Relish (The Cass Chronicles Book 2) Page 3

  "Mail fraud?"

  "Second of all, what sort of pervy web sites are you visiting without telling me?'

  "Pervy web sites?"

  He was amused and she found that both infuriating and insulting. "Yes, pervy web sites. And I didn't know it was in there, and I damn near had your mom open it for me."

  "You did?" Killian was laughing.

  "No, not even close," she admitted. She revved right back up." But I could have!"

  Killian could barely contain the small bursts of laughter that spilled from his lips between words spoken in mock seriousness. "Yes" snort of laughter "You" shoulders rolling with mirth "could have".

  "It doesn't matter anyway since it's going back."

  Laughter ended. "Come again?"

  "If you think for one second," Danger "that I am going to allow you" Will "to spank me with that thing, just to satisfy your fringe, sicko, vicious, sadistic tendencies you are cra—" Robinson. Her brain was trying to get in touch with her mouth, but was just not fast enough. Danger Will Robinson, indeed. "Well, I think we should discuss it," she lamely finished.

  "How does your issuing me ultimatums fit into a discussion?" he asked levelly, plucking the paddle from her hand.

  "Um. Not really well," she responded.

  He was mad. "When I wasn't plotting postal fraud, I was thinking that this would be fun for good girl spankings." He swatted it against his own thigh. "It's leather. Stings, but I was trying to avoid leaving bruises. Just another example of my sadistic, sick, vicious tendencies…"

  Well, fuck, she thought.

  Cass was learning that as a wife, sometimes she needed to insist on being heard, and sometimes the best response was, "I'll spare you the details, just start spanking." Would she ever learn to tell the difference?

  Chapter 4 - The Fraternal Juxtaposition

  She rubbed her eyes. "I didn't mean any of that."

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her. "I know."

  Now this, thought Cass alliteratively presented her with a pretty pickle. Did she go to him, knowing that doing so was putting less real estate between her and his spanking hand? She did.

  "I don't know what I am doing," she confessed. "I am not one of those women who wants to give up all of her independence."

  "Of course not," he said, gently, rubbing her lower back.

  "I don't know how to do this—whatever it is. But face it, I can't really discuss this with anyone, even if I had any friends here."

  He pulled her tightly to him and she was astonished by the strength of the sob that tore from her chest. He let her cry for a minute, rocking her on his lap. "You gave up a lot to be here. I know how much."

  "You are worth it," she said.

  He kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

  The rap on the door made Cass nearly leap out of her skin. Thank heavens her groom was of a much calmer nature. "It's open," he called, deftly sliding the paddle under the pillows.

  It was not open. Killian jogged through the bedroom door and down the stairs to open the outer door. His brother clapped him on the back. "Really? Locked in the bedroom? It's afternoon, bro… control yourself."

  Cass thought it just as well to head down the stairs and Torsten swung her into a deep hug. "When did you get into town?" She was thrilled to see him.

  "Just now. Where's Mom?"

  "Oh, she was going to put towels in one of the cabins." Cass leaned into the intercom system at the base of the stairwell and hit #2. "Hazel, if you are there, Torsten just got here."

  There was a loud beep followed by a rustling noise. "That's wonderful, dear. I just got busy scrubbing this cabin. I'll be right there."

  Cass had cleaned that cabin a few days ago. "Great," she thought. "One more thing I am not good enough at."

  CassCooks Blog Post

  Way easier than pie.

  We have a bond you and I. A connection that transcends the space time continuum. We share a love for good food and snarky snark. Therefore, I will unburden my heart to you all and trust that my deepest secrets will be held in confidence and that you will not think the less of me for them.

  I use cake mixes. No. Your love has emboldened me… I USE CAKE MIXES AND SO SHOULD YOU. I know, I know, it's appalling—it's low rent, trailer trashy and borderline deceptive.

  Now, allow me to put forth the case for the defense.

  Cake mixes are dry ingredients. Yes, they are full of artificial moisteners, but unless someone has deceived both of us, the food in question is cake. Cake, not life support—although I am prepared to argue that sometimes they are one and the same. And you are making a wedding cake, which will require a significant freezing, thawing, decorating and then assembling time frame. You owe those artificial moisteners and do not forget it. Now, we are going to jack up the recipe, to get optimal lusciousness and keeping power. It also saves you time which is something that you will find yourself grasping for as the blessed day approaches. Now, I am going to give you the basic recipe—such as it is—look in the archives for the tables so you know how much to make. This template talks you through making a four layer 10" cake. This is more than you need for tasting, in which case feel free to call and invite me. However, you will definitely need a 10" layer so you should practice making that size and you can make a smaller top cake by cutting a bigger cake… trust me on this.

  2 boxes name brand premium cake mixes (white or chocolate) my favorite might include the initials DH and the words 'pudding in the mix' or maybe not—a lady always keeps her secrets.

  12 egg yolks (see recipe for frosting—double it and you are good to go

  1/2 cup melted butter (use the amount of oil called for on the box—and double it)

  1 1/2 cups buttermilk (use double the amount of water called for on each box)

  Put the ingredients in the bowl of your stand mixer. Mixes first, covered by other ingredients. Your bowl will be full, so it's probably a good idea to stir with the paddle attachment by hand for a few turns and then assemble the mixer. (We've already established that confession is good for the soul—so here goes—I lost part of the splash guard attachment within days of getting my mixer—if you have one of those you can skip this step.)

  Allow to mix for a few minutes—you want it to be the consistency of well, cake batter—not quite as loose as pancake batter—nothing like cookie dough. Add small amounts of water if you need to until you get there.

  Spray a 10" cake pan liberally with a baking spray and eyeballing it—add 1/3 of the batter. Bake at 315 degrees (in convection—345 if not).

  Start testing at twenty minutes. Those recipes that say to bake until a toothpick comes out dry are anti cake propaganda of the worst sort. It's trickier than that. You need a tiny bit of moist crumb sticking. Allow to cool in pan for a few minutes and then lay a rack over it and turn it out. Repeat two more times. It's a very good idea to plan a stew or pot roast for the days you will be baking. The oven can easily hold both.

  When cakes are cool—AND NOT A SECOND BEFORE—slather with buttercream. I'll cover decorating in a future blog. You can also freeze cakes separated by parchment and then wrapped in cling film and then foil for months.

  PS: The only possible response when people ask if the cake is homemade is, "Yes, I baked it myself."

  Keep your life delicious!

  Cass

  She had gotten the blog post up while the Bolognese sauce simmered away. She often posted about what she was working on in the kitchen that day, but she had wedding cakes on the brain. Despite her savory ragout, dinner was a somewhat restrained affair. Cass felt bad about her earlier attitude. She was also plagued with questions. "Does my desire for this kind of marriage mean I have a lack of self esteem? Will I ever belong in Slicktrench? Just how blistered is my butt going to be before I fall asleep tonight?" The last query made her smile and only partly due to nerves. The paradox of her life, that she could spend hours around a table that looked like it had been plucked from an episode of The Walton'
s while anticipating having her bottom bared and scorched, was both wonderful and unnerving.

  Hazel seemed quieter than usual. Torsten seemed overwhelmed by the wedding details. Lloyd was texting at the table, which did not seem like him. Killian rested his hand on his wife's nervous thigh. Typically, dinners at the lodge were long convivial affairs. Tonight, everyone seemed almost relieved to be finished.

  Cass was loading the dirty plates into the dishwasher when her husband wrapped his arms around her from behind. She nestled herself into his embrace. "I am sorry about earlier."

  He chuckled. "Oh, city mouse, you don't know anything about sorry yet."

  There it was again, that heady mixture of dread, arousal and trust. He turned her around to face him and lifted her chin with a gentle finger underneath it. "Now, Torsten wants to talk to me about something. You go upstairs right now."

  She nodded. Killian continued, "When I get up there, I need to find a fire in the fireplace, everything from the drawer laid out and you in a hot bath."

  Dread was right. "Everything? The whole drawer?"

  He kissed her. "Everything. Go. Now."

  Chapter 5 - A Dearth of Fireflies

  Cass was grateful that the fireplace in their apartment had been converted to a gas fire. She was far too nervous to successfully light a fire. She started the bath running. She turned the covers back on the bed, dislodging the blue paddle. She opened the bedside drawer. She withdrew a small wooden spatula. She lay the paddle and the spatula on the top of the bedside table. Next, she pulled out the bath brush. She had only had the misfortune to experience the bath brush once, and she was in no hurry to repeat the experience. Now that she had the bath brush in her hand, she understood what her husband had meant about the paddle. The paddle was slightly bigger than the head of the bath brush, but it was significantly lighter. She ran her fingers over both of them. The leather of the paddle was springy. The wood of the bath brush was as unforgiving as a puritan on Sunday. Dammit. She had freaked out over nothing. The last two items in the drawer were a bottle of lube and a small bright pink butt plug. They also were added to the motley crew on the table.

  She shucked her clothes and lowered herself into the steaming tub. Before she lay back, she paused to pin up her hair and poured a slick of rose scented oil onto the water. She lightly ran a razor over her armpits, her legs and her smooth pussy. She rubbed the oil into her skin. She used a nail brush on her fingernails and then scrubbed her toes. She lay back and tried not to think about the spanking that was coming. That didn't work, so she gave in and imagined herself stretched over her husband's lap with his hard cock pressing against her belly. Twice she topped up the tub with more hot water. She climbed out of the tub and hesitated. Surely this wasn't some kind of a test? That didn't sound like Killian at all, and yet he had told her to be in the tub. She wrapped herself in a towel and peered around the door. He wasn't there. She tiptoed over to her phone. She had been in the tub for ninety minutes. Unsure of what to do, she returned to the bathroom. She could just make something out in the courtyard outside. She flipped the light off. The Nelson boys had lit a fire in the fire pit. A red firefly danced in the darkness. Cass remembered that there were no fireflies in Alaska. Or cardinals, she thought with a rueful laugh. The whole state was lacking in red things, which should delight Ava, the least Valentiny of all Valentine's Day brides. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see that Killian was sitting next to his brother. The still unmarried Nelson brother had his face buried in his hands.

  She considered refilling the tub so that when she heard Killian on the stairs she could race back into it and pretend she hadn't noticed how long he had been gone. She abandoned that idea as stupid and put some pajamas on. She did not dare put the things back in the drawer. Twice she crept back to look out the window. Killian and Torsten remained around their fire using each other as a bulwark against the cold.

  Killian entered their apartment quietly obviously expecting her to be asleep. She was decidedly not asleep. He saw the spanking implements and ran his hand through his hair. "I am so sorry, babe."

  "I waited in the tub a long time."

  "No, you were right to get out. I'm sorry. I should have come to tell you to get out."

  "I figured it wasn't some sort of a test."

  "What? Why would I do that?"

  "You wouldn't. I know. Are things okay?"

  "Ava is pregnant."

  The thought of crab made her want to vomit, she craved lemon cake and chocolate frosting! "Of course she is!"

  "He is not in love with her."

  "Oh my God."

  "Yeah." Killian tossed his jacket over a chair. "I'm the asshole who tried to talk him out of marrying her."

  "Oh, honey, I am sorry."

  "I said that marriage is hard when it's to the right person."

  She looked down at her hands. "I am sorry that being married to me is so hard."

  "Don't do that, I love you. I love being married to you. It's just not always easy. He says they haven't agreed on a single thing yet. So he's trying to figure out how to take care of her, do the right thing and try to keep his job and help her keep her career going."

  There was definitely something special about those Nelson boys. Cass allowed herself to imagine a world peopled by men raised by Hazel. A sudden image of a world peopled by happy, well-loved women filled her thoughts. Of course a certain percentage of these women would have a fiery backside at any given time. It was her nature to analyze, to pick things apart and figure out what made them successful. This skill had made her an exceptionally good chef. She knew that if she could understand the components of a delicious recipe, then she could prevent disappointing results. She had not yet been able to determine what made submitting to the disciplinary and sexual advances of her man such a powerful force. This was not the time to be herself and pepper her husband with seemingly unrelated questions.

  He looked exhausted.

  He gave a grin that was a shadow of the one he usually shared with her. "Now, I think I have a wife who needs to be spanked."

  She hesitated. "I'm not trying to get out of anything, but if you are tired…" She stroked his hair.

  The wattage of his grin increased. "You are totally trying to get out of something. Not a bad try though, judges score that one an eight."

  They laughed together and he leaned against the headboard and drew her willingly over his lap. "Now, let's practice something," he said. This struck Cass as a ridiculous thing to say at that particular moment, but she wasn't quite stupid enough to say that out loud.

  "Say it after me—honey, I am afraid to try that."

  She tried to lift herself right back off his lap.

  "Well, you aren't the one getting spanked with those things." He pressed her right back down again.

  She was aware of Killian reaching for something. Oh no. She felt the bath brush rest against her bottom. "Honey, it's true!" The swats were light and quick and he covered every inch of her backside with them. She tried to take it gracefully, since arguing would do her absolutely no good.

  "What did I tell you to do?" Her brain would simply not engage.

  He didn't slow his spanking down a whit.

  "I don't know. I don't know." She tried to rock from side to side as if she could somehow save herself from the onslaught that way. It failed. "Wait, wait I'll say it after you! Honey, I am afraid to try that! Please, honey." It hurt. It was nowhere near the longest, and probably not the hardest spanking she'd ever gotten. Nonetheless she had a red, hot bottom in no time.

  "You are so stubborn," he scolded. "You just won't listen unless your bottom is on fire." Someday when her ass wasn't lit up like a Christmas tree, she would try to understand why this met a need in both of them. Someday. She wasn't up to it yet, but she could feel her husband relaxing underneath her.

  "It's true; I'm afraid of some of this stuff. But I trust you."

  He lay the bath brush back on the table. She was unsure of the best way
to connect with him. Should she let him sleep? Seduce him? He stoked her hair. She could feel the tension draining from him. Lifting herself up, she crawled to the edge of the bed. She handed the blue paddle to her husband and climbed back over his lap.

  "Who's your best girl?" she teased.

  "You are my only girl. My best and only girl." There was a sting to the paddle, that was true.

  "I want to be your girl," she said, meaning every word of it. She was certain that she had never meant anything more.

  "You are, baby you are." He spanked her harder now. She was on the verge of tears. Once again she tried to make sense of it and failed. The brush had hurt more, and yet hadn't made her cry. "Are you going to argue with me again?"

  "No." Her bottom was tender from the bath brush and the leather of the paddle stung. The heat built and she felt her heart give way." I promise." She bucked and whimpered.

  "Pull your PJ bottoms down."

  She dithered for a second; that paddle stung through her pajamas and she didn't imagine they offered her all that much protection. A sudden flurry of much harder swats made it clear just what a stupid idea hesitating was.

  She was pleading that she would and even reaching back trying to retroactively bare her bottom. No such luck, she had blown it. The spanking carried on until she was crying hard.

  "You are going to obey me. Every time." The paddle moved swiftly and with a fierce sting, over every bit of her bottom and thighs. He stopped and allowed her pleading to subside. It still amazed Cass how attuned her husband could be to her. "Breathe, baby. That's my sweet princess, that's my good girl." His hands roamed gently over her shoulders and up through her hair.

  "I'm sorry, I disobeyed you," she whispered. Obey was not a word she would ever use outside of the bedroom. She didn't think of herself in those terms. But here, with her bottom on fire, it was the perfect word. Perfect.