Ann: The Married Years Ch. 01

Time passed slowly; the clock leaning against the base of the wall in the dining room counting off the seconds. It sounded louder as the night went on, a cruel reminder of the fight itself, as it was the one item she'd hoped to hang first. She couldn't see it, not only because there were no lights on, but also because it was on the other side the couch that separated the living area from the dining room. But she knew it was there, ticking... tormenting.

She saw headlights shining against the big apartment building at the top of the hill, the beams jumping as the vehicle moved toward it. Then they turned, heading down the short street at the top. She'd seen that a couple of times, each vehicle turning to the right into one of the parking lots for the complex. But this time, the car turned toward the house, the lights shining right in the eyes, before pulling into the turn-around space in front of their home. She saw Neil get out of the car, the automatic garage door going up. It was one of the few things he'd been able to install in the house because it wasn't inside the main structure. Hearing it close, she waited for him to come inside.

She heard his keys jingling, one of them sliding into the doorknob and turning, opening the door that wasn't locked because she hadn't gone to bed. She heard him groan as he slipped off his shoes, not bothering to turn on the light. Throwing his keys on the counter next to the phone cradle, he moved to the fridge, opening it up, the light temporarily filling the kitchen until it closed. A bottle opened, the cap thrown in the trash as he moved into the living room, plopping down in his new Lay-Z-Boy, a slow sigh escaping as he brought the beer to his lips.

She could hear him swallow. She sat there, silent, unable to speak... not feeling she should talk. Somewhere in her brain, she'd switched into a submissive role. She wasn't sure if she was Annabelle, but she would be if that's what Neil demanded. Her gaze shifted from the window to the floor, staring at his bare feet, watching as his toes dug into the carpet.

Neil was exhausted. It had been a long, miserable shift, the problems coming one after the other in what seemed like an endless parade. They had nothing to do with his department. They were all upstream; the jobs that he was supposed to manufacture coming to him in horrible shape. But just because they weren't technically his responsibility, that didn't make things better. He still had to deal with them.

He'd no sooner solve one issue when another would crop up. He'd changed the production schedule so many times during the shift, the paper it was printed on looked like the first draft of a science term paper. It took him forty minutes after the shift was over just to write out all the issues that had come up for Jeff, unwilling to trust that Conrad, his counterpart in the department now working third shift, would relay the information correctly. The last thing he wanted was to have Jeff walk into his morning production meeting blind.

"I don't think that could have gone worse," he said to himself as he shut his eyes, taking another swig from the ice cold bottle.

He felt depressed, and it had nothing to do with the fight he'd had with Ann. In fact, he'd forgotten all about it just minutes into his shift when the first problem of the night landed uninvited onto his lap. He took such pride in his job, he felt he'd let the company down, even though he and his crew had nothing to do with the problems. They could only react to them, and they'd done a great job of it at that. But as he sat there, it was only natural for him to second-guess himself.

When he finally opened his eyes, he felt a little better, mostly because the beer was cold and it was taking the edge off. So was the way his toes felt in the carpet. As his eyes started to adjust to the darkness, he noticed something in front of him; something that normally wouldn't be there.

"Ann?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting... for what?"

"You," she said, staring at the floor, her voice low and monosyllabic.

"For me? H... how long have you been there?"

"I don't know, couple of hours, maybe. Ever since I called you"

"Since you called... Ann, that was over six hours ago."

"Six hours, then."

"But why?"

"Dunno."

"Ann, what's going –"

"Annabelle," she interjected, convinced that's who she needed to be. It was who she thought she had to be, given the situation.

"Annabelle? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm Annabelle."

"Uh... no, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Are you saying that because we had a fight?"

"Yes."

"Look, if you want to talk... then talk. These one word answers are annoying. And you're not Annabelle."

"Why not?'

"Why should you be? You weren't thinking about being her this morning when you got up. You certainly weren't thinking about being her in the last week. It usually takes you quite a while to work yourself up into that kind of thing, so why now?"

"I deserve to be punished. The fight... the fight was entirely my fault. All of it."

"Well, I agree with you on that last part, but I'm not going to punish you."

"What's the point of having Annabelle as a part of who I am if you're not going to –"

"Look, Ann, let's get one thing straight. We're going to have fights. They're a part of any relationship. But you need to know that I will never let you be Annabelle, or treat you like Annabelle when we have one... not before, not during, and not after."

"Why not?"

"Because a fight has nothing to do with our sex life, that's why. It's just something that can happen from time to time. And I don't want to ever be angry or upset when I'm doing that with you. When you're Annabelle, there needs to be love in my heart. And while I will always love you, I was having a hard time liking you for a little while this afternoon... if that makes any sense."

"I guess it does. And I can understand not doing it in the heat of the moment. But where's the harm afterward?"

"Because I'd be thinking about why we were doing it, and that would ruin it for me."

She sat silently, still in a submissive posture in front of him, pondering what he'd said. It all made sense. But that didn't mean the fire that had been burning in her loins for the last couple of hours was going to go away. She'd been thinking, almost dreaming about being abused... or more accurately, being punished. Now, that itch didn't look like it was going to be scratched any time soon.

"Maybe that's going to be my punishment," she sighed, thinking about having to deal with the mental anguish of how she was feeling and how that desire was going to be denied.

Neil sensed the inner turmoil in his wife. She felt bad about what happened. She even admitted it had been her fault. And while he didn't hear it from her mouth in person, or directly on the phone, he'd listened to enough voicemails to know she was truly sorry. She'd said it so many times and in so many ways he could still hear the desperation in her voice on the messages. Yet from the way she was sitting, staring at the floor with her head bowed, he knew how she was feeling inside now... he just didn't know for sure what to do about it.

Hearing her sigh, he finished his beer, setting it down on the small table beside his chair. He knew what she wanted, but he also knew there was a very big line he wasn't willing to cross. Finding a way to bridge the wide gap that seemed to separate the two of them was going to be the problem. But he'd been solving problems all night; what was one more?

"Anna Renee, get me another beer," he said sternly.

"Anna Renee?"

"We've already established you're not going to be Annabelle, and you're not Anna either. I think this is a case where you aren't a dirty slut, and you weren't being naughty. You were bad, just like when you were a little girl."

"So I have a fourth name now?"

"Not really. You've always had that name, and you're hardly ever Ann, anyway," he shrugged.

"Okay, Neil," she said as she got up off the floor for the first time in hours, walking over to the fridge to get him another Heineken. Twisting off the top, she threw the cap away like he had, handing him the bottle when she came back.

"Get undressed," he said as he took a drink, closing his eyes again, slowly rocking back and forth.

"What?"

"I said get undressed, please."

"Uh... okay. What are we doing?"

"I don't know yet. I'm still coming to grips with all of this. I just know we're not going to go as far as Annabelle, but you were bad."

"Yes, I was. And I'm sorry."

"I know. And now, for some reason, you're also horny."

"Very."

"Then get undressed."

She did as she was told, pulling the snug long sleeved Henley over her head before peeling down her tight Levi's and stepping out of them. She stood naked in front of her husband, wondering what she was supposed to do next. The silence grew deafening as she watched him scanning her body up and down, leering at her as he sipped his beer.

"Do... do you want me to get a pair of heels?" she asked nervously.

"No," he said quickly, as if he was perturbed that she had broken the silence. "You're not a slut right now. You're my wife, and you're being punished."

"You're punishing your wife?" she said, not understanding the difference.

"This isn't sexual, Anna Renee."

Her voice quivered; the disappointment showing in her response. "It's... not?"

"No, it's not. Not right now." That glimmer of hope raised her spirits, at least a little. That is until he said, "Right now, it's about punishing you."

Another sip of his beer unnerved her. The way he was abusing her with his eyes made a shiver run through her body. She could feel the heat of his gaze, the intensity in his piercing stare making her weak in the knees as his mind worked. She could also feel herself getting wetter by the second.

"Get my keys," he finally announced, his voice calm but stern. She returned, holding them out, but he merely pointed at the front door. "Front passenger seat."

It was a very puzzling request; more of a demand, really. Another shiver ran through her when her hand touched the doorknob. It was actually an order; she was about to obey her husband as his dutiful wife. Her wedding vows ran through her head, her eye catching the glimpse of her ring as she turned the knob. The ring dangling from her dripping pussy flashed through her mind next; no small coincidence that it was specifically designed as a mate to the one on Neil's finger.

Her friend Missy had seen to that detail when she had it made, going to the same jewelry store Ann had purchased the wedding rings, wanting to make the pussy ring more special. But she would have no idea of the impact it would have. Ann saw it as more than just a sexy accessory. It was the symbolism it represented. To her, it proved in no uncertain terms that she belonged to Neil.

That point hit home as she walked to the car, the nippy air flowing over her naked body. She avoided the grass, instead taking her time to walk down the sidewalk and up the pavement to the passenger side of the car. She was exposed in her own front yard, but with it being late and dark, it was unlikely she'd be seen. But she didn't care. Her husband had given her a specific instruction, and she was going to carry it out no matter what.

The Super Bowl party came to mind again. She loved being an exhibitionist. The fact that she was inebriated at the time simply gave her an easy excuse to show it without the fear of being condemned by the others at the party. She could play it off that she was drunk, even though she knew exactly what she was doing. That Martina and Carol had actually started the stripping had been a stroke of luck; she would never have been the first to shed her clothes. The most exciting part about being exposed in places where she shouldn't be was being made to do it. When everyone at the party looked to her after the other two had stripped, she reasoned that she didn't have a choice, and that turned her on.

As exciting as she was then, this was better. She could feel the wetness between her legs, her heart pounding as she put the key into the passenger door to open it. Now, she really was being made to expose herself, and the difference was incredible. Both turned her on, but the idea that she didn't have a choice at the moment reminded her of so many things that Neil had made her do before. She may not have been Annabelle, but Anna Renee had a side to her that seemed very similar. She just didn't know how yet.

There, in the seat, was the culprit. Ann sighed as she looked at it, almost afraid to pick it up. It was like a weapon, and she didn't want to get her fingerprints on it, knowing it had been used to commit a crime. She didn't want to touch it for fear of being incriminated.

But it was too late for that. She had already pleaded guilty. That was the point of him making her walk out in the cold to retrieve it.

Picking up the hammer, she locked the door, closing it quietly before walking back into the house. Neil was still sitting in his chair, nursing his beer, slowly rocking back and forth as he waited... patiently.

She smiled and shook her head, thinking about that; yet another reminder of the argument. It was his patience versus her lack of it, and as she gripped the cold rubber handle of the hammer, she realized he'd won that battle too.

"Here's the hammer, Neil," she said softly, holding it out as she stood in front of him with the keys in her other hand.

"Put the keys back," he said simply, making her do one more mundane task before returning to the spot in the carpet, one she thought would become worn the way things were going.

"Do you want this?" she asked, her hand trembling as she held out the tool once again.

"No. Hold it," he growled, his steeled blue eyes fixed on her body once again. She felt like an object, only there for his visual entertainment. The longer he stared, the more self conscious she felt... and the wetter her pussy became.

She started wiggling, shifting from foot to foot; the damp feeling between her slightly parted legs starting to drive her nuts. She could feel a trail running down her thigh now. It was like an itch, the desperate need to scratch it overwhelming her brain. But she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't. As much as she wanted to reach down and touch her throbbing clit, the expression on his face warned her not to.

It came as a surprise when she heard herself whimper, sounding like a little girl. She wasn't sure it was her at first, not until the corner of his mouth turned up in a sexy smirk. She could tell from his reaction that it was just what he was hoping would happen. He let her stand there a while longer, the sense of nervousness she was experiencing seeming all too familiar.

"God... I sure feel like Annabelle," she thought, the conflicting pangs of desire and desperation battling for control over her sanity.

It startled her when he finally spoke again, his voice composed, but very firm.

"Are you ready, Anna Renee?"

"Yes," she found herself answering, not thinking of what he was talking about or what the ramifications of what she'd just said would mean. She didn't care. Whatever it was he had in store for her, it would be better than what he was making her do at the moment, which was waiting. He was testing her patience, the very thing that had started the spat in the first place.

"What do you want?"

"I... I want...." Her voice trailed off, fearful that if she admitted just how much she needed to cum, she'd be denied it even longer. Suddenly a hot flash run through her, the revelation of whom she was supposed to be at the moment came crashing into her brain. "I want to be punished."

"You are being punished. Now, what do you really want?"

Batting her eyes, she gathered the courage to tell Neil what he wanted to hear. "I want to cum... please."

"Then go ahead. Cum."

"Will you help me?" she asked, kicking herself the moment those words came out of her mouth. She could tell by the way he was staring at her that she already knew the answer.

"No. Lie on your back and spread your legs."

She did as she was told, keeping her feet on the floor, her knees pointing at the ceiling. Setting the hammer to the side, she spread her thighs. Leaning on her left elbow, she snuck her right hand down her abdomen.

"No hands," he commanded, "and no looking at me. I told you to lie on your back."

"No hands?"

"That's right. Not even on your tits."

"Well how am I supposed to cum then?"

"You're the one that was so damn intent on using that hammer today. So... use it!"

She looked to her side, seeing the tool lying there on the floor, the silver clawed head making her cringe. But she knew that wasn't what he meant. Her eyes were drawn to the shaft, the manufacturers name etched in yellow lettering on the side, the black rubber grip calling to her. If she was going to cum, she knew what she had to do.

"Come here Stanley," she said out loud, reading the name on the shaft as she picked it up.

Neil let out a little chuckle, but Ann remained focused. She put her head back onto the carpet, reaching down between her legs. Her left hand was on the cold metal head, holding it firmly. Her right held the middle of the rubber grip, not wanting to come close to touching her skin for fear that he might tell her to stop. She wasn't going to take any chance of violating his edict that she couldn't touch herself.

Running the end of the handle through her labia, she sucked in her breath, feeling the cold, lifeless tip spreading her pussy. She was so wet she didn't need to get herself warmed up. The lewdness of the position she was in and what she was about to do had her mind swirling. Ramming the hammer deep inside her, she let out an anguished squeal.

She tried to fuck herself, but the way she had positioned her legs didn't allow for it. It was more the fact that he had insisted that she not look at him, telling her to keep her head on the floor. She found herself pulling her knees back, curling her body, contorting herself so that her ass was high in the air, her body supported by her neck and shoulders. Gripping the shiny silver head with both hands, she plunged the grip deeper, feeling her pussy welcome it.

"Oh God," she panted, the orgasm she so desperately needed fast approaching. She began ramming it in and out of her cunt in desperation. Squishing sounds filling the room, loud groans accompanied them.

It was all too much. What she had done. What she was doing. Everything that had transpired to bring her to that moment weighed on her like an anvil. She was actually fucking herself with a hammer, and it was bringing her more pleasure than she could have ever imagined. The whole thing seemed so wrong... so perverse in a way. And yet it was also poetic.

Her climax rose inside, her body reacting violently. Her legs locked, toes pointing straight, her thigh and calf muscles straining as she fucked herself harder.

"FUUUUCCCCKKKKK!" she screamed, her arms straining to keep going at the torrid pace she'd set.

As soon as she started cumming, her body gave out. She recoiled, her eyes clamping shut, her lower half falling to the floor as she began rolling around like she was having some kind of convulsion. The hammer fell out of her pussy from the way she'd flopped; her arms stretching over her head. Even in the throes of her orgasm, she somehow had the presence of mind not to touch herself.

Catching her breath, she remained still, her legs spread open, the end of the hammer pointing lewdly at her dripping pussy. Neil stared at her, his heart pounding, along with the rock hard cock trapped inside his khaki dress pants.