Casey's Choice

by Alexis Alvarez

  “Count.”

  “One!” She pulled at the bonds, clenched her cheeks, then quickly unclenched. When she relaxed her body, the ginger and plug throbbed in a way that was just at the outer limit of sexy. When she clenched, the sensation spiked into discomfort.

  The paddle fell again in the same spot, and she burst out, “Two!” a combination of a yell and a word.

  The next hit was harder, at the base of her thighs, and she wailed out before sobbing, “Three.”

  By the time they’d reached fifteen, she was so relieved that she wanted to cry, except she already was crying. But the relief was short-lived when Max tapped her thighs with something, and she remembered the crop.

  He didn’t speak, just brought it down onto her left thigh, leaving a bright spot of pain, a sizzle of fire.

  “Did you cut me?” she demanded, gasping, twisting in her bonds. She didn’t think he had, but she needed some kind of assurance, some kindness.

  “No, of course not.” Max’s voice was even. “It left a red mark, and it will probably give you a bruise there, a little one. We’re not breaking the skin. Casey?” He looked into her face, frowned. “You heard me say we weren’t going to injure you, and I need you to believe that.” He hesitated. “Do you need—”

  She saw Hunter, through her tears, his body rigid. It wasn’t the posture of a man demonstrating care and forgiveness. What would it take to get him there? She shook her head. “Keep going.”

  Max nodded, and she braced herself for the crop, but it didn’t fall. Instead, he rubbed her buttocks, and at first she clenched, but relaxed into his touch as he rubbed, grateful for the break, for his touch. “Ready for the crop?” he asked, after a time, and she nodded.

  He slapped her again, right next to the first spot, and she moaned in reply. “Thirty,” he said, and began hitting her with the crop, landing little burning whips across her lower buttocks and upper thighs, but his touch was lighter, some of the blows barely glancing off her body. Every so often, he surprised her with a hard blow that took her breath away and made her squeal and jerk, then he’d go back to lighter, teasing slaps. The combination, the unknown, was addictive, and she found herself raising her ass up to him, as if demanding, begging for more. As she relaxed into the rhythm, she found that although it hurt almost enough to make her want to stop, the combination of the plug and the crop was making her arousal grow, once again. If she were just alone with Max…

  “Do another round with the paddle, and then I’ll give her a dozen with the cane.” Hunter’s voice was cold. “Some nice welts will teach her a good lesson about deception.”

  The tone of his voice lurched her into instant hysteria. She couldn’t take more of that cane, not right now—there was no way! “Max, please. Stop stop stop. I’m so sorry about the club, I’m sorry I lied, I will never, ever do it again. But I can’t take any more of the cane. I don’t care if you kick me out forever, I don’t care anymore, you need to stop. Now.” On the last word, her voice held a tone of complete command.

  She couldn’t keep going. But it wasn’t exactly from the pain; she could have taken more, maybe even welcomed the new sensation of the cane, if Hunter’s voice and tone had been different, if his voice promised her pleasure. It was the lack of kindness that shot such desperation and anxiety into her soul, and her utter inability to understand what this was all about. It had started as some kind of fantasy, but then it was real punishment, and then it was sexual, but now it was about anger, it was being pushed beyond her limits, and the uneven ground terrified and angered her. She needed to end this, now.

  Max bent down to look into her eyes. “Casey?” He touched her face, examined her expression. “You’re done.”

  “She didn’t say mercy.” Hunter’s voice was cold.

  Max’s was even colder. “She shouldn’t need to. We weren’t going to take her there. I can read it in her face. She’s fucking done.”

  “All right. You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re right.” Hunter bent down and released her hands and waist, and Max did her feet. Together, they pulled her gently from the bench and stood her up, but her legs were wobbly, and Hunter swore and took her into his arms. “Come over here.”

  He walked her to the same couch and lay her down on her stomach. He ran his hand over her ass, inspecting it, touching in certain places, pulling at her skin. She flinched but allowed the touch. Then he retreated, and she heard the two of them talking in low voices.

  When they returned, Max knelt beside her. “I’m going to remove the plug and wash off the lube, what’s left of it, and the ginger sensation will disappear. Then I’m going to rub lotion into your skin.”

  She nodded into the couch. She made a sound when the plug came out, and when he stroked between her legs with a rag, but as he’d promised, the ginger burn started to subside, and in a few minutes it was just a tingle. When he started to rub lotion into her ass cheeks she relaxed her muscles, letting him soothe the cooling emollient into her skin.

  She heard the snap of another bottle. “This is a custom mixture I get from a Chinese herbal healer,” Hunter explained. “It has a mix of herbs and plant extracts that help with inflammation and swelling. It will help significantly. I’ll put some on you tonight, then you take the bottle home and apply it yourself tomorrow. You’ll be surprised at how fast the pain goes away.”

  Casey didn’t answer. She clutched the couch pillow for dear life, holding on, squeezing her fingernails hard into it, trying to distract herself from the discomfort in her rear and the confusion in her mind.

  Max put his hand on her shoulder. “Casey, I can stay, or I can leave. I’m going to let you choose.” There was a sudden tension between them, and the choice seemed huge and important.

  She looked at him. “I, thank you for being kind to me, and for almost—you know. But I think I need to talk with Hunter. There are some things I need to say to him in private. So you can go.”

  “You’re sure?” His gaze was intense.

  “Yes, I am.” She met his eyes.

  Max nodded and looked away, and she saw a muscle clench in his jaw, but when he spoke, his voice was low and smooth. “I understand. Of course.” He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hand. “I know this wasn’t easy for you. Thank you for trusting us to administer your punishment. As far as I’m concerned, and as far as the club goes, it’s a fresh start.”

  “Fine.” Her voice was small.

  He continued, “I’m proud of you, Casey.”

  “That’s completely fucked up.” She spoke without anger, but with conviction.

  He bent down to look into her eyes. “You came here to try something new and difficult, to see if it’s what you wanted. That takes a hell of a lot of courage. That’s what makes me proud, not that I have the right. I hope you feel proud, too. You’ll figure it out over time if you want to do this kind of thing again. This lifestyle doesn’t come easy or all at once.”

  “This kind of lifestyle is what you forced on me.” But that wasn’t true, and she corrected herself. “I don’t mean that exactly. You didn’t leave me a choice.”

  “Of course we did. You had no obligation to come here and do this. You chose it.”

  “I know. But still.”

  He touched her cheek. His voice wasn’t hard, but it held a note of remonstration. “What we offer isn’t lattes and roses. It’s spanking and BDSM and domination to people who want to be submissive. You know that. Maybe it’s more accurate to say you forced yourself, because you wanted what we offered. Casey?”

  She shrugged, burying her head again. “Maybe, but I can’t talk about that now. Please, give me time to figure this out.”

  “I understand, but sometime soon you’ll need to understand why you came here tonight and asked for the punishment. Take care, Casey. I’ll see you soon, I hope.” He touched her head, and then he was gone.

  There was silence for a minute and she heard Hunter come closer. She felt the whoosh of air as he sat on the floor beside the
couch.

  “How do you feel?” His voice was low and even.

  “Horrible.” She didn’t look at him. “My ass is so sore, and my arms and legs hurt from pulling at the restraints. And my voice is sore from crying.” She spoke accusingly. “You were too hard on me.”

  “We stopped when you told us to.”

  “I told you to stop from the very beginning.”

  “We stopped when you really meant it.”

  She darted a glance at him, resting her cheek on the pillow. “You should have stopped him after the hand spanking. The rest hurt too much.”

  “You knew it was going to hurt. Yet you walked over to the bench yourself and lay down. Do you believe we would have stopped if you told us to, then, with a safeword?”

  She considered this. “Yes.”

  “Well, then. You didn’t say it. That means you believed you deserved to be punished, and wanted to accept it.”

  She shrugged and looked away again. “You said I’d feel better, but I don’t feel better. I feel worse. My ass hurts, and I’m worried about how badly it will hurt all week, and I’m sad.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “That you don’t feel a sense of relief, like a weight’s been lifted from your shoulders. That’s what a good punishment does for someone who likes this.”

  “Who said I liked this!” Her voice came out as a shout, and she struggled to sit up, even though it stung her butt to do so. “I never said I liked real punishment. Who the hell would be messed up enough to like it?”

  “A lot of people. Alexa, Cassia, Amara, the women at the club.”

  “Well, then they’re all fucked up.”

  “Careful.” His voice held a note of warning. “That’s not fair to judge like that.”

  “You judged me, didn’t you? Why don’t I get to judge in return? Ow.” She winced as she put pressure on an especially sore spot and stood up, rubbing her bottom.

  “Let me see.”

  “No.” She pulled away and gave him a glare. “I want to get dressed and go home.”

  “I’d like you to stay until I determine it’s safe for you to leave. You just got spanked, hard. You were also turned on and denied an orgasm. You’re full of endorphins and hormones and I don’t want you to soar off and then crash on your own. Do you understand me?”

  “Whatever. Give me my clothes.”

  She’d been so wrong about this night. She thought it would be a kinky game; that Hunter would pretend to be angry, maybe even be a little bit angry for real, but that spanking her would cure him of any lingering irritation and remind him of how amazing she was. It was supposed to be sexy, and provocative. Max and Hunter would touch her, tantalize her; the spanking would hurt, maybe even be a real punishment—which she had agreed to, after all—but would leave her aching for the mind-blowing sex that she and Hunter would have, while they whispered words of love and forgiveness to each other. It wouldn’t leave her sad and empty, but whole and filled with passion.

  “Soon. Right now, you need to relax.” He tilted his head at her, and she nodded, finally, knowing her mind was in no condition to leave just yet, and still hoping for a real conversation with him that was more pleasant. Maybe his anger needed time to diffuse. If he needed to hold her to remember how to care for her? She could do that. She needed it, in fact.

  He arranged a soft, fleece blanket over her body, sat beside her on the couch, and pulled her down so her head rested on his thigh. “Rest,” he ordered, his voice rough, but his hand was soft, stroking her hair, her cheek, and she obeyed. His leg was hard when he clenched his quads, softer when he released, and the warmth of his body on her face made her relax.

  After a while, the combination of time, and perhaps the lotion, took effect, and the stinging began to abate, leaving her bottom with a sore tingle that was almost pleasant, the glaring pain gone. She took a deep heaving sigh, then another, and felt a wave of lethargy roll over her. She was not going to admit that she felt very warm and safe, the lights of the room bright and yellow around her, covered in a warm throw, Hunter’s body warming her as well. But for some reason when she closed her eyes and let her body relax, she found herself drifting on a cloud, on the sea, and it was the most soothing feeling she could remember in a long time. She remembered the pain and her intense anger, but those feelings were gone, and she remembered them idly, like she remembered flashes of scenes from kindergarten—short watercolor paintings that winked into and out of existence.

  The tingling in her ass felt good right now, it felt amazing, and her whole body throbbed with life and sex and abundance, even as she was close to sleep, almost in a coma of relaxation, even better than when she got a massage. She could feel her heart pumping, her veins working, every molecule singing its story of life, and at the same time she was as soft as cotton, as boneless as air. How had she never known that lying on a couch could be such bliss? Was this was it felt like to be high on drugs?

  She looked up at him for a second, and was startled—it looked like he had tears in his eyes. But then his face merged with stars, and she found that her eyes were closed again.

  Hunter’s thigh was her boat, and she was sailing out into the universe, holding onto him with her fingertips, guiding him like a raft in the night. Behind her lids, fireworks burst in a symphony of luminance, then softened into a patter of raindrops on a window, and she sighed at the loveliness. That’s how her body felt, all fireworks and raindrops, and she stretched out luxuriously, then curled back into his body. How had she never realized about the couch thing? She was going to have to fall asleep on the couch with a throw more often. This was a scientific miracle, really! She could write a paper about it and make a million dollars. Why nobody had discovered this before, she had no idea, but she’d be the first.

  And then the waves took her away again, and showed her the Aurora Borealis and the Aurora Australis, and she murmured, “so pretty” before she let herself fly into a storm of stars.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Something very soft was on her shoulders, and she blinked, feeling her eyelids gummy, the way they got after a night of drinking when she didn’t take off her makeup before bed. Yawning, she rubbed at her eyes with her right hand, and discovered that her left hand was crushed up against the back of the couch. The couch? She jerked her chin and it landed on someone’s thigh. “Ouch.”

  Beside her, Hunter stirred. “You awake?”

  She sat up, and the discomfort in her rear had all of the last night’s memories flooding back in a rush. “Oh, God.” She leaned forward and put her face into her hands. “Somebody kill me now.”

  “Casey?” His voice was concerned, and he leaned over, his shoulder popping as he stretched his arm. “Ugh. I’m a little tingly. You slept on me all night without moving once.”

  “I’m fine.” She rubbed her nose and blinked at the light. “I was here all night?” Her voice sounded incredulous. She pulled the throw around her shoulders. “Why did I do that?”

  “You went into a sort of trance, maybe like subspace, after we spanked you, and I let you enjoy it and fall asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you. You needed the rest. And if you were feeling good, then I supposed you deserved that too, after what you’d just endured.” His face was hard and tender at once. She couldn’t read his feelings.

  “I guess so.” She shifted on the couch, from one cheek to the other, assessing the pain level, the damage. “Ouch.”

  “Sore?”

  She gave him a dirty look. “Really?”

  He tilted one shoulder. “How sore is it?”

  “Do you care?” She stood up. “I need to go to the bathroom. Don’t come in.” She pulled the wrap around her and kicked out her legs for a second before standing, to work out the kinks.

  After peeing, she peered at her backside in the mirror with a mix of wonder and horror. It was splotchy red across both cheeks, and a few pale purple bruises bloomed like sun-deprived flowers on her sit spots and upper thi
ghs. No surprise—that spanking had hurt like hell. She touched one bruise, fascinated, and yelped at the sudden dull ache. This was going to be… interesting. Sitting was going to be a very special task today.

  When she came out of the bathroom, she didn’t see Hunter, but she found her black dress. Sick of seeing that thing, she kicked it with a muffled scream, stubbing her toe on the carpet. She strode into his closet and rifled through the girl clothes, pulling the hangers hard and knocking a frilly skirt and a wispy halter top to the floor, finally grabbing a pair of yoga pants and a soft T-shirt from a shelf. How many exes came through here? There were enough clothes to stock an entire mall.

  Hunter must have come in while she was showering, because she found that bottle of lotion beside her clothes when she stepped out. How could a bunch of herbs help anything? But just in case, she rubbed on a generous portion, figuring that she could get any benefits, whether real or suggestive, that the cream might offer. She wrapped the towel loosely so it wouldn’t wipe off the lotion while she dried her hair.

  “I do care.” His voice was hard as he walked into the room and stood facing her. “About how sore you are. I told you in the beginning that I would respect your limits. Last night we pushed you hard to punish you, but I was never planning to let it get beyond a certain point.”

  “I have bruises.”

  “I’ve no doubt. Do you think you deserved less?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what anyone deserves, Hunter. I don’t even understand exactly what happened last night.”

  “We punished you for breaking the club rules and for endangering yourself. You accepted it. The slate is wiped clean, now. You’re free to come back to the club.”

  “Except it’s not wiped clean, not really.” She looked at him full on, and he looked away. “Is it, Hunter? If everything were wiped clean, you’d have forgiven me personally as well. Max did. And you haven’t. You can’t even look me in the eye. You were so mad at me last night that Max had to do the punishment. You wouldn’t even let him give me—” her voice cracked, but she forced herself to meet his eyes, “pleasure, to help. I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. It meant nothing.”