Taming Naia

by Natasha Knight

  “You have a strange way of showing it,” he teased.

  Epilogue

  Naia situated herself on her knees in the living room. She had gotten home later than she had planned and hoped everything was as it should be. It was Friday night, maintenance night. Their weekly ritual. However, between Liam’s work and some unexpected travel on her part, they’d missed the last month of Fridays and hadn’t been able to make it up. Tonight would take care of that though, Liam had promised that much. And she was looking forward to it more than she thought she should be.

  It had been eight months since her move to Denver and their wedding was scheduled for the end of the year. Naia found herself settling easily into her new life with Liam; she felt at home. Work was going well, she liked her colleagues, and the job itself challenged her. And, most important, things were moving well between her and Liam. Everything just felt good. They’d been playing for longer and longer periods and Naia had found a certain peace in surrendering to him. Her submission had ventured out of the bedroom, but it had been so gradual and natural a transition she had barely noticed. Liam was always respectful and loving and it just felt right.

  In fact, she had been the one to take Liam by surprise when she had requested a weekly maintenance night. Both of them were busy and she not only wanted but needed the scheduled evenings that usually began with a full physical inspection, continued with a spanking—unless a more severe punishment was deemed necessary—and ended with incredible sex. Although she didn’t care for the nights she was not allowed to orgasm; that was still difficult for her.

  The headlights of Liam’s SUV shone through the window as he turned onto the driveway. The car door opened to the accompaniment of dinging and a snippet of music. Naia’s heart raced in anticipation and she mentally ticked off all the things she’d done to prepare for the evening as well as all the things she hadn’t.

  She heard the front door open and close, his keys being placed on the table. Her heartbeat picked up speed when footsteps sounded his approach.

  “Naia,” he said, setting his case on the couch and walking straight to her.

  She met his eyes briefly.

  “It’s always so good to see you after a long day.” He reached down to take her hands and lift her to her feet while kissing her softly on the cheek.

  She dared another glance into his eyes. He was already aroused and she liked the idea that he, like she, had likely been anticipating this all day.

  “Hi,” she said. It was all she could get out before his kiss covered her mouth.

  Liam stepped back and held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. All she wore were white lace panties and black patent leather pumps with straps around the ankles. It was her maintenance night outfit, chosen by him.

  He stepped back and took off his jacket and tie, then unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt before rolling both sleeves up.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you,” he said.

  She smiled. “Would you like a drink, professor?”

  “That would be lovely,” he said, settling on the couch.

  Without a word, she walked slowly to the bar, aware of his eyes on her as she did. She dropped two ice cubes into the glass and poured the whiskey before turning back to him. This was their ritual. She’d make his drink and stand before him while he drank it and conducted his inspection of her body. Tonight was no different.

  He took the drink from her outstretched hand and thanked her. She stood so she was just inches from him and assumed his preferred position—legs spread to shoulder width, back straight, hands clasped behind her head. That part had taken some getting used to, but it felt good now. It never failed to arouse her, in fact, and he no longer needed to ask her to do it.

  Ice clinked around in the glass, but she kept her gaze on the opposite wall.

  “Take your panties down,” he said.

  Without question or a moment of hesitation, she pulled them to just beneath her hips. She was fully aware that, depending on how closely he checked, she might receive a punishment tonight. She was banking on the fact he normally didn’t miss the little details.

  “I love…” he began, brushing a finger between her thighs.

  She swallowed.

  “That you’re always ready for me,” he continued. Her face burned red, a reaction she seemed not to be able to rid herself of. He reached out a finger and tested the skin. “Tsk, tsk,” he said.

  He’d noticed. Of course he would.

  He leaned back in his seat and waited.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Eyes on me,” he said.

  She met his gaze.

  “Explain.”

  “I was too late to make my appointment. It won’t happen again,” she said. Liam preferred her waxed every few weeks rather than shaved. He claimed her skin felt softer and although it hurt, she’d kept it up. This time, she’d not made her appointment soon enough before the studio filled up. “I have an appointment on Saturday, sir,” she said, not wholly sorry. She would be punished, she knew it. But the truth was, she wasn’t entirely dreading punishment. She also had ideas for the evening, although she still wasn’t sure if she’d have the guts to go through with them.

  He finished his drink and set it down.

  “We won’t miss maintenance nights going forward,” he said. “I accept my share of the responsibility and I promise I’ll be keeping a closer eye on things. Now, between this and the three weeks we’ve missed, I’m going to give you a punishment tonight. Make up for time lost. Do you consent?”

  “If you think that’s best, sir,” she answered, looking every bit the penitent.

  “Do you believe you deserve to be punished, Naia?” he probed as he always did on these nights. “Eyes on me,” he repeated the command.

  It was so much easier to look away.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, although she trembled a little. As much as she wanted it, pain was pain.

  He seemed pleased. Finishing his drink, he set the glass aside and reached a hand out to her. “Over my lap, let’s get you warmed up,” he said.

  Moving slowly into the required position, she draped herself over his thighs with her hands and feet on the floor, her bottom lifted, legs together.

  “Remember,” he began, taking her panties farther down her thighs but not taking them off completely. She liked the feeling; it was as though she were even more exposed than had she been fully naked. “Hands and feet stay on the floor, legs remain straight. And I want your bottom pushed out throughout your spanking.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, arching her back to lift her bottom higher, that act of offering herself to his hand making her wet sex wetter.

  “I think,” he began, caressing one cheek. He hadn’t spanked her in three weeks and she missed it. “You’re ready to take some strokes of the cane,” he said before the first spank landed on one cheek.

  She was going to get the cane. Naia held her position but couldn’t help clenching her bottom before softening it again.

  The second one landed, but she remained still. It didn’t hurt so much as leave a quick sting, but she knew it was just the beginning.

  “What do you think? Are you ready for the cane?” he asked.

  Yes, she was ready for the cane. She wanted it. She just couldn’t open her mouth to say it.

  He continued to spank her, alternating between cheeks before moving to her upper thighs. That always hurt the most.

  “Naia?” he asked, rubbing her bottom while he waited for her answer.

  “Yes,” she began, her voice breathy. She’d been thinking about a caning for weeks now, wondering how it would feel, wanting to know the sensation, wanting the pain. She’d come to find a rhythm in the hurt and Liam always managed to take her right to the edge but kept her from tipping over. “Yes, sir. I’m ready to take the cane.”

  Through the material of his pants, his thick cock pressed against her
belly and her breasts bounced with the strokes while he, without a word, resumed her spanking. She’d had much harder ones before and understood this was only preparation for what was to come.

  Memories of the first caning she had witnessed months ago still played vividly in her mind. She had seen more at the club in the last months and it had become one of her favorite scenes to watch. She might even say it was fast becoming an obsession.

  Although a few tears had slipped from her eyes, she didn’t fully cry during the spanking and before she knew it, he stood her up and stripped her panties off altogether. She’d learned not to reach back to rub her bottom but to allow herself to feel the residual burn after any punishment, and tonight was no different.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

  She walked ahead of him up the stairs and to their bedroom. Once they reached it, she stood at the foot of the bed and resumed the position she’d held earlier with her hands at the back of her head, waiting for his next instruction. He retrieved the cane, one very similar to the one used that first night at the club. She had never felt its sting; he had never pushed her to it. Here she was tonight though, both wanting and dreading the fact that she’d soon become all too familiar with the object.

  “How many strokes do you think you deserve, Naia?” he asked, holding the cane casually by his side while he came to stand inches from her.

  “Um, one, sir?” she asked, knowing full well it would be more than that but also knowing him well enough to start low.

  He smiled. “Nice try. Ten.”

  “Three.” No way on the ten.

  “Eight.”

  “Four.”

  “Seven,” he said, smiling.

  She knew he enjoyed these bartering sessions since he always had the last word anyway.

  “Five,” she said, and then added, “Professor.” She turned wide eyes to him. “I want to do this but I don’t know if I can. Please.”

  He nodded. “We’ll meet in the middle at six. Remember, you have your safe word and I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think you were ready. I’ve been watching you at the club—I’ve noticed your reactions.”

  She trusted him. There was no question about that. He took care of her, it was all there was to it. He’d never hurt her and had never pushed her too far. She had never had to use her safe words.

  Looking up at him, she felt no fear when she answered. “Okay, I trust you to know what’s best.” She wondered if he felt it too, this shift in their relationship.

  Liam smiled and brushed his lips over her cheek. He was the only man who made her go weak at the knees with just a kiss.

  “Stack the pillows at the foot of the bed, Naia.”

  She went around to collect the pillows and set them one on top of the other at the foot of the bed all while he watched.

  “Good girl. Now turn around, face the headboard, and bend over them. I won’t bind you unless you need me to.”

  She didn’t want to be bound; she wanted to give this to him. Casting one last glance at the cane, she turned and assumed the position he requested, laying her torso over the bed, her bottom raised higher by the pillows. She lifted her hips to present her bottom to him, keeping her legs together. She faced the headboard, her arms underneath her, her weight on her forearms.

  “Spread your arms out wide to the edges of the bed.”

  She did as he said, all the while imagining the picture they made—him behind her, cane in hand; her ready, willing, and waiting for punishment. Heat radiated through her, starting at her center and spreading, scorching her already wet pussy.

  She swallowed. “I’m ready, sir.”

  “You’ll not move from this position throughout your caning, do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you’ll count each stroke.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He was quiet then and she didn’t dare turn and look behind her. She was to keep her gaze forward unless he called her to face him. It was a simple rule, one that kept her on the edge, anticipating.

  She clenched involuntarily when Liam lined up the cane along her bottom. It took her a moment, all the while, her heart racing until she softened her muscles again.

  The cane whistled through the air and the first stroke landed across the center of her bottom.

  She sucked in a breath and fisted her hands while the sensation settled. It was different from anything she’d ever felt. It was an incredibly intense, hot pain that seemed to spread beneath her skin.

  “The count, Naia,” Liam reminded her.

  “One, sir,” she managed. Five to go?

  She closed her eyes when he lined it up again and a moment later, the second stroke landed just below the first. This time, she bit her lip but some sound escaped her. She shifted her feet and tensed her bottom once, twice.

  “Two, sir,” she said, her voice just a little higher. It hurt. It hurt more than anything she had felt before. But it somehow also satisfied and she wanted more.

  At the third one, she cried out and almost broke position, but caught herself. He hadn’t struck the same spot yet but she knew he would, and when he did, it would take all she had not to crumble to her knees.

  “Three, sir,” she said once she was ready for the next one.

  There was a pause then the fourth struck over top of the first stroke.

  “Ah!” Tears now fell from her eyes but she didn’t wait, instead quickly called out, “Four, sir.”

  “You’re doing very well, Naia. You’re almost there, just two to go.”

  His encouragement was followed by another sharp stroke just where her ass met her thighs. She whimpered then moaned in pain, shifting her bottom from side to side. One more, she could do this.

  “Five, sir,” she squeaked.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her bottom, forcing herself to keep her arms where they were.

  “Last one. This one will be memorable,” he said casually.

  Memorable? The five she had already taken were plenty memorable.

  “I’ll wait until you relax your muscles,” Liam said, tapping against her bottom with the cane.

  She had been clenching and hadn’t realized it. Exhaling a breath, she wiped away her tears, and repositioned herself. She took two deep, slow breaths and, as hard as it was, concentrated consciously on the sensations the cane caused, wanting to fully experience the moment, the pain. She took her legs just a little wider. “I’m ready,” she said, bracing herself.

  Her knees buckled when the final stroke came across the backs of her thighs and stung like nothing she’d ever felt. It took all she had not to reach back and try to rub away the pain, but she didn’t. She held her position and waited even as tears poured from her eyes.

  “You did so well,” he said, setting the cane aside and taking her into his arms. He held her, one arm covering her shoulders, the other hand caressing her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m proud of you, Naia.”

  He held onto her for a while before walking her to the bed to lay her on her stomach. He sat beside her and slipped one pillow back beneath her hips. His fingers lightly traced what she imagined were now bright red welts.

  “Spread your legs a little,” he said.

  She did, very aware of the moisture that had gathered there.

  She watched while he stood and stripped off his clothes. His cock was thick and hard and she wanted him to bury it deep inside her. She made a husky, low sound and he smiled before settling between her legs. She flinched when he spread her cheeks apart, but when his tongue came down over her pussy, she could only moan in pleasure. After a few moments, he righted himself and the head of his cock probed her slick entrance. One hand found her clit while he adjusted her position with the other and slowly slid his cock deep inside her. He held there, filling her, while he rubbed her clit. She closed her eyes, lifting her ass just a little higher when he began to move.

  Orgasm cam
e on fast while he pumped, fucking her hard and fast. When his thumb pressed against her bottom hole, the burn on her bottom combined with the pleasure of his hands on her, his cock inside her, and when she felt him still, felt his cock thicken and throb, felt him fill her with his release, she became whole and complete, losing herself in pure sensation.

  * * *

  They lay beneath the covers, her back to his chest, his arm across her shoulders, his hand covering hers.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking how much my bottom hurts,” she said, only partially teasing.

  “What else?” he probed.

  “Well,” she began. “I guess caning’s not a hard limit anymore.” She smiled. “I’m happy, Liam. I feel… good.”

  He squeezed her closer and she flinched when her tender buttocks pressed against his thighs.

  “Me too, Naia. Me too.”

  The End

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