Page 101 of Keep Me

Emphatically, she nods.

“Use your words, wife.”

“Yes,” she answers without hesitation.

Kneeling down, I trail my lips along the inside of her legs, kissing from her ankles to her knees and all the way to the apex of her thighs. She squirms restlessly, but I don’t let myself get carried away.

Sitting upright, I let my fingers graze the skin of her knee. “Your safe word will bered, understand? If you want me to stop at any point, just sayred, and I’ll stop.”

Breathing heavily, she nods. “I understand.”

“That’s my girl.” Her expressions softens at the praise. “Now, get on your knees.”

I can tell a part of Sylvie struggles with taking a command. It’s not what she’s used to. She’s gone too long fighting alone in herlife that she’s never built up enough trust to allow anyone control over her, but this relief is what she needs.

To let someone else make her decisions. To let someone else carry her pain.

And I will be that for her. I will never let my wife feel alone ever again.

Obediently, she climbs from a lying position and kneels in front of me. Although I’m kneeling as well, I still tower over her, so when she gazes up at me, I pet her hair back from her face and plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Hands on the bedpost.”

I watch her throat work as she swallows. Then she turns toward the head of the bed and places her hands on the wood. Climbing from the bed, I go to the bottom drawer of my dresser. There, I find the smooth paddle with a soft leather handle.

I catch her watching me as I pull it from the drawer.

“We’re going to go easy tonight, Sylvie. You’ve been through a lot today, but you asked me to make it hurt, and I will.”

I watch as goose bumps erupt along her back. She shivers in anticipation as I climb onto the bed behind her, stroking a hand softly along her bare back.

“I’m not going to strap you to the bed. But you won’t let go of that headboard, understand me?”

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“Grip it nice and tight, my love.”

She shivers again.

Before I rear back the paddle and let it fly, I slide my hand over her ass. “Let me hear you say it one more time, Sylvie. Tell me you trust me.”

Turning her attention back to me, she looks into my eyes as she says, “I trust you.”

“Good. Now let me hear you scream.”

The paddle lands with a deafening smack against her tender white flesh. She lets out a gasp, flying forward from the force ofthe hit. I watch as the blood rushes to the spot where the paddle landed, turning her right ass cheek a lovely shade of pink.

“One,” I say before rubbing the spot.

Rearing back my hand, I let it fly again. This time, she lets out a yelp. Her knuckles have turned white where they’re gripping the headboard.

“Two.”

On the third hit, Sylvie cries out louder, and squeezes her face in anguish.

She’s so strong. She won’t even let me see her pain. Eventually she will.

Her expression doesn’t change much through the fourth or fifth hit, but by the sixth, her sounds grow louder.

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