by Jane Henry
But she doesn’t submit as quickly as she should. Anchoring hands on her hips, she glares at me. I’m a little surprised by this. I knew she needed a spanking, but still, Chandra is naturally submissive, and it’s rare she defies me so boldly.
“I want to talk first,” she says, her body taut with anger, her eyes bright.
Frowning, I walk over to where we keep the implements with slow, purposeful strides. I know she’s watching my every move. I want her fearing punishment and eventually, as our relationship progresses, she’ll know my expectations, but she’ll also grow to trust me more. She won’t have as much of a need to defy me, and obedience will become intuitive.
Chandra knows she’s in trouble. Good. I want her quaking a little inside, because a little fear before punishment will help. I wrap my hand around the sturdy handle of the paddle and cross my arms on my chest.
I watch as a little of her anger ebbs away when she looks at me, knowing now that I’m holding the paddle that she’s crossed the line.
“Axle, no,” she says, not defiant but pleading this time. “Not the paddle. Please, sir.”
I shake my head, more convinced now than before that she needs me to light up her ass. If I back down now and let her go without a spanking, she might be superficially relieved, but a part of her will be disappointed. As a submissive, she craves this from me, and if I don’t punish her when she defies me, she’ll lose a little of the respect needed for this kind of relationship to work. But the paddle hurts. It’s meant to. And she doesn’t want a spanking.
I pull out the straight-backed chair I keep in our room for moments like these and sit heavily down. Wordlessly, I point to my knee. She captures her lips with her teeth, now looking far more apprehensive than angry. “Sir,” she whispers.
“Dress up, over my knee.”
“I want to talk.”
I grit my teeth. “We’ll talk with your dress up and you over my knee. Now you do what I say, or I’ll double what you’re already getting.”
Watching her choose to submit is beautiful to me, the way she struggles and fights with her will, battling the conflict between what she wants and what she craves. But we weren’t designed to be comfortable and complacent. I know the only way she’ll grow is if she battles within and chooses to be strong, despite fearing the measured pain I’ll give her. I grow in patience and fortitude when I give her the space to dance to this tune, to defy with the authenticity that doesn’t break us but makes us stronger.
“I don’t know about this,” she says. “Maybe I don’t want this. You’re a little high handed.”
“Chandra,” I remind her, “When you’re on the verge of getting your ass paddled is not the time to question our dynamic.”
She pouts adorably with a little frown. “I think it’s an excellent time to question.”
Blowing out a shaky breath, she obeys, grabbing at the dress. Her eyes stay on mine, giving me her fear and apprehension along with her trust. I look at her steadily, not breaking eye contact, telling her without words what she needs to hear.
I expect you to obey.
I won’t let you do this.
I love you.
She’s so much happier when she’s submitting to me, our dance of dominance and submission the passion that fuels who we are.
When she reaches me, I help her out of the rest of her clothes, then stand her in front of me naked. God, she’s beautiful, I pull her between my legs and run my hands down her sides, over her soft skin, making her shiver. Leaning in, I kiss her softly, a promise that even though this part is hard, I love her.
“I love you,” I remind her.
“And I love you,” she says, and her eyes flash at me. She’s trying to behave, but there’s a little devil in there that needs taming. “Even if you’re an overbearing—”
She doesn’t get a chance to finish, as I take her hand and guide her over my knee. Her beautiful curves beg to be punished, stroked, bitten, fucked, and seeing her bare-ass over my knee makes my cock swell. I want to bury myself in her so deeply she groans my name and forgets her own, plunge myself to the hilt and claim the deepest parts of her with savage, brutal, tender strokes. But first, a spanking is in order.
I rest the paddle on her naked rear. Adorably, one little hand flies up as if to block any smacks. I take her fingers with my left hand and press her fingers to her lower back.
“Keep them there, please,” I admonish. “I don’t want to strike your fingers with a paddle.” Now that I’m holding her in position with the paddle ready to fly, we can talk.
“What did Zack ask you to do?” I don’t spank her, not yet, just keep the paddle in place to remind her to behave.
“Not to go to the bookstore,” she says, an air of resignation in her tone.
“Yes,” I say, squeezing her hand just a little. “And what was your response?”
“I… I told him no, sir.”
“And why is that?” I ask, feeling a bit of my anger return as we go over this. I’m looking forward to connecting the paddle with her ass. Hell, my dick pushes up against her soft belly in anticipation of that first solid smack, but first I’ll give her the opportunity to give her side of the situation.
“I love my job sir,” she says. Her hair hangs in beautiful swaths of glimmering chocolate brown. I release her hand just long enough to stroke my fingers through her long locks. I know she does, and I’m sympathetic to that.
“Go on.”
“My entire life, I was told what to do,” she says, her voice wobbling now. “I was told I couldn’t do this, or I couldn’t do that, and every rule was supposed to help me, but it didn’t. It made me feel as if I had no autonomy at all, powerless and little. And I hated that.”
She speaks the truth, but only in part. “Sweetheart,” I tell her, brushing her hair off her forehead. “You were so strong, making your own way and fighting for what’s yours. But this isn’t about giving any of that up.”
“It is!” she shouts. Frowning, I lift the paddle and bring it down with a good, firm whack against the fullest part of her ass. She yelps but settles a little over my knee and closes her mouth.
“It’s childish and foolish to think that choosing safety in any way forfeits what you’ve worked so hard at,” I tell her. “You risk your autonomy by making headstrong choices. If someone hurts you, you could lose freedom that will devastate you. And you’re a smart girl, Chandra. You understand that.”
She doesn’t respond, and I’m not sure if she’s being defiant or accepting what I say as truth, but I know how to bring that to light.
“You defied me. You refused to submit. And there are many things I’ll compromise on, but your safety isn’t one of them.” It’s all the warning I give her before I slam the paddle down hard on her bare ass. She arches her back and whimpers, but I continue with firm, unyielding strokes of the paddle. Five strokes in, she squirms. I know the sting builds with this paddle, and she wants it to end, but this punishment ends when she submits.
“I went for years without you,” I tell her. “Years, I mourned the loss of you and gave up ever finding love again. No one could ever be you.” I spank her again. “You are the only one for me, and I’m not going to allow you to be foolish and do anything to harm yourself.” I punctuate my words with sharp swats. “To take you from me. Or hurt you in any way.” I spank her again.
“You’re hurting me,” she protests. I pause. She needs to fight me. She needs to know I won’t cave.
“I’m spanking you,” I clarify. “If I’m hurting you, you safeword.” Her lack of response is all the answer I need to give me the green light to continue spanking her.
It takes four more firm, solid smacks, before I see a little bit of the fight go out of her. She no longer arches her back when the paddle connects but barely flinches. She’s warmed up, her skin primed from the spanking and capable of taking more now, and she’s sinking deeper into submission. Reaching for that place deep down inside her that gives her the power to yield to m
y authority. To accept correction.
To let herself be loved.
“You’re not going back to work at the bookstore until I tell you,” I explain, resting the paddle on her red-hot skin. “Will you?”
She shakes her head and speaks in a garbled voice. “No, sir.”
“Good girl,” I tell her. The paddle clangs to the floor but she doesn’t even flinch, she’s so deep into the moment, submerged in her submission. I take a moment to admire my handiwork and run my hand along her scorched, reddened skin. My cock pulses. There’s nothing like a good, hard spanking that makes me want to fuck her more. My hand on her skin cues her in that her punishment is over. No more paddle. Just my hand. My fingers. My mouth.
“What are you going to do, Chandra?”
“Obey you, sir.”
“Are you going to the bookstore?”
She sighs and shakes her head. “No, sir.”
I massage her welted skin and nod my head. “Good girl. Is this forever, babygirl?”
“No, sir,” she whispers with a sigh. She knows she was wrong. I just have to give her space to own that. “Just until you tell me it’s safe again.”
I continue the soothing strokes of my palm on her skin. “That’s right. And is your only work at the bookstore anyway?”
“Well, no,” she admits, squirming on my lap.
“What else do you do for work?”
“Write, sir.”
“And will you be able to continue that?” I ask her, my hand resting on her ass.
She nods her head.
“You’ll have ample time for writing, because you’ll be staying with me and I’ll be giving you plenty of time to do what you need to.” I’m not sure yet what I’ll do at the shop, but I’m taking on more hours at Verge and fewer at the shop, so I’ll do what I need so that she’s protected. “You can sit on my lap and work on your book or sit at the desk and write. I’ll get you whatever you need to make that happen. Got it?”
She nods. “Got it, sir.”
I catch a glimmer of dampness on her thighs and stroke my finger at the tender skin between her legs that’s coated with arousal.
“Naughty girl,” I pretend to chide. “Did you get turned on with a punishment?”
She shakes her head and bites her lip. “Not during the spanking,” she begins. “It hurts too much.”
But my words, my hands, my fingers on her now, bring us back to the inherent eroticism in what we do.
I pinch her thigh. “Open.”
Her legs fly open. “That’s it,” I say. “Good girl. Maybe I won’t punish you for getting turned on by a spanking, then,” I say. “Maybe you deserve to climax.”
“Yes, sir,” she heaves out, opening her legs even wider. Her scent overwhelms me. I want to devour her. I will.
Chapter Fourteen
Chandra
“On the bed,” he rasps out in a husky, sexy growl. My ass burns from the paddling he gave me, but the need to climax burns hotter. I wasn’t even turned on when he paddled me. That paddle hurts like a bitch, and when Axle decides I need a spanking, he’s all in. But when the pain stops and he’s soothing me, my primed body yearns for his touch. He half carries, half drags me over to the bed, lifts me, and tosses me onto my back. I bounce a little. I know what he’s going to do, and I can’t breathe, I’m that caught up in anticipation.
“Pinch your nipples,” he says, positioned at the foot of the bed. Obediently, I lift my hands to my chest and grab my own hardened nipples. My pussy pulses with need as he stands over me. Axle has many forms of aftercare and allowing me to come is one of my favorites.
“Remember your safeword,” he tells me, before he kneels down in front of me, hovering his mouth over my sex. Hot breath caresses me like a gloved hand, my need ratcheting up with every breath he takes and releases. I want his mouth so badly my knees tremble and my breaths are labored, but he controls this just like he controls everything, devoted to meeting my every need, but too dedicated to my obedience to allow me to disobey. When I defy him, he disciplines me, and when I obey, I’m rewarded.
I took my spanking. It’s reward time.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes between my legs, the heat of his mouth pressing in on me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, pulling my nipples harder. It’s the only thing I can control here.
Then his mouth is on me and I’m breathless and writhing, sweet strokes of his tongue priming me to the point of release. I pinch harder and he strokes languidly, torturously slow then firmly pressing. I let go of my nipples so I can grasp his hair, but he crashes a hand against my thigh. I whimper when he takes his mouth off of me.
“Did I give you permission to stop?” he growls. I grab my nipples again and close my eyes as I’m soaring closer and closer to climax. When I’m just on the cusp he gets to his feet and strips. I’m trembling, on the edge of losing my mind, when he grabs my hands, pins them above my head, then drives his cock into me so hard I stop breathing. My mouth hangs open and my voice is garbled and strained when he thrusts again and again. “Come for me,” he orders. “Chase that climax, baby.”
His words unleash what I need to let go, and I soar into my climax. My back arches, my heart races and my breath freezes as my body is wrecked with bliss at the same time that he lashes into me and grunts his pleasure. We climax long and hard, a crescendo of passion and power and love that courses through me and leaves me begging for more.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you,” I whisper back. “God, I love you.”
“You’re incorrigible,” he says. “I ought to paddle you morning and night just as insurance.”
“Mmm,” I moan, my eyes closed as I ride out the aftermath of that session. “No paddle.”
“You really hate that thing.”
“Tool of the devil.”
“Good. Maybe it’ll keep you in line for a little while.”
I sigh and roll into him as he pulls me onto his chest, still connected, messy and sweaty but sated. “A little while,” I whisper. “An hour or two. Maybe a few minutes.”
“Maybe,” he says, giving my ass a playful swat.
And as I come down from my high, what Zack told us comes back to me. A sadness presses in on my chest, and he must feel the change in me, for he mentions it.
“Something on your mind?”
I sigh. “Well. Yes, sir. I don’t like remembering what happened. I don’t like remembering how they treated you. How they treated us.”
“Me neither,” he admits. “And I wish there was something I could do about it, baby. All we can do is forget what happened and choose to live in the here and now. No one should have to put up with what you did. And if I have anything to do with it, no one ever will again.”
I sigh. “I just—I have this horrible feeling like this is my fault. You were the good one, and I was the needy girl who—”
“Stop that.” His harsh tone makes me freeze mid-sentence. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say a thing like that again.” He pauses to give weight to his words. “Where did this come from?” he asks.
“Well, seeing that woman there today. Hearing what she said, it just made me remember all the things my parents said. What the papers said. How they all painted me as this slutty temptress who persuaded the good man to fall. I was the classic Eve in the garden who handed you the apple.”
“No, Chandra. We’re not going there. What we did was in the past, and even though we did things we shouldn’t have, we’re making this right now.”
I frown, and suddenly in my vulnerable state, all my doubts are coming at me full force. “By playing dom and sub at a BDSM club? This is somehow right and good?”
I don’t like the way his eyes flash at me, and I know I’m pushing things too far, but I need to state my fears and have him resolve those. I need to know that this is okay.
We lay together in the quiet neither one of us speaking after my revelations. Outside our private room are muffled sounds
of play, but in here, there’s only our heartbeats and breathing. I reach for his hand and weave my fingers through his, when a knock sounds at the door. Gesturing for me to stay put, he gets out of bed and covers me with a blanket so whoever’s at the door doesn’t see me naked. He looks around for his jeans, but we’ve left our clothes strewn about the room. He swears under his breath and yanks open his dresser door. “Just a minute,” he barks at the door, tugging the jeans on.
He goes to the door and creaks it open then has a brief, hushed conversation. I try to see who’s there but can only see Axle’s broad, muscled back, but it surprises me that it’s a female voice. Who’s he talking to, and why is it okay for them to interrupt us?
Frowning, I push myself to sitting, trying to get a good look, but I can’t see anything. Finally, he shuts the door and turns to me.
“I gotta step out for a minute,” he says. “I want you to stay here for now.”
“Is everything okay?” I don’t like this at all.
Shrugging a shoulder, he frowns. “I’m not sure. But right now, you need a little down time and quiet, and I can’t watch you the way I’d like to out there. So just stay here until I come back for you. Got it?”
My heart sinks, but I’m determined not to let him down. Not again. I’m feeling little and vulnerable, alone like this, and I know in my gut I need some aftercare. Some attention, but I don’t speak up. “Got it.”
Before he leaves, he bends down and gives me a sweet, lingering kiss that makes me arch right up off the bed and into him. “Rest, baby,” he says. “I need to check on a few things. We need to make sure everyone’s safe here.” And then he’s back at his dresser and pulling on a rumpled, faded black t-shirt. I smile at the irony. He may have chosen a different path than he planned, but he’s still a good man. I watch him leave, and sigh to myself.
I flop back onto the bed and sigh, pulling the covers up over my shoulder. To pass the time, I pick up my phone and scroll through. There’s a message from Marla.