The Kink Therapist: Nothing But Trouble (Erotic Romance Novelette) by Krissy Rose Page B

hot and mesmerizing.
    My hand is drenched, and he hasn’t even
gotten to the belting yet. The pressure inside my walls is
volcanic, so close to blasting. And, suddenly, it does. I close my
eyes and clamp my jaw as it pushes me over the edge. I lower my
head as breaths rush out and I’m hit with frantic squeezes. A fresh
wave of hot cream slicks up my fingers. I wait until equilibrium
returns and look back up at the sexy spectacle. In needing to
stretch out a little from my tight tuck in the tub, I accidentally
upend the bucket with my foot. Fuck. The cold whoosh streams over
my feet, and I slosh my fingers in it to clean off my sex
juice.
    Rick hears my mistake, arm extended, belt in
the air, and looks me dead in the eye.
    My heart jumps and picks up a frantic beat.
I want to duck away, not that it would do any good because he’s seen me, but I can’t seem to move as I wait for his
reprimand.
    But his attention shifts back to his wife.
He runs his left hand down her cheek and pats her fair
presentation. A bolt of lightning zaps my core when the looped
leather in his right swoops way back, then falls down in an arc,
regardless of me being here, and smashes into its soft mark.
    She squashes her shrill, it’s left
floundering behind her lips, then she sniffles and chokes back
sobs.
    He knows I’m here and clearly doesn’t give a
fuck as he repeats the move with a harder smack. He does it again
and again and again, with the belt leaving angry lashes behind in
its wake. After twelve no-nonsense stripes, he rolls up the belt,
returns it to her purse and removes a tiny jar.
    “Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. If
you misbehave, I’ll have you baring rear again in a heartbeat,
anytime, anyplace. Watch your mouth from now on.”
    She warbles, “I will. I’m so sorry. It won’t
happen again.”
    “It better not.” He crouches behind her,
sets the purse on the floor, and scoops out white goop to rub all
over her glowing, red globes. Once she’s slicked up, he stands and
kisses the back of her head and caresses her. He’s whispering
secrets in her ear.
    I’m shaking, worried he’ll spill the beans
that her punishment wasn’t exactly in private, but she never looks
to her right or screams in horror. He doesn’t say anything about
it. Why?
    He bends and gently pulls up her panties and
shorts in a single ascent and sets them back in place. He buttons
and zips her up and is back to whispering things I can’t hear and
giving her full body a slow, sensual rubdown. Their intimacy is
intoxicating. She turns around and hugs and thanks him for
punishing her and for being such an amazing, caring husband.
    Caring? He just belted her cherry for
heaven’s sake!
    But, even with my warring emotions, I can feel the love emanating between them, and I kinda sorta see
beauty in their arrangement, as freaky and outdated as it is. She
was right. Other people in this church would not get this at all.
For them, this happened because she needed it. And he loved her
enough to give it to her, here , even with a voyeur in the
room.
    I think I need it too. There are so many
things I feel guilty for, and they just keep piling up. That’s why
I’m burning with jealousy.
    I want a sore, red ass. I want to be free
from the shackles of stupid mistakes and past transgressions. I
want to feel that someone cares enough to set me straight. I want
to know that serene thing that I can see on her face now, which is
much different than the guilty, horrified face she came in with.
She’s beaming like an angel, plucked right out of a strawberry
patch in heaven.
    “I love you so much, Sheila.” He clutches
her face and plants a slow, sexy kiss on her lips. Mmm. He’s a very
good kisser, I can tell. She’s so lucky. “You should apologize to
the women you gossiped with, and I expect you to come clean with
Carrie as well. Maybe you can then be a good exhorter for whatever
she’s going through, if anything.”
    “It will be uncomfortable, but I