to Find

  To Trust Her Heart

  Body and Soul

  A Good Man

  Chapter I

  The text was short and sweet. It simply said now.

  Unable to stop herself, Ginger looked around surreptitiously, as if someone else in the office could somehow have read - and correctly interpreted the meaning of - her husband’s command.

  Luckily - although she was in a cubicle like almost everyone else on the fourth floor of the mill building her bank had converted into administrative offices several years ago - hers was a bit away from everyone else, so no one noticed when she grabbed her purse and headed for the ladies’ room.

  Behind the closed door of the stall, she removed two silver bullet shaped items from where she’d hidden them deep in the recesses of what her husband liked to refer to as her “suitcase”, positioning them exactly as she had been told to do this morning, as he had looked into her eyes sternly, holding her chin in place so that she couldn’t help but gaze steadily the long way back up at him, her bottom lip actively worried between her teeth.

  “Because you know that if you don’t insert them, the entire floor is going to hear them buzzing in your purse.”

  Ginger had frowned. She hadn’t thought about that. Not that she had been planning to circumvent his order. . .necessarily. But she wasn’t much of a fan when he occasionally asked her to do things like this, mostly because she knew that he really wasn’t asking. He fully expected that she would do exactly as she was told, and somehow, he always knew when she hadn’t. Whether she had disobeyed in a big or the smallest way - and she knew he would point out to her, as he always did, that the size of the indiscretion didn’t matter much to him - he was able to look into her eyes and somehow intuit just how obedient she’d been.

  Or not.

  And she had to admit that he was depressingly accurate.

  Very depressingly, because, although she had been submissive to him practically from the moment she’d met him - to her considerable alarm at first - she was far from perfectly behaved, even almost a decade later.

  In this he had been very right: there was no way she was going to take the chance that anyone at work was going to hear those two not so little metal capsules buzzing around - louder than any cell phone vibrated and clanging together noisily in the bottom of her purse. She knew her best friend Charlene would be like a bloodhound if that happened, and Ginger didn’t feel like having to explain their presence to anyone - especially not to Charlene, who could be a bit of a nosey body when she wanted to.

  When she got back to her desk - after wondering with every step how she was going to get any work done with those things nestling intimately inside her; and they weren’t even on yet - she texted him back “done,” then put her phone back in her purse, where it lived while she worked. Her boss was pretty laid back about cell phones as long as you didn’t spend much work time on them. And Ginger was enough of a type A that she barely ever saw Rafe, since she certainly didn’t need to be coached to finish her work. She often completed her own and then offered to help others.

  Ginger wasn’t quite sure how she’d lucked into this position, but, as unambitious as it sounded, she intended to retire out of it, if possible. It was the perfect job for her: people left piles of work on her desk and she mowed her way happily through them, mostly on autopilot, which freed her mind to think of anything else.

  Luckily there wasn’t anyone at work who was as attuned to her mind as Sean was or they’d be very thoroughly mortified by what they saw most times, she
was sure.

  Hell, she’d bet a year’s salary that no one here would ever begin to guess that she was submissive to her husband. If anything, those who hadn’t met Sean would probably think she was his domme, because at work she was completely no-nonsense. She didn’t spend her time hanging around the copier, the lunch room or in the bathroom, like most others did. Her breaks were exactly fifteen minutes long, her lunch thirty and not a minute longer. She hadn’t missed a day in seven years, and she didn’t intend to start. If there was something that she thought could be done in a more efficient manner, she shot the boss an email, and then let it go, never agonizing about whether her suggestions were implemented, although the majority of them had been.

  Ginger had been offered multiple promotions and had flatly declined each one of them. She knew from previous experience what management was like and refused to sign on for those headaches. They didn’t need the money, and she didn’t need the stress.

  She’d been forbidden, anyway, for the latter reason. Sean had come awfully close to not allowing her to work at all, especially when the bank was going through a conversion - absorbing another bank - and her nice, pat routine had been thrown into a chaos of preparation, meetings, and thrice the normal workload.

  But he hadn’t - yet. He knew that she needed that social outlet. They tended - as a couple - to be quite insular and occasionally spent long stretches where they rarely saw each other. She’d had a good-sized circle of friends before they’d met that had dwindled considerably once they’d become involved. Considering the lifestyle they lived, though, he was very careful not to let her to become isolated.

  Of course, whether she was allowed to go out with friends was always predicated on her good behavior. She was, for the most part, very well behaved - almost too much so for his tastes.

  Usually.

  Of course, she, like any other human - female in particular, Sean often thought to himself - had those times when doing as she was told just seemed like an impossibility. On those days in particular he was genuinely surprised by the things at which she balked - usually it was the most perfunctory of things. Oftentimes it was a longstanding rule - one that she’d never had a problem with before. Like making sure that the dishwasher was emptied in morning - or completely ignoring the bedtime he’d put in place for her.

  Or denying him access to her body, as she had tried - unsuccessfully, of course - the night before last.

  Sean wasn’t one to drag out punishments - he preferred to take care of situations as they occurred. Sean preferred that there was as little time as possible between the unfortunate incident of misbehavior and the correction thereof, although despite his best efforts, circumstances occasionally prevented the swift punishment of misdeeds.

  Tonight, however, there would be no such reprieve - short of nuclear war.

  As Ginger reached the next Visa dispute file folder and pulled up the spreadsheet to log it in, her mind already wandering back to the events of last night, she received a tangible confirmation that he had read her text: her entire lower body began to vibrate. Not violently, not uncomfortably.

  Not uncomfortably at all, damn it!

  Those little contraptions were wireless, of course, and she knew that he was holding the tiny remote to them in his big hands at this exact second, dwarfing the tiny flat piece of plastic, yet manipulating the buttons as deftly as he did her body.

  Ginger wasn’t at all sure she could continue to work while he was setting her crotch ablaze long distance, and her mind’s dwelling on the events of the previous evening didn’t help at all.

  She had been grumpy when he’d picked her up - the little sports car he’d bought her was in the shop. He knew it the moment he’d seen her stalk out of the building. She’d sent her purse flying into the back seat, nearly beheading him in the process, then slumped in her seat in glaring silence, barely bothering with her seatbelt.

  So, contrarian that he was, he pulled into the first parking lot he could find and leaned over to her, dragging her into his arms. If he’d had a little less confidence in himself, or they’d been a newer couple, he might have worried and thought he had reason to reconsider their relationship.

  They’d been together too long for that, and he knew that when she got quiet like this, it was always about work. Although Ginger was the tightest-lipped woman he’d ever been involved with, he would never allow her to ignore him, no matter how bad her day had been.

  She didn’t actively fight him. She’d long since realized that that was a complete waste of energy, and would only get her into trouble. But she didn’t wrap her arms around him like she usual, lying like a lump in his arms as he smothered her face with kisses and said annoyingly pleasant things to her in a Pollyanna-ish tone that he knew she detested.

  “It’s so good to see you! You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since this morning. I could barely get any work done at all with visions of your lovely bottom popping into my mind at all sorts of inopportune times . . .”

  Although Ginger knew that most women would kill to hear things like that from their man, she remained stubbornly silent and refused to respond to his kisses. But she also knew that he would keep this up indefinitely until she acknowledged his efforts. They’d remain in this parking lot until she did so.

  There was no such thing as out-waiting him, as she always had her parents. If she was stubborn, he was a million times more so, and she’d not managed to best him yet.

  She’d also learned better than to try to manipulate him or back him into any kind of a corner. He made quite sure that she never liked the results of such machinations.

  Sean brought her back to his front, those big, muscular arms of his wrapping all the way around her, holding her tight and silently conveying both his unconditional support as well as the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere until he decided to allow her to do so.

  Ginger gave a long-suffering sigh and slumped against him.

  “So what’s going on with that frown, hmmmm? Do I need to tell you to quit?”

  “No!”

  He’d known she was going to say that, but he’d asked as a way of reminding her that he was keeping that option very open.

  Sean shrugged exaggeratedly, deliberately nudging his broad shoulder against her much smaller one every few seconds to annoy her into talking to him.

  “Well? What’s up? Hmmm? Huh? Hmmm?” He emphasized each query with a kiss. “Is there someone I need to deck for you? Rafe, perhaps?”

  Ginger knew he was only half-kidding. He would much have preferred that she had a female boss instead of one who was nearly as dominant as he was. “No, of course not. I just can’t seem to get ahead, you know? I bust my butt all day to clear out my inbox, and this afternoon Rafe comes around and fills it back up, worse than it was before.”

  At this point in the conversation, Sean had learned, and wisely so, to keep his trap firmly shut rather than point out to his adorable wife the dichotomy of the fact that what she liked most about this job - that she was left alone to get piles of work done - was exactly what she was bitching to him about. If he’d been younger, he might have jumped in and tried to help her solve her nonexistent problem with suggestions about time management - things she already knew and wasn’t interested in hearing again.

  He’d learned from his mistakes and simply hugged her even more tightly, reiterating in a low growl his offer to command her to stop.

  His efforts earned him a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Cut that out! You are so annoying when you do that.” But at least she was turning within his arms as she insulted him, cuddling more closely up against his side.

  “Besides,” he continued, “no one is supposed to bust your butt but me.”

  “No, you’re not!” she replied vehemently.

  “I most definitely am, woman, and, if I recall correctly, we’re scheduled to have a talk before bedtime tonight, although I don’t think I’m going to let it go that long.”

  “No, we’re not!” She knew sh
e sounded like the petulant three year old he often compared her to, but Ginger hated bedtime - or any time - talks. They nearly always resulted in her sniffling her way to sleep, on her side, her roasted red bottom too sore to touch even their expensive sheets.

  Well, truthfully, there was hate and then there was hate, but she wasn’t interested in examining the fact that her body loved any and all of the attentions he lavished on it, even the more painful ones.

  He might say “especially the more painful ones,” but she would argue that point.

  Being spanked by him definitely qualified as the latter. Just thinking about it had her squirming against him, as if he’d already applied his hand - or her hairbrush or any of the other horrid implements he kept hidden about the place - to what she considered to be her overly generous backside.

  He kept her clamped to his side as he pulled back out into traffic, giving her a glance that snapped her mouth shut so quickly that her teeth hurt. Sean’s patience could be limitless at times, when she really needed it, but this was not one of those times.

  When they arrived at their good-sized cabin in the deep woods - which he had bought precisely because of its remote location - he preceded her into the house. That was always his custom, just in case of an intruder, a bear nosing around for food, or, even more likely, a raccoon doing the same thing. Sean was a cop now, and had been one in the military. That experience had made him obsessivly cautious where her safety was concerned, and he liked to be the first one in, just in case. Ginger had thought it an interesting quirk when they’d first begun dating, and now it just made her feel treasured, just as he always made sure that she was comfortable, temperature-wise, rather than adjusting the thermostat to his own preferences.