Hey, all. I made the initial request that led to RottenPines' wonderful "Wednesday Addams Is in Love" script, and the four spectacular fills that the script got from RubySeaWitch, Girl_In_Dungarees, HannahSlamma, and Singmypraise (I'm not linking their profiles directly so that they won't feel pressured to do this request).

Anyway, the idea for this sequel revolves around Wednesday being a sub. I find the idea funny on its own given her very dominant personality but, Wednesday being an Addams, nothing is done in half measures. She gets off on being whipped and beaten almost within an inch of her life. If her husband hasn't drawn blood by the end of a session, he hasn't fulfilled his marital duties.

As the scene opens, Wednesday is being shackled by her wrists from the chains that hang in their bedroom, voicing her own deadpan, macabre version of romantic foreplay to her beloved. Her arms are splayed outward and upward, her feet barely able to rest flat on the floor. She is left naked and exposed, ready and (almost imperceptibly) trembling in anticipation for her husband's love to rain down upon her body, blow by blow. She sees the riding crop in his hand.

With each strike, the monotone, stonefaced facade that we know as Wednesday Addams chips away. Every blow brings more emotion to her voice. What starts as disinterested-sounding acknowledgement that he's doing it correctly soon becomes polite requests for more, which soon becomes demands, then unabashed begging, then finally devolves into tearful praise for the man she loves. She is a raw nerve, disconnected from all the universe but her man, the chains, and the riding crop. She is free. Free from everything that could ever hold her back, including herself. The pain frees her. HE frees her.

The strikes land everywhere: her shoulder blades, the small of her back, her breasts, her thighs, and even (at her insistence) directly between her legs. The last one results in an explosion of agony that rocks her body to its core, and the most uncontrollable orgasm she's ever experienced. In that moment, she shouts, at the top of her lungs, the joy that she's been hiding from him all day. Two words that fill her dark soul with a supernova of light.

"I'M PREGNANT!"

Those words are the last coherent thought she's able to articulate before her brain completely shuts down. She hangs limply from the restraints, convulsing and trembling, struggling to form words beyond unintelligible slurs as residual orgasms continue to rock her body. She comes back to the world of the living realizing that she's being kissed. He has her slumped form in his arms, and he's kissing her more passionately than she can remember. She enjoys the rather vanilla expression of love for a moment, and some tender words of devotion are exchanged... but then she's ready for round two. She's not nearly in enough agony to call it quits for the night. Hell, she could probably walk right now if he unchained her, and that's obviously unacceptable.

He hesitantly grabs the riding crop and... barely contacts her with it. It was a pathetic blow. More importantly, it did nothing for her. She asks what the Hell he's doing. He stammers before simply saying that she's pregnant. Back to deadpan, she responds:

"I know I'm pregnant. Now start hitting me."

You can end on that, or you can draw out the joke of her desperately trying to get him to put some force behind his swings again.