Informed Consent Read online

  It took him a moment to find her in the gloom of her room. She sat on the floor, forearms balanced on her knees. It gave him the impression her head had been down until he’d flicked the light on. When she looked he thought she looked wan, tired.

  He laid the tray on the table by the fireplace, a massive piece of work that didn’t stand a chance of actually working. Instead of logs, a huge sculpture filled the hearth. Probably cost a fortune. That was typical of her parents; spend a small fortune on a white elephant while the roof blew off in small pieces.

  Hands on his hips, Andrew looked at his wife. She’d put her head back down. He felt sympathetic. He didn’t have any real intention of punishing her further for the dog incident, but she didn’t know that, and here she was heaping more pain on herself. For the sake of a brother. He gave her bonus points for that.

  But he couldn’t let it make a difference right? Consistency was very important.

  Consistency was damn exhausting too. It would be easier to let it all go and sit down in front of the big screen and kill zombies with the boys.

  Or make love to his beautiful wife.

  “Come on, Denise. Eat.”

  “I’m not hungry, Andrew. How can I be? I’m waiting for you to beat me.”

  “Are you?” He kept his voice level.

  “Of course.” She moved from the floor. By the time she stood up her face was no longer worn and tired; she looked mutinous. “I said ‘Jesus Christ’ and ’fuck’ to the Head of the Household. I shudder to imagine what punishment I’m in for.”

  Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  “I don’t like the sarcasm, Denise. Aside from that, you did exactly what I would have told you to do: you left and took some time to chill. I’d prefer you’d gone to our room, but I get it.”

  The hussy looked him directly in the eye, raised one elegant brow and turned away, strolling leisurely towards the bathroom. She might as well have had “Did I now?” tattooed on her ass.

  When he wasn’t worried he was scarring her for life, he was actually enjoying himself. He poked his tongue in his cheek to keep from grinning.

  It was blindingly clear she was trying to provoke him. Had to be something to do with William. Again, he admired her instinct to protect her brothers.

  Andrew sat on the end of the huge bed, leaning back.

  It took her a long time. A toilet flushed. The sink ran. Some rustling. Drawers slid open, and then closed. If she started the bath, for Christ sake, would he put a stop to it? He grinned. Let her.

  The door opened and Denise walked back out looking a little self-conscious, but determined to pull off the effect of ignoring him. She kicked off her shoes and reached for the robe hanging on a clothes tree near the bed. “I’m going to take a bath. Stress relief.”

  Halfway back into the bathroom she paused, hand on the door ready to pull it to behind her. She looked back at him.

  “I’ll definitely keep thinking about what I did wrong.”

  She didn’t wait for a reaction from Andrew.

  He grinned.

  Water ran for a long time. Andrew lay back on the bed and listened for sounds from downstairs. It sounded like the kids had finished in the kitchen and were now camped in the far den. He could hear faint strains of music and voices because of course they would have the TV going at the same time as some electronic device blasted music.

  Andrew left her room for their shared one. In the drawer next to the bed he selected an item. Pocketing it, he headed back down the hall to her room, her bathroom, and walked in --he wasn’t knocking. He’d given enough on this issue for tonight. He caught her as she sank down into the deep tub. She blushed fiercely and buried herself in bubbles. Andrew leaned back against the porcelain of an old fashioned sink. From the looks of it, he decided, it didn’t simply appear old fashioned. It was probably an original fixture brought over on the Santa Maria and transported up from Haiti by boat and mule train.

  “Please knock in the future, Andrew.” His darling picture of submissiveness requested politely.

  He raised a brow.

  Her face took on an even more innocent expression. “It startled me. I almost fell.”

  Andrew ignored her comment. “Stand up, Denise.” He moved forward and put out a hand to help her.

  Denise blushed and made no move to take his hand.

  “I’m naked.”

  “I know that. Get up please.”

  “I’m not comfortable being naked in front of you yet.”

  Her voice had grown chilly, hard.

  “Denise.”

  She looked at him very coldly and sighed with clear frustration. She grasped the sides of the tub and stood up, glaring at him.

  “Did you sigh at me? Like in exasperation?”

  “Yes. I did. I’m cold, and very uncomfortable. And I don’t like being expected to put myself in situations where I’m uncomfortable for your amusement.”

  She looked magnificent. As far as he was concerned her body was perfect. Sleek muscles. Curves where curves belonged. A tiny, barely round belly. Soap bubbles clung to her pubic hair. Her nipples were erect. He would ignore them, like the gentleman he was. He slipped his hand into his pocket.

  “I’ve got something I think will help you think things over. Put you in the proper mood.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  He made a gesture with the fingers of one hand. “Turn around and bend over.”

  She glared at him some more, clearly with no intention of obeying.

  Andrew put a hand on her far hip and another on her shoulder and helped her move, around and down. She was smart enough not to fight him but he smacked her ass anyway, already red from the heat of the bath. “Hold onto the edge of the tub, darlin’.”

  He moved his hand from her shoulder, ready to slap it back if she tried to straighten. She didn’t.

  “Spread your legs.”

  It took her a moment but she began to move her legs apart. He slapped her on her inner thighs several times.“Wider.

  “Now stay put.”

  He opened the cabinet and picked up a bottle of lubricant. He held a decent sized butt plug in his hand, with a round lip that prevented the plug from further entry once it was seated. He rolled the plug between his hands, warming it, and then flicked the top off the lubricant and dribbled some over it.

  “This will help you keep your mind on submission to your Head of Household, Denise.” He positioned the plug at the tight rosebud entry to her ass, ready for her startle. His hand clamped down firmly on the small of her back, holding her in place.

  He knew from experience that a firm thrust with a well lubed device would be easiest. He inserted the plug completely in one smooth move.

  A small burst of air and an “oh,” followed by some wriggling.

  “You can sit.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Go on, enjoy your bath. But keep that plug in.”

  He turned and ran water in the sink, reaching for the bottle of soap that sat on its edge.

  “You can’t be ser-“

  “I am.” He cut her off. “If you’re smart you’ll let that plug remind you of a few things. When I come back I expect a full list of everything you did wrong today.”

  He reached for a towel and began to dry his hands, steadfastly ignoring the sight of her standing there, discomfort coloring her features. He’d guess Denise had never had anything up her ass before. He’d heard it went a long way to restoring submission in a recalcitrant woman. More than anything, he suspected she’d find it highly erotic. Neil had said “focus on the sex”. So he was.

  “Go, on, Denise. Clench the muscles in your ass and sit.”

  He thrust out his hand. He ignored the tears beginning to well in those pretty eyes of hers. “Sit!” he barked. “Hold it in and sit.”

  She moved a hand back to guide her as she sat, moving awkwardly, sinking to her knees in the water.

  He hadn’t said kneel, he’d said sit. On the other hand, he didn’t nee
d to be a complete prick.

  “When you’re done with your bath, Babe, get in your pajamas and into bed. Our bed. You’re welcome to watch TV, or read, but stay in our room.

  “If your list of offenses isn’t complete you’re going to have a go round with that bath brush that will make you scream.”

  He winked at her.

  “If it is complete I’ll still make you scream but you’ll like it a lot more.”

  No ‘Please’.

  No look to check her obedience.

  He made himself walk out the door.

  Chapter Eight

  And once again I’m sniveling.

  Denise moved her legs from underneath her, the fingers of one hand anxiously touching the rude edge of the anal plug.

  Unbelievable.

  The fucking idiot prick son of a bitch cocksucker.

  Still. He doesn’t know William missed school. He doesn’t know William is god-only-knows-where.

  No one had ever touched her up there before. In her imagination the act had sounded darkly attractive, and also damn uncomfortable. She would have ripped the face off any fool who actually attempted to do such a thing.

  This particular fool hadn’t bothered to ask.

  Now here she was. Stuffed. While in the tub. Totally undignified.

  She wriggled experimentally.

  ’Keep your mind on submission’? Was that the words he’d chosen? Did she feel submissive?

  She reached for the bath lotion and got busy because she certainly no longer felt like lounging in the tub.

  She felt like jumping out of her skin.

  And maybe kinda submissive.

  Definitely horny.

  Boy did that piss her off.

  ***

  William whistled while he rummaged thru the frig. There wasn’t a god dammed thing in it. He slammed the door. A plate covered with plastic wrap sat on the stove. He moved towards it, a grin taking shape on his face. “Sweet!”

  Denise must be entering some new homemaker stage now she was married because this -- a hot meal left waiting -- had never happened before, ever. His parents wouldn’t even notice you weren’t in the house, let alone think about providing you with food. It looked pretty good too. He peeled off the wrap while headed for the microwave. Using fingers, William snagged some noodles and leveraged them into his mouth.

  “Use a fork, dude.”

  William almost dropped the freaking plate. He looked over at his brother in law.

  “Daaamm, son. Scared the shit outta me.”

  His brother-in-law pulled a lot of air into his lungs and shook his head, slowly exhaling. Some weird yoga shit, maybe?

  William shoved the plate into the microwave and pushed buttons. Waiting, he shuffled and popped, demonstrating a hip new street dance move, shoulders, hips, head, everything flowing into the move. “Baabby”

  His fingers snapped and the microwave chimed at the same time. He grinned.

  “So Andrew, my man!” William slid into a chair and pulled the plate towards him.

  “Fork.”

  “That’s right. Fork. Man where the hell are the forks?”

  He danced his way thru opening a few drawers, chose a utensil and danced his way back to the table, sitting down.

  “How was the day, Andrew my brotha?” Ducking his head, he shoved an amazing amount of pasta into his mouth. “Good? Bad? Completely indifferent?”

  “Nothing too interesting. I saw you. How was school?”

  “School! School! Man, there’s a question! You saw me? Dude! You shouldda said Yo! When was that? Say!” William pointed at his plate.

  “Check it out. Sister’s gone Martha Stewart since she signed on with you.”

  There were times when a man needed to be crafty. He could be crafty.

  “Nice moves.” Andrew nodded his head. “Complicated series of maneuvers. Won’t work though.”

  William sighed, shrugged. “Man’s gotta try.”

  “He does indeed. Tell me.”

  Never let it be said William Morrow didn’t know when to fold a dead hand.

  “I slept in.” He grinned at his brother in law. “I gotta establish a habit. Did you know that takes three weeks?”

  The man grunted and got up from his chair. He whapped William in the head. It carried the slightest sting. “I suggest your habit forms a hell of a lot faster than that. But for now let’s say you’re grounded for three weeks, eh?”

  Dude walked out. William got up and stalked from the room, the novelty of a saved plate of pasta forgotten. He trudged through the house trying to locate his brothers. One of the monster dogs Lucas always brought home loomed up suddenly from the floor in front of him and he almost swallowed his tongue.

  He stormed into the room he and his brothers thought of as their lair. “Smooth move you little creeps. Which one of you sold me out to dude?”

  “Zander.” Lucas didn’t bother to look up from a massively successful round of zombie killing.

  “Thanks, you little geek.” William ground his knuckles into the kid’s head. “I’m fucking grounded.”

  That caught Lucas’ attention. “You’re grounded? No shit!”

  “Three freaking weeks.”

  “Dee?”

  “Not likely.” He snorted. “Her frickin husband.”

  Lucas shook his head. “Things are getting weird. The man made dinner. Dee tried to save your ass man, she tried to distract him and when she couldn’t she threw one doozy of a fit.”

  “I think she got into trouble.” Zander looked worried.

  William snorted. “She’s his wife. She can do any damn thing she pleases.”

  “I think she got in trouble because of you!” Zander screamed it this time and William grabbed the twerp off the floor to shut him up.

  Damn if the little geek twerp didn’t clamp his teeth down on his hand. Full strength. “Fuck!”

  William got both hands around his brother’s waist and tossed him across the room into a beanbag chair.

  Zander was a tough little s.o.b. He was up and storming across the room, head lowered, leaping the ottoman, doing a Mel Gibson Braveheart routine.

  William stretched out his arms. “Whoa! Easy little dude!” This time he tossed the kid further.

  The kid stayed down. William strolled over to take a quick check, make sure the brat was still alive.

  Zander leapt from the floor like a freaking werewolf and latched onto William, a small fierce bundle of teeth, flailing legs and gouging fingers.

  “What the hell are you doing?” His sister appeared suddenly out of nowhere, trying to pull the little monkey off his back.

  Mad now, William punched him in the side. Zander gasped in pain and Denise got a death hold on two clumps of William’s hair and pulled, a Xena war cry ripping from her mouth.

  “Jesus Christ in a Fucking Basket. Why did I even come home?”

  “I’m asking myself that question.” Andrew’s voice was like dry ice, sneaking up on the combatants, freezing everyone. But no one gave any ground.

  The man started issuing orders:“Denise. Let go of William and get up stairs. Turn off the X box, Lucas. Put rough hands on that kid again William and I will personally take you down.”

  “Don’t talk to my sister like that!” Zander’s voice was shrill with tears. “And don’t threaten my brother!”

  “Are you threatening my brother?” Denise kept hold of William’s hair but turned to glare at her husband.

  William brought both arms up under Denise’s and broke her hold on his hair. But it fucking hurt and he said so.

  “Sweet lord. Denise! Upstairs.” Andrew barked, and then advanced on her.

  She moved.

  Next, he jabbed a finger at Lucas. “You! Sit down! Zander! Knock it off.” The kid had begun to kick Andrew’s shins.

  William found his sense of humor and started to laugh but ended up perilously close to tears. He sank down on the couch next to Lucas. Andrew proceeded to give a long lecture, all about r
esponsibility and shit not flowing down hill and how things were going to tighten up around here. At some point Zander squeezed in between him and Lucas so William patted the kid on the head and waited for the lecture to end.

  ***

  Denise lay curled protectively into the armchair, arms locked around her knees. She stared at Andrew when he came in, lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. After a long time Andrew jammed a few more pillows under his neck and straightened slightly.

  “Your brothers are pretty out of control.”

  “They need time.”

  Andrew said nothing.

  She tried again. “My parents weren’t big on the discipline side of parenting.”

  She got a rude snorting sound.

  “Your parents weren’t big on any aspect of parenting.”

  That was true, so she said nothing.

  Neither did he.

  The clock on the far wall ticked. Otherwise the house was silent.

  She gave in abruptly when she couldn’t take the waiting anymore.

  “Would you get it over with? I can’t stand the suspense. Go ahead and roll out your next kinky disciplinary action.”

  He looked over at her. “I’m tired. I’m not used to this much excitement after a day at work.”

  “Maybe you’d be happier living in your apartment during the week?”

  He scowled. “Nice try.”

  Denise sighed. “I lost the thingie.”

  Andrew cocked his head. “Come again?”

  “The thingie. I lost it.”

  He sat up straight and the corner of his mouth tried to tick up.

  “I heard the screaming and grabbed my robe and ran.”

  “You don’t know where it is?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ve looked?”

  Denise nodded.

  The idiot burst into laughter.

  “Come here.” Andrew patted the bed next to his hip.

  She looked at him suspiciously.

  “I’m not going to smack you, Denise. Come here.”

  She wasn’t convinced, but sat down almost out of his reach. He grinned and leaned forward, easily catching her arm and pulling her down next to him.