Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
Chapter One
Imogen frowned as she watched her husband, Adam, clear the table after dinner. Despite her feeling quite hungry, she had picked at her food with the intention of making him believe she was unwell. Irritatingly, he hadn’t taken the bait and was happily whistling as he scraped the leftovers into the bin and loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, without comment about her barely touched meal.
Returning to where she sat at the dining table, Adam leaned forward, kissed her softly on the lips, took her hand, and led her through to the living room, still whistling cheerfully. She scowled when he switched on the TV and inserted a DVD into the player before sitting down on the sofa and snuggling his pretty young wife up in his arms.
As Adam settled down to watch the movie and held her close to him, gently stroking her long blonde curls, her mind was elsewhere. She knew that he was working from home this week, and she desperately wanted to stay home with him, even just for one day, but her attempts at faking sickness had so far gone unnoticed. Her stomach grumbled in protest, and she clamped a hand over her flat tummy, trying to silence its objection to not being fed.
She scowled, wondering what else she could do to persuade her husband to let her stay home with him tomorrow. She didn’t want to be too naughty because then she would be spanked for real, and she did not like that at all. She liked fun spankings and the other imaginative, playful punishments Adam often devised. She smiled, thinking fondly about the fun they often had, but her smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a sullen pout. She squirmed in her seat, recalling how too many times her well thought out plans backfired and ultimately she ended up finding it difficult to sit comfortably.
She sighed and glanced at the TV screen, watching Nicolas Cage and trying to recall which movie Adam had chosen for their Sunday night viewing. They always enjoyed a movie at the end of the weekend, before they returned to work on Monday. Imogen really looked forward to this little ritual, though she much preferred her weekends when Adam indulged her with their age play fantasies, but she reluctantly accepted they’d been too busy recently—or at least Adam had been, she thought petulantly.
She pouted and wondered if they would ever again find time to have some Daddy and his little girl play. Smiling, she recalled when Adam had first suggested introducing age play to their relationship over two years earlier. She had initially been hesitant to indulge in such activities, but she had quickly discovered a shared love of such things. She had been amazed when that type of play almost always took away the stresses of their busy lives, and now she couldn’t get enough of it.
One of the best things about the weekends when she played at being Adam’s little girl, she thought, as she shoved her thumb into her mouth and sucked it, was that she got to choose the movie they would watch. She immediately removed her thumb from her mouth, snuggled closer to Adam and grinned, thinking how she would have chosen The Little Mermaid tonight, which would more than likely have driven her daddy mad due to the fact they had seen it so many times. She suddenly giggled loudly and hugged Adam tighter.
“Immy, The Wicker Man isn’t supposed to be a funny movie. Why are you laughing?” he asked, leaning back and looking at her with confusion.
Imogen tipped back her head and grinned up at him. “I was just thinking how nice it would be to watch The Little Mermaid instead, Daddy,” she said hopefully, frowning when he immediately shook his head.
“Not tonight,” he smiled, looking at his watch and leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “In fact, it’s probably a little late for us to be getting into this,” he added, reaching for the remote control and switching off the TV. “I think my little girl’s ready for bed,” he stated, kissing her once more. He affectionately ruffled her blonde curls, rose to his feet, and pulled her up from the sofa.
“Right, little girl,” he smiled, quickly turning her away from him and landing a gentle smack on her bum, which made her shriek with delight. “I want you up those stairs now, washed and in your pyjamas. If you’re not ready when I get there, it’ll be a smacked bottom for you,” he playfully warned.
Imogen beamed brightly, kissed him quickly on the lips, and ran towards the stairs. She raced up to the bathroom, tore off her clothes—apart from her pink cotton panties—and threw them in a heap on the floor, grabbing her toothbrush and quickly cleaning her teeth. When she turned around to head into the bedroom and put her pyjamas on, she was delighted to find Adam’s large frame blocking the doorway, a stern look on his face.
“Look at this mess,” he said, indicating the clothes strewn all over the floor.
Imogen chewed her lower lip and looked to the floor, her pussy twitching when Adam scolded her. She hated to be in real trouble with her daddy, but she loved it when they fooled around and he pretended to be angry with her. Glancing up and seeing the playful twinkle in his eyes, she realised this was one of those times.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered, squatting down to pick up the discarded clothing and dropping it into the laundry basket. “I didn’t mean to be a naughty girl,” she pouted, shoving her thumb into her mouth as she approached him and looked up with big blue sad eyes. “Please don’t spank me, Daddy,” she begged incoherently with her thumb still stuck in her mouth. She struggled to keep the smile off her face at the realisation that she was finally going to get a bit of playtime with her daddy before bed.
“Immy, I think a spanking is just what you need,” he told her, grasping her arm and marching her to their bedroom, smacking her bottom with each step they took. “I can see I’ve left your behaviour unchecked for too long,” he scolded, stopping to land a slightly harder smack on her jiggling bum.
Imogen squealed with both shock and delight. His smacks were hard, but when her daddy sat down on the bed, she willingly placed herself across his lap, without hesitation.
She shuffled herself into a more comfortable position and smiled when she felt his arm wrap snugly around her waist. Allowing herself to relax fully, she sighed with pleasure when he rested his hand gently on her bottom.
The instant his big hand smacked down on her slender bottom, Imogen beamed with delight. She loved her daddy’s playful spankings, which he often told her were a gentle reminder for her to be a good girl. Only if she was naughty did the smacks get harder, and Imogen had no intention of getting that kind of spanking tonight. She grinned and wiggled her bottom as her daddy’s hand slowly warmed her seat.
She squirmed with pleasure when he continued to spank her bottom gently over the seat of her pink panties. After several dozen spanks, he gripped the waistband of her underwear and she helpfully raised her hips, smiling brightly when he whisked the garment down to her knees.
She sighed happily when her daddy lifted his knee, pushing her bottom up higher. A hard smack stung her bottom, and she instinctively reached back, smiling when her daddy grasped her wrist and held her arm against her back. She loved being held securely across his lap. It made her feel safe and loved.
Glancing over her shoulder, she watched her daddy raise his hand high before cracking it down on her upturned bare bottom. She shrieked loudly, kicking her legs as his hand smacked down once more.
“Bad girl,” he scolded, spanking the centre of her bottom numerous times.
Imogen squirmed, feeling the burn in her bottom increase, and soon she was howling and kicking her legs, her daddy’s stinging smacks landing randomly across her bottom and upper thighs.
“Please, Daddy, I’ll be a good girl,” she promised, but the smile on her face indicated she was not entirely unhappy with her current predicament.
She sighed with contentment when Adam stopped spanking and gently rubbed her hot bottom. Shuffling forward slightly, she raised her bottom towards his hand and opened her legs wide. She purred with delight as his hand trailed between her legs and his fingers found her growing wetness. When his fingers probed her moist pussy, she moaned with pleasure.
His hand moved away and she whimpered when it smacked down on her pussy, before her daddy returned to spanking her bottom once more. She was desperate for him to touch her, and as her squirming bottom quickly turned red under her daddy’s firm hand, her pussy became even moister. She gasped with pleasure when his fingers sought out her wetness once more and he rubbed her hard clit.
“Such a naughty little girl,” he sighed, quickly removing his hand.
Imogen opened her legs and thrust her bottom out towards him. “Please,” she begged, yelping with shock when her daddy’s hand smacked her pussy slightly harder than she was comfortable with. “Ouch, Daddy,” she shrieked, closing her legs immediately, the tender flesh of her pussy smarting and a frown spoiling her pretty, elfin features.
“Now, young lady,” he scolded, “get yourself into bed. And keep those panties down,” he added sternly.
Imogen grinned, immediately jumping up and leaping into bed. She smiled brightly, lying down on her back and spreading her legs wide, her smile widening as her daddy climbed on top of her and entered her gently. Whilst he slowly made love to her, she kissed him softly.
“Daddy,” she said breathlessly, gasping and raising her hips from the bed to take him deeper. “Can I stay home with you tomorrow, please?” she pleaded, throwing her head back as he thrust harder into her. His cock was so big and hard, and she felt sure this was the ideal time to get anything she wanted from him.
“No,” he grunted, thrusting roughly into her, tugging up her top and taking her small breast in his mouth. Imogen groaned with pleasure when he sucked her nipple, pinching it lightly with his teeth.
“Oh, Daddy,” she gasped, raising her hips up to meet his thrusts. “I miss you so much, please let me stay home…” Her words trailed off when he grasped her hips, pulled her upwards and rammed into her, releasing her breast and grunting as he suddenly emptied his seed into her.
Adam quickly rolled off her and lay on his back.
Imogen smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him. “Can I stay home with you tomorrow, Daddy?” she asked once more. “Please,” she grinned, batting her eyelashes at him coyly.
She chewed her lip anxiously when her daddy gazed at her coolly. “Immy, I said no. If you ask again, I’ll give you the type of spanking you don’t like,” he threatened.
“But, Daddy,” she persisted, climbing on top of him and rubbing herself against his now flaccid cock.
“Immy,” he said sternly, leaning sideways and picking up the hairbrush from the bedside table. “If you want this applied hard to your bare bottom, carry on the way you are,” he warned.
Imogen shook her head and climbed across to her half of the bed, laying on her side with her back to him, her thumb in her mouth. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her pouting lower lip trembled as she thought how unfair her daddy was being. After all, she was only trying to spend some time with him.
“Immy,” he said more gently, putting the hairbrush down and snuggling up against her back. “You’re only working half a day tomorrow. I wish you could stay home all day with me, but I have an important project I need to get on with this week. Be a good girl, go to work in the morning, and when you get home, I promise I’ll take an hour or two off to reward you for being Daddy’s good girl,” he offered, tweaking her nipple gently.
Imogen smiled, blinked back her tears, and turned to face him, kissing him tenderly. “Daddy, you’ll have the rest of the week to work on your project,” she smirked, covering his face with kisses.
She pouted when her daddy shook his head.
“Immy, I said no,” he sighed, fixing her with a stern look. “Any more nonsense and you’ll be sleeping on your tummy tonight,” he warned.
Remembering the hairbrush was within easy reach of her daddy, she sensibly closed her eyes and didn’t say another word. She’d work on him again in the morning, she thought, snuggling up close to him. Content after their spontaneous bout of sex, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to overcome her.
* * *
“Come on, sleepyhead, time for work.”
Imogen blinked several times, her vision slowly clearing until she finally managed to open her eyes fully and rolled towards Adam, who was leaning over her and shaking her gently. She immediately pouted, telling him sulkily, “I don’t feel well”, closing her eyes when he pressed his hand against her forehead, checking her temperature like he would a small child.
“You don’t feel like you’ve got a temperature,” he told her, frowning when her pout grew.
“I feel sick and dizzy,” she complained, looking at him with what she hoped was a pitiful expression. “I think I’d better stay home today,” she quickly—and hopefully—added. She swallowed anxiously, watching Adam closely.
He sat up and looked at her with evident concern. His brow was furrowed and his expression stern. His deep brown eyes narrowed whilst he gazed at her thoughtfully.
“Immy, I hope this has nothing to do with our conversation last night,” he said grimly.
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. Holding her breath, she wondered if her plan to get the day off work had been foiled.
She breathed a sigh of relief when his face finally relaxed and he stood up. She smiled and watched him leave the room before snuggling back down under the covers. She planned to sleep for a couple more hours, then she would go downstairs to join him. She didn’t want to make him suspicious by getting out of bed straight away, especially as he was fond of telling her that she needed a rocket up her butt to get her out of bed most mornings.
Imogen knew Adam had a big project to complete, and she recalled his stern warning the night before when she tried to sway him, but she was certain he could spare a day—or at least what would be left of it when she finally got up—to spend some time with her. It was only Monday, and he had the whole week ahead of him to get his work done, she reasoned. Surely one day wouldn’t matter. After all, he’d been so busy recently and there’d been no time for fun and games for almost three weeks, apart from the very brief spanking he had given her last night—and that almost went very wrong, she recalled with a shudder.
A few minutes later, Adam returned and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. He smiled brightly back at her, showing off perfect white teeth. She had a sudden urge to kiss him and desperately wanted to make love to him once more, but she quickly fought back the urge to seduce him, realising that for now, at least, she needed to give the appearance of being unwell. Closing her eyes, she feigned illness and reluctantly resisted her gorgeous husband, telling herself that she could do that later, when she miraculously felt better—by which time it would be much too late to go to work and they could pass her sickness off as a tummy bug or something.
“Do you need Daddy to look after you today, Immy?” he asked, startling her with his question.
She immediately opened her eyes and smiled brightly, nodding enthusiastically. This had been much easier to swing than she could ever have imagined possible.
“Immy, do you promise me this has got nothing to do with last night’s suggestion that I should let you stay home?” he asked.
Imogen lowered her gaze. “No, Daddy. I really don’t feel well,” she complained, glancing up at him with wide eyes and hoping that she looked as ill as she was trying to convey.
“Right, little girl, let’s take a look at you,” he said, pulling her out of bed and tugging her pyjama bottoms down and guiding her quickly across his lap.
Imogen gasped and tried to push herself back up. “Daddy, what are you doing?” she wailed.
“Hold still,” he scolded, ignoring her question and landing a sharp smack on her bottom.
She held her breath when her daddy’s hand quickly moved away from her bottom and she felt his body lean sideways. She didn’t dare to look around to see what he was doing, fearful that he was reaching for an implement to use instead of his hand. He didn’t normally stop at one smack.
Seconds later, she realised too late what he had been doing and why he had taken her across his lap as he firmly grasped one of her buttocks and pulled it aside, crudely exposing her anus. Before her mind could fully process what he was about to do, his well-greased finger insistently pressed against her tight bottom hole. She immediately tensed her butt cheeks.
“No, Daddy,” she begged, kicking her legs frantically.
“Imogen, calm down,” he scolded, taking a firm grip around her waist. “You have ten seconds to stop clenching, young lady,” he warned her. “After that, I’ll get the hairbrush, see if that will help you relax this naughty bottom.”
Her eyes widened and she immediately relaxed her cheeks. She certainly did not want a spanking with the horrible hairbrush—she knew from bitter experience that would really hurt and would almost certainly make her cry.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whined, trying desperately to relax as his finger continued to push upwards, until it finally wormed its way into her bottom hole. She cringed as he probed around, thoroughly greasing her tight entrance. She hated him touching her bottom hole. She believed that was a dirty place for someone to touch, and it did not feel nice at all. It was human nature to try and prevent something being forced into an area that was designed to push things out, but her daddy was clearly not in agreement with her.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he eventually stopped probing and carefully removed his finger. She hoped he would be quick with the next part as she had no doubt in her mind now what he was about to do. She closed her eyes, dreading the procedure that always reduced her to begging. Although she loved pretending to be Adam’s little girl and she absolutely adored the playful spankings he gave her, the little girl dresses he put her into, the cuddles in front of the TV, and the games they played, she didn’t think she would ever get used to him taking her temperature in her bottom and putting other nasty things in there—although she made one exception to that rule. She absolutely adored anal sex, but she had a feeling that wouldn’t be top of her daddy’s list of priorities at this moment in time.
Trying her best to relax, she tried to convince herself that her temperature would be normal and he would simply put her into her babygirl pyjamas, take her downstairs, cuddle her up on his lap, and watch TV with her, hopefully until lunchtime. She looked forward to her afternoon nap, followed by yet another playful spanking on her bare bottom when her daddy woke her for a bath before dinner. She smiled as she planned out her day in her mind, convinced that nothing could go wrong.
Imogen’s daydreams were rudely interrupted when her daddy smacked her bottom sharply and reached across for the thermometer. Clenching her butt cheeks together, an automatic reaction every time he felt this awful procedure was necessary, she instinctively kicked her legs when she felt the tip of the thermometer pressing intrusively against her tight anus. Her daddy continued to apply firm pressure for several seconds, and she gritted her teeth, stubbornly squeezing her butt cheeks tightly together.
When she felt him remove the thermometer at last, after an unsuccessful attempt to seat it inside her bottom, she whimpered sadly, knowing full well what was coming next. She listened carefully and heard him put the thermometer down. She then tensed her bottom cheeks and waited in fearful anticipation of the first, stinging smack.
Finally, his hand smacked down hard on her bottom, and she squealed in pain. Without pausing, he landed several more hard smacks on her squirming bottom, until she protested loudly, “No Daddy!” She kicked her legs and begged him to stop, to no avail, and he landed more than a dozen hard smacks to the centre of her now stinging bottom.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I promise I’ll be a good girl!” she shrieked, relieved when his hand finally rested on her bottom and rubbed gently.
“Now hold still, or I’ll give you a proper spanking,” he warned, parting her butt cheeks once more.
Imogen clenched her fists and nodded, holding her breath and swallowing anxiously as she felt the thin wand slip past her reluctant sphincter and into her bottom hole. “Please take it out, Daddy,” she begged as the thermometer was eventually deeply seated inside her.
Unfortunately for Imogen, her pleas fell on deaf ears, and for the next few minutes she concentrated on her shallow breathing, her eyes screwed tightly shut, waiting anxiously for the thermometer to be taken out again. As usual, those few minutes squirming uncomfortably across her husband’s lap with a rectal thermometer poking out of her bottom hole felt like hours. She thought her daddy was very cruel, deliberately tormenting her by constantly twirling the thermometer inside her bottom hole, but she sensibly kept her thoughts to herself. She frowned and chewed anxiously on her lower lip, determined not to react and give him a reason to spank her hard once more.
Imogen released a deep breath and unclenched her small fists when the thermometer was eventually removed from her bottom. She looked at the palms of her hands and frowned at the marks left by her nails, which had pressed into the soft flesh as she resisted the thermometer’s intrusion into her bottom hole.
She waited anxiously for his verdict, and her heart sank when he patted her bottom gently and told her, “Your temperature’s fine, little girl, so I wonder if you’ve been telling me fibs about being sick.”
“No, Daddy,” she whined, averting her eyes as he helped her up and laid her on the bed beside him.
“Immy, you don’t have a temperature, and you certainly don’t look unwell,” he scolded her, looking into her eyes.
“My tummy hurts,” she lied, rubbing it and pouting. She was aware she needed to come up with a convincing reason why she was too ill to go to work. If not, she knew she was going to be punished hard. Ironically, that thought actually made her feel physically sick.
“Oh really, your tummy hurts?” he repeated. “I thought you said you felt sick and dizzy,” he reminded her.
Imogen bit her lip, cursing herself for forgetting the reason she’d given him for wanting to stay home, but he was making her anxious to the point that it was hard to keep up with the story she was telling.
She watched him get up and leave the room, and she instantly reached back and rubbed her bottom, angry with herself for managing to get herself into more trouble. She knew there would be consequences for telling lies, and she wasn’t keen to find out what he had in mind to teach her a lesson.
Watching the doorway anxiously, she briefly wondered what he was doing. When he returned a few minutes later and held up a large soap stick in one hand and a small disposable enema syringe in the other, she paled and anxiously clutched at her buttocks.
“Please,” she squealed, shuffling backwards across the bed, her hands never leaving her bottom cheeks. “No, Daddy,” she pleaded, her eyes fixated on his face as he sat down, put the two items on the bedside table, and grasped her by the elbow, pulling her quickly back across his lap.
“Immy, if you don’t have a temperature but your tummy is sore, you must need a little help to go potty,” he told her calmly, patting her bottom gently. “Daddy can help you with that.”
Imogen wailed and kicked her legs. “No, Daddy, I don’t need one of them,” she pleaded, desperate not to let him put the stinging soap into her bottom. That was one of the more horrible punishments her daddy used and was certainly not the reason she wanted to stay home with him today.
Keen to escape his clutches, she decided the truth was her only option. “I’m not really sick, Daddy,” she confessed. “I just wanted to stay home with you,” she added, hoping he would now tell her to get up, get dressed, and go to work. Staying home and having a fun day was no longer an option, and she realised that under the circumstances, she would much prefer to go to work. She knew she would receive a sore bottom when she returned home as he would surely spank her, but that was better than a nasty enema or an awful soap stick, which she did not need.
Needing to be released so she could get up and get away from her daddy, she swallowed nervously when he kept a tight grip on her, his hand continuing to pat her bottom gently.
“Well I’m pleased you’ve told me the truth eventually, but you are going to be punished for lying to me. You do realise that, don’t you, Imogen? Only bad girls tell lies to their daddies,” he scolded her.
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m not proper sick, but my tummy really does hurt a little,” she fibbed, backtracking quickly, fearful of the spanking she would get for telling lies. “But I don’t need the toilet, Daddy,” she protested. “That isn’t why it hurts!”
He reached across to the bedside table and she watched his hand closely, cringing when he picked up the thermometer again. “No, Daddy, I need to get ready for work!” she squealed, trying once more to push up and get onto her feet.
She yelped with shock when he pinned her down and thrust the end of the thermometer firmly back into her bottom. “Now, I’m not sure whether to believe you or not, Immy,” he said sternly. “Are you really sick but you’re simply fearful of an enema and soap stick, or have you been faking illness all along, as I suspected? We’d better double check your temperature,” he said firmly, pressing his finger against the base of the thermometer lodged inside her bottom.
Imogen bitterly regretted her decision to say that she was ill and wished she could go back to the moment when she woke up. This time she would kiss her husband good morning, give him a hug, and get ready for work before making breakfast. Her tummy growled at the thought of food, reminding her she had skipped dinner last night. She longed to return to their mundane routine, and as her plans quickly unravelled, she promised herself she would never feign sickness again.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a beeping noise. She turned her head quickly and was surprised to see Adam dialling a number on his phone. “Stay still,” he warned her, looking angry as he lifted the phone to his ear.
Imogen heard a muffled voice coming from the other end of the line before her daddy responded. “Hello, this is Imogen Matthews’ husband, Adam. I’m just letting you know she seems reluctant to come to work today and wanted me to phone in sick for her. I’ve checked her temperature, but she’s absolutely fine,” he said cheerfully, twirling the thermometer inside her bottom, making her cringe, “so it’s clear to me she just wanted to skive off work today.”
Imogen sighed deeply and squirmed across his lap. She wondered who he was speaking to and was relieved they could not see the humiliating way he was taking her temperature. But apart from her embarrassment, she also felt anger that he would tell tales on her.
“I wonder if you could do me a favour, Mr Jones,” Adam asked. Imogen squirmed more desperately at the realisation he was talking to her elderly boss. “I’d really appreciate it if you would call me and let me know if she doesn’t show up for work. I promise you that if that happens, I will deal with her very firmly,” he added.
Imogen closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to hear another word. She couldn’t believe how much her daddy was embarrassing her.
A minute or so later, Adam put the phone down, tugged the thermometer out of her rectum, and slapped her butt sharply. “Get up,” he told her, and Imogen quickly shuffled up from across her husband’s lap.
“Why did you say that to him?” she demanded petulantly, really angry that her boss knew she had intended to phone in sick when there was really nothing wrong with her.
“Would you rather I’d kept you home, given you an enema, and informed him I was doing that?” he asked her, regarding her sternly.
Imogen pouted and shook her head. “No,” she snapped, lowering her eyes when his brow furrowed in annoyance.
“Unless you want another spanking, young lady, I’d lose that attitude and get yourself ready for work. I can spank you again if necessary,” he warned. “I promise you that would not be a hardship.”
Imogen shook her head and stepped away from him.
“Immy,” Adam said, more calmly. “I know you miss spending time with me, and I miss you too,” he smiled, stroking her cheek gently. “This project is only temporary. It won’t last forever. I’ll probably be finished with it by the end of the week, and once it’s done, I can spend lots of time with my little girl, making up for lost time,” he smiled.
“I need to go into town now,” he told her, caressing her cheek gently. “I love you. Now be a good girl and get yourself to work, because if I get a call from Mr Jones to say you haven’t gone in, you needn’t think about sitting down any time soon,” he warned her. “And if you make that call necessary, believe me when I say I will let Mr Jones be a witness to your punishment,” he told her, turning and leaving before a red faced Imogen could respond.
She fumed as she listened to his footsteps going down the stairs, and as soon as she heard the front door close, she ran to the window, peeked out through the curtains, and watched her husband drive away. Once she saw his car turn out of the end of the street, she stormed across the room and threw herself face down on the bed.
She was furious that he had humiliated her by phoning her boss. She felt his actions were totally unnecessary and really hoped Mr Jones wouldn’t say anything to her. She did not want to have to explain to him why she hadn’t wanted to go to work, especially when she was hopeful of being promoted soon. Mr Jones had told her as much, and she couldn’t believe her husband might have jeopardised her chances with his foolish phone call.
After lying face down for several minutes, pounding her fists on the bed and using language that would ensure she wouldn’t sit comfortably for days if not weeks if Adam heard her, she finally started to calm down and realised that she needed to get ready for work if she didn’t want to make things even worse for herself. Despite her anger, she knew Adam would follow through on his threat if she didn’t go to work, and she wasn’t about to make things worse than they already were.
Don’t get mad, get even, she thought as she sighed and got up from her bed and started to get dressed.
Her anger slowly dissipated, and she smiled menacingly as she planned her revenge. Her husband had humiliated her, and although he didn’t know it yet, he was about to get a taste of his own medicine. Her smile widened.
Imogen picked up the phone and grinned, feeling sure that when she returned home from work at lunchtime, her husband would realise what it was like to be thoroughly humiliated and he would be keen to make amends for his call to her boss.
Two can play your game, Daddy, she thought triumphantly as someone answered her call and she started to speak.