The Plumber's Daughter Ch. 03

I checked my makeup several times to make sure that it was perfect and then put on my perfume, "Chanel Chance" before going downstairs to wait for Patrick's return.

Patrick loved this scent when I first wore it for him, but now he was angry. There was no telling when Patrick was getting back from his walk. No matter, I was ready to make up to him, and smelling nice couldn't hurt.

I had a hard time sitting still while I waited. I turned on the television, distracted, not really watching anything in particular. Patrick was going to spank me. I just knew it. I had better make up my mind what I wanted to do. Patrick had been so patient with me up until now. Nevertheless, I was a grown woman and a spanking was inappropriate, wasn't it?

But it would only hurt for a little while. I'm sure that Patrick wouldn't leave bruises; he isn't that type of man. A spanking might actually do me some good, to remind me to behave. After my spanking came the making up part, from my well deserved punishment. I started to get aroused thinking about that, the making up part after my spanking...OK, I admit it, think about being spanked by him turned me on...just a little.

I went to the bookcase and took out all of his family photo albums. Maybe they will help me with my decision to submit to a spanking. Patrick was giving me a choice and would live with his decision, even if it broke his heart.

****************************

As I passed Susan's house, I was thinking, 'Well, at least Marie didn't break the skin, but it did hurt like hell.'

All married people have their fights and differences. It is how you handle them that counts. When I was angry with my wife, and those times were rare, I always went for a walk or a ride on my scoot. Tonight it was a walk.

I'll never completely understand women. Did Marie have it in the back of her mind that I threw a poke into Susan while I was there? That scenario was cooked up between her and Sam to break my balls. Was that it? Their little joke had backfired?

Did I hug Susan? Yes I did. I also kissed Susan's cheek before I left. I told Susan that I had feelings for her, feelings of friendship and loyalty; she seemed to understand. Susan will keep her word and not try and come between us. Susan kept her distance while Anne and I were married.

God forbid that anything happens to Marie. I have to admit to myself now that if it did, or we broke up, Susan was a good match for me. Everything is so complicated. I hate to hurt Susan but what can I do except be honest with her, I owed Susan that. I didn't want to hurt her and I didn't want her to wait for me. Susan deserved to be happy. If I had a big ego, I would be happy to have two women who wanted me that way. I am not happy about it. Perhaps I am a heel? I don't mean to be.

Well, a spanking always worked with Anne. Afterward neither of us dwelt on it. We never dug up old bones to chew on. Making up with Anne, usually a day or two later was always the best part of the spanking.

*********************

Looking out the window, I saw Patrick approaching in the distance. I checked my makeup one last time, and refreshed my red lipstick while Patrick checked on the horses. My Blue Knight had a very serious look on his face when he walked into the kitchen. I could tell that Patrick was no longer angry, his eyes always give him away.

Patrick stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, at parade rest; once a Marine always a Marine. I saw his pictures in the photo album. Patrick looked so handsome in his dress uniform, and I love him so much.

I put my arms around his neck and kissed his lips and said, "I'm sorry, Patrick."

"You look lovely, Marie. What are you wearing? I have never seen that sexy night wear before," and I was thinking, 'You haven't, then where did it come from?'

"I found it in the bottom drawer of the dresser. Are you still angry with me?"

"No, Marie, but I have to do what is necessary so that you will remember to take me seriously. You are not a child. Adults have choices. Adults must face the consequences for their actions. There are some things that I won't stand for...even from you."

"You are going to spank me aren't you?" I asked, kissing his lips again.

"Yes, my love. You have left me little choice."

"Do you believe me when I say I am sorry?"

"I accept your contrition, Marie, your apology... but as a Catholic, you of all people know penance always follows contrition."

"Just your hand?" I asked.

"Yes, applied to your bare bottom and I will not leave bruises. It is going to hurt," Patrick assured me, offering me his strong callused hand and I took it.

*************************

When I arrived home, I found Marie waiting in the kitchen. Marie spent her time well in the 3 hours that I was gone. My love looked incredibly hot and sexy, most distracting which was no doubt her battle plan all along, subterfuge. I knew that much about women anyway.

Nevertheless, operation bare bottom was about to commence. Marie said she was sorry and I believed her. Marie is anything but a liar. My Queen is strong willed; has a temper and a saucy mouth, and perhaps is a bit spoiled. Marie also has a loving sweetness that has stolen my heart. My Queen loves and trusts me. That was confirmed when Marie gave me her little hand.

***********************

Patrick sat on a kitchen chair and made me lay across his lap and holding me in place with his left hand. He pulled my chemise up but didn't bother removing my G-String. What was the point; both my ass cheeks were fully exposed to his good right hand.

"There is no turning back now, Marie. I'm going to hold you in place if a have too. You are going to count to twelve," SLAP, and the sudden pain made me gasp. Patrick would sometimes slap my ass playfully, just a tap, but now he was barely holding back.

"You will count Marie," SLAP, "Count Marie. Do you want me start over with one?" SLAP "Three," I blurted out, through my tears, SLAP.... "Four," the slaps were six seconds apart, and by SLAP, "six" I was sobbing openly like a child, receiving a child's punishment.

My bottom was beet red and stinging terribly, SLAP, "seven"...SLAP, "eight", I was determined to submit to my punishment without shirking, SLAP, "nine"....SLAP, "Patrick stop..."SLAP," please, stop!"

"Did I hear you say one, Marie?"

"Eleven, I said eleven!" my bottom was on fire, SLAP.... "Twelve" and then I went limp on Patrick's lap, my sobs wracking my body, my tears soaking into his blue jeans, grateful that it was over. Patrick rubbed my back until I stopped crying.

Patrick let me up from his lap and we stood facing one another. My mascara was running, my makeup was smeared, and I looked terrible.

"I must look terrible," I said, taking a deep breath, while wiping my face with my hand.

"I'm proud of you, Marie. You took your punishment like a lady," and then Patrick took a wet dishtowel and wiped all the makeup from my face, staining it red from my lipstick.

"I have to tell you something," I said. I was not sure how well Patrick would take it? He just spanked me for god's sake.

"What is it, Marie? You can tell me anything you know?" said Patrick, pulling me close and rubbing my back.

"I'm horny."

"Yes, Marie, I know; I can smell your sweet, musky woman's scent enhanced to perfection by your perfume. I love that perfume on you."

"Then you don't think it strange that I get aroused being spanked?"

"Not at all; you are a complicated passionate woman, Marie Antoinette. If anything, I'm intrigued."

"Do you know what I think, Blue Knight?"

"What do you think, my Queen, do you want to make love now?"

"I'm still a little sore, but yes, you will be gentle, won't you?"

*************************

Marie is absolutely amazing. My brave Queen took her punishment, and I didn't have to hold her down. Marie now fascinates me more than ever. OK, I admit it. Some small part of me enjoyed spanking Marie. It was erotic and enjoyable that Marie submitted to me, I admit that too.

As I held my Marie gently, rubbing her back, I was thinking, 'Thank God that I will never fully understand women, as it was intended to be. Marie is just full of surprises, how can I possibly stay angry with her?

I wonder what possessed Marie to shave her pussy. I like it this way. Marie has such a nice plump pussy lips that were hidden under all that hair. Now I really can't wait to taste her. I wonder if Marie will let me shave her; hey, I like that idea.'

"Your wish is my command, my Queen." We went upstairs to our bedroom and I undressed. Marie turned back the covers and got into bed, touching her bright pink bottom and wincing.

************************

Patrick was a gentle as a lamb as we lay on our sides facing each other, slowly making love. How I needed Patrick's kisses that night, and afterward we lay there close, and discussed our first adventure together in a few days when Sam brought the boarded horses back to his farm now that the barn roof was almost finished.

We would visit my parents , hopefully spending a few days with them. Patrick could sleep on the couch and I could have one of the bedrooms. There would be no sleeping together, assuming that Dad allowed Patrick in the house at all.

We would then drive to Long Island and spend two weeks there. Patrick was excited about being able to spend time on the ocean on our private beach.

Patrick said that he always wanted to build an ornate sand castle like you see on television or in magazines. The closest that he got to that were piles of stones on the creek bank. I wanted to make love on the beach in the moonlight.

We also planned on renting a U-Haul Truck and driving it back ourselves to bring his horse and any furniture or clothing that I wanted to bring back with me to our farm. After two wonderful weeks at our second home in Long Island, and I'll get to that later, we left for our farm.

We took our time driving back. There were more people that Patrick wanted me to meet on the way. Patrick also said that we would be able to just make it to a dynamite ox roast fundraiser that a Presbyterian Church put on every year, and then a few days later, an Oktoberfest Fundraiser at another Church.

In between those mentioned events we were involved in a minor motor vehicle accident in the parking lot of a Restaurant where we just had dinner. Things got out of hand and the Sheriff was called.

They were short handed when we got to the Catholic Church. Patrick and I put on aprons and pitched in. We waited on tables, serving Knockwurst, Bratwurst, with sauerkraut with potatoes and pitchers of beer; it was fun.

Afterward, we sat in the church kitchen with the Father Dennis, who Patrick always addressed as Pastor Dennis, and the parish workers. We ate the leftovers, drank beer, and we talked and laughed. We also spent the night sleeping over at Jim & Bea's house, new friends that we just met at the Oktoberfest.

It turned out that Jim and Bea did Civil War Reenactments, and Jim's Great Great-Grandfather fought in the Battle of Bull Run. Jim showed us the sword used in the battle. Patrick agreed to repair the handle in consideration for 2 dozen of Bea's cinnamon buns, the ones she served us for breakfast the following morning before we left.

************************

My parents were waiting for us in the driveway when we arrived. There was plenty of room. A motorcycle doesn't take up much space. I didn't tell my parents that we would be arriving that way. I wanted to surprise them, and boy, did we.

I have never had so much fun traveling in all my life while riding behind my man on that red horse. That rumbling, throaty engine vibrating between my legs feels so good, as does holding onto Patrick as I sit behind him. The wind in my face and the freedom of the open road felt so liberating.

The hell with leather corsets! I look hot in my fitted black leather jacket and snug fitting blue jeans; Patrick says so. I'm his biker babe, right down to the black lace up boots. If some of those snooty women I once dealt with in the Art Gallery could see me now?

We took a roundabout way to my parent's house, taking three days to see the sights when it was really only seven hours of straight driving.

I never realized how many small picturesque towns were in New York, and I was amazed of all the friends that Patrick and his wife made when visiting them. Part of the reason for all the stops were for introductions so that Patrick could show me off.

We stayed in a New York State Park at the Glenn Iris Inn on our first night, and then at a small bed and breakfast on the Hudson, traveling by motorcycle.

I don't understand all the technical stuff about motorcycles, but Patrick does. It is a full-dresser- 1961 Harley Hydra- glide Panhead with a 74 cubic-inch, 1200 cc v-twin engine. It was his father's and Patrick maintains it in tip top condition. He explained a lot of other technical stuff, making comparisons to the newer and older Harleys. All I care about is that Patrick takes me with him when he rides.

Riding on his Harley is something that we will absolutely do together.

Patrick's wife was afraid of motorcycles and refused to ride with him, not even up and down the driveway. Patrick was so happy when I did. He bought me my leather jacket, helmet, gloves and boots the next day.

My horse riding lessons were set aside for short trips on a different kind of horse, to get me used to it. Basically I had to learn and shift my weight in a turn, and anticipate the road up ahead. That didn't mean that I ignored White Cloud though, I was responsible for all her care now, including shoveling up after her.

I called Sam every day to check on her, and Sam would hold his cell phone up to White Cloud's ear to hear my voice. Sam is amazed how well she is doing now.

My Dads eyes just about bugged out of his head when I dismounted, took my helmet off, and shook my hair out. I stuffed my gloves in my helmet and handed it to Patrick. I then walked over to hug and kiss my Mom and Dad.

First, I kissed and hugged my Mom, and then my Dad. As I hugged Dad, I could see that he was trying to stare Patrick down over my shoulder as if to say, "What the hell are you trying to do to my daughter?" (The motorcycle), and that was step one, the mean look. That alone got the Jerk nervous. Dad could be formidable and intimidating when he wanted to be.

"I whispered, "Be nice for me, Daddy, "and I kissed his cheek.

"I promise I won't hurt him to badly, honey."

Patrick met his gaze with just the hint of a smile. Dad let go of me and Patrick walked over to meet them.

"Mom, Dad, this is Patrick Buchanan. Patrick this is my Mom and Dad; Dominick and Mary Bernardino."

"I'm pleased to meet you folks," Patrick said, smiling, while gently shaking my Mom's hand first, "Marie has told me so much about you both."

Patrick held out his hand and Dad took it, squeezing Patrick's hand in his vice like grip. He expected Patrick to try and pull away. Much to my Dad's surprise, that was not the case at all. Mom put her hand on my shoulder. She was nodding and smiling.

Dad's confident smile turned to a frown as they both stood there, increasing the pressure. We could see the veins standing out in Dad's neck as he glared into Patrick's eyes.

Changing tactics, Dad put his other hand on Patrick's shoulder near the neck and started squeezing...Patrick dropped my helmet and did same.

"Well I had better go and rescue your father?" Mom whispered.

"What do you mean, Mom? Dad's doing fine," I whispered.

"Well, for now he is," Mom whispered, "You know how stubborn your father can be. It should be over with by now. Dominick was always one for a quick kill and now he is struggling. Patrick is holding back, can't you tell. He doesn't want to embarrass your father in front of us. It would be better for this end in a draw."

"Are you boys going to stand here all day like that?" Mom asked. She was standing behind Dad and looking at Patrick, and it seemed a silent understanding passed between them.

"Not, now, Mary," Dad, grunted, the perspiration pouring down his face.

"Dominick, you promised not to hurt him. Give this young man a chance. How can he work if you break his hand?"

"But, Mary, you heard what this mamaluke hayseed said to me on the telephone," Dad grunted.

"And I heard what you said to him. It is a good thing that he doesn't understand Italian. Talk it out like gentlemen. I invited Joe over for dinner. I want your word that when I count to three you will both let go."

"I will if he will," Dad, said, glaring at Patrick, "but I want to hear him say it."

"I give you my word, Mrs. Bernardino."

" Fine, it's settled then, one...two...three," They both let go, clenching and unclenching their hands several times.

How I loved Patrick at that moment. I hope he knows what he is doing.

"Why don't you ladies go into the house so that this one and I can get better acquainted," my father said, deliberately not referring to Patrick by name."

"Yes, please do," Patrick said smiling, "We are getting along just fine. Aren't we, Mr. Bernardino?"

Patrick slapped my Dad hard on the back surprising him. Dad had to catch himself to keep from stumbling. Wow, that had to hurt.

This had me thinking, 'Well Dad, so much for step one and step two. I bet you won't arm wrestle with him now.'

"Yes we are," my Dad said, while Patrick braced himself for what was coming, "We are making progress. We have already agreed on something."

Dad slapped Patrick even harder. From the sound of it and despite the heavy leather jacket Patrick was wearing, that had to really hurt.

Mom and I looked at each other in silent understanding, "We will all go up together," Mom said, "Marie can help me in the kitchen while you two retire to the living room and wait for Joe. Hopefully you two will not break anything. Perhaps Patrick would like a glass of wine?"

We went into the house together and Dad excused himself to go to the bathroom. Mom went to the kitchen to put water on to boil for the pasta while I took Patrick into the living room.

Once there I put my arms around his neck and kissed his lips, "I love you, Patrick Ian Buchanan."

"I love you too, Marie Antoinette Bernardino," Patrick said, putting his arms around my waist and pulling me tight, "Your Mom is a lovely and gracious woman. Like Mother like daughter, as they say."

"What do you think of my Dad?"

"The jury is still out on that. What time is it?"

"It is about three o'clock, why?"

"Well, we couldn't just arrive here empty-handed. I made arrangements to have a fruit basket delivered. You said pears and oranges were Dad's favorites. It should have been here by now. By the way, what chair does your father like to sit in?"

"Don't you dare?"

"I wouldn't think of it. I have aggravated your Dad enough for now. If I push him too far I might not get dinner, and if your Mom's sauce is anything like yours, I will be missing a feast."

As Patrick said that, Dad walked into the room with a tray holding a decanter of wine and four glasses. I noticed that Dad had washed his face, and put on a clean white shirt. I walked over to Dad and hugged him, "I love you Daddy, thank you. I'll help Mom in the kitchen."

"I love you too Princess, would you like a glass of wine?"

"Two please. I'll bring one to Mom."

Dad poured them and I left hoping for the best.

***************

"Well, you might as well sit down."

"Thank you," I sat down in the chair across from him."

"Do you drink wine?" Mr. Bernardino asked, "This is homemade Chianti."

"Yes, I seldom get a good homemade wine. My Father made a very good hard cider in a whiskey barrel."

"I don't like you," Mr. Bernardino said, leaning forward.