Page 29 of Black Light: The Crossover
They were both in a sort of stunned silence after her outburst, trying to choose their next words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was throw gas on the already smoldering argument brewing.
“I don’t have time for this shit, Lukus. I have several dozen holiday cookies to be making!” This time she was shouting.
Lukus yanked his massaging hands away from her, now trying to rein in his own growing anxiety. He pushed to his feet, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair as he paced in front of the love seat, doing his best not to lose his temper as he looked down at the milky-white curves of the woman he loved.
The fucking holidays were a hell of a lot easier when I was a bachelor.
He called bullshit on himself immediately. While it was true that life had been less complicated when he was single, it had also grown lonely and shallow before Tiffany had literally crashed into his life.
Marriage may have taken some of the edge off his Master’s Master persona but lucky for his sub, it hadn’t squelched his dominance completely.
It looked like she was in desperate need of a reminder of the dynamic she’d agreed to when she’d taken his collar and wedding ring.
While Tiff had resumed pulling on her restraints in a misguided attempt to break free, Lukus walked to the bag he’d placed on the coffee table in front of the love seat. He unzipped the duffle and peered in on the plethora of implements at his disposal.
He’d be lying if he said the idea of delivering a well-deserved discipline session to his wife’s perfect ass didn’t excite him. Tiff so rarely did anything that deserved punishment, and while being angry and upset about how much she had on her plate didn’t rise to the definition of punishment worthy, ignoring and insulting her Dom by continuously biting back at his attempts to talk through her concerns certainly did.
His decision made, a calmness he’d missed settled into his chest. He knew the way forward.
He was just finishing lining up the tools of his trade when Tiffany’s muffled “Lukus?” broke the silence between them. In her upside down, prone position, he was glad she couldn’t see the small smile on his face at recognizing the tremble in her voice.
“Sorry Tiff, Lukus had to leave,” he answered with the chilly tone of voice he most often used during center-stage shows at The Punishment Pit seven stories below them. “You’re stuck with your Master now. I’d already warned you, so I’ll be adding strokes for your continued disrespect when addressing me.”
“Lukus…Sir… Shit, I’m sorry, but you can’t seriously want to punish me for being in a bad mood,” she whined.
“Oh baby, I can assure you I’m very serious about punishing you, but for something much more dire than your shitty mood.” When she didn’t ask, he added, “I love you and that sassy charm of yours, but you seem to have forgotten I won’t put up with outright rude disobedience. Lucky for you, I am more than happy to provide corrective lessons whenever needed. Like now.”
Tiffany’s pulls against the cuffs holding her splayed open across the back of the couch intensified as Lukus picked up the first of the many tools of his trade he’d be putting into use. Her head lifted off the cushion as she frantically tried to glimpse what he was up to.
Once behind the couch, he took a moment to enjoy the view of his wife’s slick cunt spread open for him.
Patience… you have a few more important body parts that need your attention before you get to tap into that.
Lukus palmed her pale ass cheeks, enjoying his up close inspection of her pristine bottom before he got to work turning it a beautiful shade of Christmas red.
“Please… you don’t have to do this…”
“Oh, but I do,” he answered just before starting her warm up. As much as she deserved this punishment, he knew the most important goal of the discipline session was tearing down her layers of stress and anxiety so she could have a nice, cathartic cry.
The hardcore sadist in him couldn’t wait to hear her begging… her tears… the sounds of the paddle doing its job. Only then would he get to the part of this corrective scene where he got to fuck his sub hard and long while he palmed her freshly punished flesh. On cue, his cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans, demanding attention.
Lukus didn’t bother counting. He just got to work with his flat palm, swatting her curvy cheeks—left, right, and sit spots.
“Please! I’m sorry!” Her voice sounded an entire octave higher than normal as she begged him to stop already.
“I’m sure you are, but it’s a bit too late for that, baby.” He paused to deliver a volley of fast and hard spanks before adding, “But we’re just getting started here. Be grateful I’m giving you a nice warm-up.”
“Believe me, there is nothing nice about it!Sir!”
Christ, he loved her sass. The woman was fearless. It was just one of the million things he loved about the love of his life.
“You may not see it yet, but believe me… tonight when your beautiful ass is still burning as we go to bed, you’ll not only remember, but you’ll happily thank me for your punishment from on your knees.”
Tiff chuckled between her grunts of growing pain. “Since when is letting you face-fuck me a punishment?”
Fearless. Before Tiffany, her banter in the face of a Lukus Mitchell punishment would have infuriated him. Today, it reminded him how lucky he was to find the yin to his yang.
He reached for the long wooden paddle he knew Tiff hated with a passion. He’d considered using his belt or a strap, but his adorable wife secretly loved having her ass kissed by his leather.
