tagLoving WivesImagine There's Still Love Ch. 02

Imagine There's Still Love Ch. 02



There are amazing moments in a man's life, marked by significant events. There is magic in the day he marries the woman of his dreams. There is incomparable wonder as he carries his first born to be cleaned and weighed as her mother recovers from such an overwhelming accomplishment. There is absolute pride as he watches his daughter graduate from college with honors. There is sorrow and pain touching his soul as he lives through each of his parents departing this mortal coil. There is shame and remorse as he is confronted with the demise and farewell to his marriage of more than thirty years.

There are seemingly insignificant events in a man's life as well, and it is possible for even a moment such as that to have so profound effect on him as to change his life. There is the magic of looking into the eyes of a person he has known for most of a lifetime and seeing a person he has never met before who would own his soul.

February snows had come and gone, and March was entering like a lamb for a change. Jonathon and Lucy Thomas had managed to get along well enough to finish pruning each of the dozen dwarf fruit trees in their small orchard, and were busy trying to keep the fire stoked enough that only a pile of ash would remain. It was no small feat that they had not argued at all during the two hour project. It helped that they kept the attempts to communicate at all to a minimum.

The last of the branches had been piled high on the smoldering blaze, and they stood with rakes in hand to tend and manage the fire to its last. After a few moments of watching, without notice or comment, Jon turned to stroll across the sweeping driveway to retrieve a pair of white plastic chairs which had been stacked and left on an outside patio for the winter. He returned and separated the chairs, setting one near his wife, then carrying the one for himself to the far side of the fire.

"This chair is wet and dirty," Lucy commented as he began to sit down.

"Sorry," he said, standing back up and glancing down at his own chair. "You can have this one."

"No...I want this one," she replied.

He sighed. "I'll go get a towel and wipe it off for you."

"No...I want you to sit in my chair and clean it off with your pants."

"But that will get my pants wet and dirty."

"Of course it will."

She stared at him with a frown that was firm and determined. She had stared at him before, but this expression was somehow new. She almost looked like another person. She was not angry, but neither was she teasing, and he could tell that she was not going to change her mind. She pointed to her chair.

"Now get over here and sit down."

Jon stared back at her. What was he supposed to do? Was this another of her halfhearted attempts to placate him with some pathetic effort at being dominant? He had asked her a hundred times, but it had always been some feeble game before. He was not going to get his hopes up over this gesture. That dog had never been willing to really hunt before.

"I...said...sit...down Jonsey," she said through clenched teeth as she pointed to her chair. Her eyes squinted and her lips puckered.

The look on her face, and the way she addressed him, sparked a faint submissive notion deep within him that touched his groin. This was almost what he had been longing for. It couldn't hurt to acquiesce a little for the sake of his deep desires. He had asked for this for a long time, after all. Without looking at her he stomped over to her chair and sat down. He scooted around a bit, making a weak effort to dry the chair off with his butt, then stood back up.

"Good enough?" he asked

She reached up and slapped him so hard that it sent a painful sting on his cheek that stretched from his left eye to an ache in his ear and jaw. Fury consumed him in an instant, a rage that nearly boiled over so far that he was ready to hit her back. He just managed to control himself.

"Sit back down," she commanded.

He sighed deeply. There was that notion inside him again that felt so calming. He sat back down and she quickly stepped around in front of him as though to block him from standing back up. He looked up at her leaning over him and she cradled his jaw with her left hand and stared deeply into his eyes.

That was the seemingly insignificant magic moment. That was the first time he met Lucinda.

"I'm really not very happy with how long it took you to follow my instructions," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said

"You will be," she replied in a tone that was both calm and without quarter.

He could not seem to look away from her eyes. Her hand held his face so they were almost nose to nose. He swallowed hard as her threat scorched him deep in his bowels.

"When you are certain that there is no chance for any part of my clothing to become damp or dirty from that chair, then you will take the clippers and go get a three foot long switch from the willow tree in the back yard."

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she put her right hand over his mouth.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," she said.

He nodded.

"Good. Now I know that you never asked me to spank you. And I know that it probably is nothing you ever wanted, but you need to get your head around the fact that I'm going to switch you. It might be only ten times, but I have not decided how many times just yet."

She did not move. She remained bent in front of him, one hand on his jaw and one hand over his mouth, the magic of her gaze boring into him.

"You told me you wanted me to dominate you," she whispered. "You told me this was the answer to all of our problems. This is your one chance to prove it to me. This is your one chance to submit to me. Do exactly as I tell you, without comment or resistance, or I am leaving you. I will be gone before dark, and you will never see me again. Do you understand?"

Jonathon blinked several times, breathing deeply to calm himself as he searched her eyes. Would she really leave him? God knew that he had thought about it many times himself recently. Was she serious? She damned sure seemed serious. The skin on his face still itched where she had slapped him. That sure felt serious. Was she really planning on switching him? Was he going to stand still for it? Did he have a choice? Even if he never had an interest in being spanked, he was the one who had started all this.

Time to put up, or shut up.

He nodded to her, and at that instant the weight of the world seemed to be gone from his shoulders. He felt subdued and relieved. She released his face, straightened up, and stepped back, gesturing with a sideways nod of her head.

Jon got up and grabbed the pruning shears, then meandered toward the back yard in a strange daze.

"You have five minutes to be back here with the perfect switch...three feet long, at least," she yelled behind him.

Jon quickened his pace. His thoughts were a jumble of dreams and fantasies and fears as he went about the assigned task. He had never experienced the sense of emotional and psychological submission that he was feeling. He had read about it, of course, but the reality was amazingly relaxing and satisfying. He was back in less than three minutes, carrying four different switches in one hand and the shears in the other. She was sitting in her chair, mesmerized by the flames, seemingly oblivious to him. He set the shears down on his chair and approached her, holding the four switches in both hands with his palms up and open.

That was a display of submission, wasn't it?.

"I hope one of these will make you happy," he said uncertainly when she looked at him.

She smiled warmly, glancing at his offering. "Such a good boy," she answered as she considered each of the branches. He felt warm all through at her words. It was such a glorious sensation. How could he explain what he was feeling?

She chose the thickest one and swished it through the air several times and nodded with satisfaction. She took another moment to examine each of the others again carefully, then smiled and nodded at her original choice.

"I like this one," she said, "but it's a bit too long. Shorten the small end by about six inches.

He did as he was instructed, noting with growing trepidation that the small end of the switch was near to half the size of his little finger. Did he really want her switching him with that? Thank God he had heavy work jeans on. He handed the switch back to her, and winced as she forcefully whipped the air with the small end several times.

"That will do just fine," she proclaimed. "Now I want your jeans around your ankles."

Jon stared at her with wide eyes. He was frozen in place. Was she serious? Did she really intend to spank him with his pants down? His right hand instinctively reached to rub the cheek of his right ass.

Then there was the realization of where they were. There were six other houses on their lane, and even though the view into their front yard was limited by a row of Deoder Cedars, the thought that one of his neighbors might see him with his pants down was mortifying.

He could not do it. There was no way he was going to lower his pants.

"I know this a big step for you baby," she whispered. "You can do this. Make me proud by standing here and pushing your pants to the ground."

Her eyes spoke to him to again, establishing her ultimatum. The calm within him was battling with the strong will of his manhood, and calm began to win out. He stepped in front of her and breathed in deeply, then allowed a long slow sigh as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He took another deep breath and slowly pushed his jeans to his ankles.

"Panties too," she whispered.

Panties? What the hell was she saying? The humiliation was devastating. He wanted to scream and run, but at the same time he felt completely compelled to do as she told him.

He closed his eyes in desperation as his cock began to rise. He was so close. He was so aroused. He breathed in again, but this time he held his breath as his erection sprang from his briefs. He continued to hold his breath as he bent over and pushed down his pants. It was only after he stood back up that he let the breath out again.

"Such a good boy," she whispered as she took hold of his cock with her left hand.

She pulled the foreskin back until his erection stood proud. She kept pulling until it was painful, then she slapped his balls hard several time until they sucked up tight against his groin. A sick feeling grew in his abdomen, and it almost made him double over.

"Stand up straight baby," she said.

He straightened up as best the pain in his groin would allow.

"That's good...now put your hands on your head and count for me."

He reached to clasp the fingers of each hand on top of his head and heard the rush of the switch an instant before the snap erupted across both cheeks of his ass. It was more the sound and the surprise that caught him off guard and shocked him. Did it hurt? It was warm. It stung and burned slowly, becoming worse as he shivered from the surprise. Then he remembered to count.

"One," he said out loud.

"Good boy," she said.

He shivered and jumped when he felt the switch touch his skin again, then felt his face warm with embarrassment when he realized she was only touching him with the switch. She caressed his ass with the branch, then tapped him lightly several times. He chuckled nervously. This was not so bad.

Suddenly there was another harsh sting on his butt. Now that hurt.

"Two," he said nervously.

The next blow hurt more. It came hard and without warning or any caress. He sucked in a breath and winced.

"Three," he exclaimed.

The next four blows came in quick succession, like blistering stamps of fire on the backs of his legs. They almost made his legs buckle, and it was all he could do to keep from taking his hands from his head and reach down to protect the tender backs of his legs.

"Four, five, six, seven," he panted.

"Good boy," she said out loud. "Three more."

The next three blows were on the cheeks of his ass again, surprising him by the force she exerted and the pain it brought him. The sting gave way to a throbbing heat. He did not think he could take any more as he stood there shivering, but she quickly caressed away the tension with her smooth hand.

"Eight, nine, ten," he said through clenched teeth.

"That was good baby," she said. "I'll put some cortisone cream on you after your shower tonight. Right now I want you to go take a nap. I'll watch the fire until it's out...I need some time alone to figure out how I feel about all of this. "

How she felt about this? What about how he felt about this? It was then that Jon realized how excited he was. His penis was plump and stiff in front of him, and it did not feel like it would ever go soft again. He pulled up his pants and held them closed at the top. He knew he was never going to get his zipper closed with the erection he had. He walked slowly and carefully toward the house in a haze of submission and well-being and more sexual tension than he could remember in years. His bottom and legs were sore, but the hardness in his heart was completely gone. At that moment his wife could have told him lay down in the middle of a freeway and he would have blindly done so.

By the time he reached the bedroom, however, he realized that she was right. He was so tired from his switching that he could not keep his eyes open. He curled up on their bed and closed his eyes. He dreamed of a Goddess with penetrating eyes. Her name was Lucinda.

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byEdgarJames34© 5 comments/ 21247 views/ 3 favorites
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