by Fiona Wilde
"I disagree." He took the napkin out of his lap, "I think you're being a bit overbearing and need a lesson on who is in charge. Stand up, go into the living room and bend over the couch."
Suddenly I was afraid. "Kevin, I'm sorry," I whined.
"One, two, three.." he pointed to the living room as he counted.
"Why are you counting?" I wrung my hands in genuine distress.
"Because that's how many extra licks above twenty you're getting for not moving your butt into the living room and getting it over the couch." He took a step towards me and I ran - literally ran - into the living room, feeling a slight thrill mix with my fear as I draped myself over the back of the loveseat.
I heard Kevin rummaging through the kitchen drawers and looked back just in time to see him select a sturdy wooden spoon. My stomach flopped and I whimpered as he walked over and held it in front of my face.
"Until we buy a proper paddle, this will have to do," he said.
Kevin lifted my skirt and peeled my panties down to mid-thigh.
"Who's about to get a spanking?" he asked quietly.
"I am," I said.
"Who's giving the spanking?" he asked.
"You are," he said.
"So based on that evidence, who is in charge in this relationship?" He rubbed the spoon across my bare flesh and I quivered from head to toe.
"You are," I said.
"That's right," he replied. "Now let's drive that message home, shall we?"
When Kevin wrapped a strong arm around my waist I knew he meant business, but I wasn't prepared for the sting of the hard wooden spoon. His first spanking had been with his hand, and while it hurt the rubs in between smacks made it borderline erotic when I looked back on it. But this spanking - this was 100 percent pain and I reacted by yelling like a banshee. In fact, I was yelling so loudly that I didn't hear the knocking on the door until it had turned into a bang.
"Open up, police."
I stood and looked at Kevin, a new kind of fear in my eyes. Not knowing what else to do, I went to open the door, drying my eyes and pulling up my panties as I did.
It wasn't just one police officer, but two at the door.
"Your neighbors reported screams and we hear them too," an older officer said. "Mind if we come in?"
"Sure," I said quietly and let them pass, casting a worried glance at Kevin.
"I realize this is awkward," Kevin said. "My girlfriend and I were wrestling and got carried away."
The younger officer looked at my still tear-stained face. "We heard what sounded like someone being hit, and it looks like the lady's been crying, sir." The officer pointed at the wooden spoon, still clutched in Kevin's hand. "Do you always hold a big wooden spoon when you wrestle with your girlfriend?"
Kevin looked down at his hand. "We were in the kitchen ---and ---"
The older cop moved to separate us. The younger one took me aside. "Miss --"
"Miss Parker," I said. "Lauren Parker."
"Come in the kitchen with me, Miss Parker." I followed obediently and watched as he pulled out a chair. Without thinking I sat down. When I did my face gave me away."
"Miss, I'm going to come right out and ask you this. Was your boyfriend spanking you just now?"
I looked down at the floor. "We were just....it's complicated. I let him..." I looked up.
"Yes, but it's clearly sexual," I lied. "I'm sorry that you felt like you had to come check on me. I sure hope you won't do the same if I make too much noise in bed."
The young cop looked at the floor, sighed, and looked back at me. "Sorry, miss, but when I walk in and see a young lady with a tear-stained face who can't sit down and a man a head taller than she is holding a wooden spoon, I'm inclined to think there's more to the story than a little slap and tickle."
Now I looked at the floor. "You don't understand."
"Look, Miss," the officer said. "I don't mean to embarrass you. I grew up in a very old-fashioned home, and I remember more than once hearing my dad spank my mom. My brother spanks his wife and my favorite cousin swears when he gets married that if his wife gets out of line she'll get the same treatment. So I know a man can love a woman and still blister her tail."
I looked at him and nodded. "We're not freaks," I said.
"No you're not. But you've got to understand that not every cop who comes to this door is going to be this nice, and not every guy who promises to be old-fashioned is going to be good to you when it matters. Your neighbors said they've never seen this guy over here before, so do me a favor and be careful. I won't press charges if you don't want me to, but I can't promise the next cop that comes along will be that understanding. And if you do change your mind, give me a call."
He pushed a card into my hand with his name on it. Officer Frank Mabon.
"Yes sir, Officer Mabon." I said, feeling relieved. "Thank you sir."
"Nothing's up, Bob. I think we should leave. It was just a case of slap and tickle." The younger officer radioed in. "Code 4, Dispatch. A negative on that reported 273D."
The older officer didn't seem too sure. He looked from the young officer, to me, to Kevin and back again before shrugging. "Whatever you say, Frank."
After that, things were a little different. Kevin took me shopping in the sex district, where I was fitted for a ball gag. He bought a couple of quieter implements, including a horrible little whippy thing called the Loopy Johnny. For extra measure, we spied on our neighbors, learning their schedules and working spankings, both play and erotic, for when we knew the neighbors would be out. Talk of his getting another place faded away, and I was grateful. I wanted him there wanted to please him every waking moment.
Kevin never let up, never slipped out of his dominant role and the more dominant he became the more submissive I became. "Don't question me" was one of his primary rules, which I happily obeyed. When his paychecks for the "projects" never came through I listened to his excuses without judgment. When he asked for my bank card and burned through the thousand dollars he'd given me on art supplies and wine, I still kept my mouth shut. Whenever I considered pressing him, he'd do something like tie me up and torturing me with spankings and tender bites to my nether regions that would drive any criticism from my mind.
Then, three months after he moved in, when he asked me to fund professional pictures of his art for his portfolio I sighed and said "Sure." What else is a woman going to say when she's standing in a Catholic school girl's uniform and the principal interrupts the game and says, "Oh, by the way..."
The only time I really had a chance to think about it all was at work, until that one Monday morning, when everything began to change.
I was bringing price comparisons in to Derrick Smith, who was sitting at his desk when he pushed his chair back. And there, in his lap slightly tilted to the side was the ugliest, semi-erect penis I'd ever seen.
I stammered, put the papers on his desk and went to go out the door, but with lightning speed my boss was up and got to it before I did. The next thing I knew his meaty arm was around me and his tobacco and potato-chip flavored tongue probing mine. I gagged and tried to push him away with my free arm as he tried to guide my other hand down to touch his penis.
"Come on, Princess," he said. "Let's not play games. You know you want this as much as I do. I see the way you dress around here - little sundresses and tops that show off those nice tits. Pants that show off that tight little ass. I'd like to chew on that ass, Lauren. Chew on it for days. His hand moved down then to squeeze a buttock still sore from my last spanking. With a yelp I pulled my knee up and rammed it - hard into Derrick Smith's scrotum. He sunk to the floor like a sack of potatoes while I backed away, horrified.
"Mr. Smith, if I gave you any message I assure you it was unintentional, just like I don't intend to dress for you. And as much as I hate to do this, I QUIT!"
I walked out the door, crying as I went and drove straight home. I needed a rock, a shoulder to cry on, a knight in shining armor. Kevin was in his studio w
hen I walked in, playing wastepaper basketball and listening to My Chemical Romance.
When he saw how upset I was he turned the stereo off and stood. "My god, baby, what happened?"
"I just quit my job!" I said.
"You did what?" Kevin looked incredulous, almost angry.
I didn't take time to process his odd reaction, just launched into my story.
"Are you sure there isn't some mistake?" he asked. "People have miscommunication all the time."
"Kevin, he had his DICK OUT!! He stuck his tongue in my mouth. He said he wanted to chew on my ass! Does that sound like miscommunication to you? I can't believe you're even questioning me."
Kevin's face got dark. "Look, Lauren. I just want to make sure I'm exactly certain about what happened before I give this guy a piece of my mind."
I calmed down, relieved. Kevin was going to come to my rescue. He was going to be my champion, and make the bad guy pay.
"Thanks, honey," I said.
"Don't worry, Lauren." He replied. "You just go take a bath and let me handle this man to man over the phone."
I was glad to. I went into the bathroom, filled the tub with Mr. Bubble and sunk in up to my chin, imagining Derrick Smith's face as Kevin told him that he'd better never ever bother his girlfriend again. Or else.
When I got out, Kevin was in the kitchen, making stir fry and listening to CD's on a little countertop stereo I'd never seen before. In the trash can was the box for it. I picked it up and looked at the price tag: $119.
"It was on sale," he said with a smile. "I got it for us."
"Oh, you got paid!" I brightened up. It was about time.
"No," he said. "But I will this week. You can count on it. And when I do I'll put the money right in your account."
"Oh," I said, and sat down at the counter.
"So what did Mr. Smith say?" I smiled, looking forward to hearing a blow-by-blow.
"I patched everything up for you, honey. He's taking you back."
"What?" my voice was shrill. "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm not going back!"
"Calm down," Kevin said. "I don't know your boss, but he assured me he felt terrible about what he's done. He said he's been under a lot of stress --"
I stood up. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you're saying this. I can't listen to this."
"No, you will listen," he said. "This is exactly the reason you need good solid leadership. A man makes a mistake and you're ready to throw a good-paying job away?"
"I can find another one," I snapped.
"You need to keep the one you have," he said.
"Why, so you can spend my money?" I tried to pull away on his arm.
"That's enough, young lady," and by the time Kevin pulled me over his lap this time I was already crying from anger and betrayal and so upset that the pain of the spanking was secondary. He only struck me a dozen times, but it would always be remembered as the most emotionally painful punishment I'd ever gotten.
When he was finished he hauled me to my feet. "If that's how you feel, then just tell me now and I'll get out. I was trying to help you, Lauren. I can't help it that
I put my hands over my face, sunk to the floor and wept. Suddenly I felt terribly drained and confused. Was he right? Was I overreacting? Sure Mr. Smith had been acting weird, but what happened at the office was out of character for him. Could it be that Kevin was right? I thought about what it would be like to lose Kevin. Sure I was paying the bills right now, but he did spend a lot of time working. And our dynamic...for the most part it was just liked I'd always dreamed it would be.
"Kevin, I'm sorry," I said. "I know you were just trying to help. I guess I just wanted him to pay."
"Oh he will," said Kevin. "I negotiated an extra large bonus for what you had to go through."
I shut my eyes and looked away, wishing that I'd either stayed in the room or called Derrick Smith myself. I didn't know how to feel about two men haggling over what price would buy my acceptance of being groped.
"I know it's hard for you to let me handle it, but we agreed, didn't we, that you'd submit even when it wasn't easy?" Kevin stroked my hair. "Now is one of those times you just have to trust me."
I sighed. "OK," I said. "But if it happens again, Kevin, I'm not going back. And I'm going to file a sexual harassment suit."
"It won't happen again, Lauren," he said, and kissed my temple. "You don't have to worry about a thing."
Chapter Four
When I got back to work, my first impression was that perhaps Kevin was some kind of miracle worker. Not only did Derrick Smith apologize, but apologize profusely and repeatedly until I told him I'd just be more comfortable if we could forget it ever happened.
It was still very awkward for a few weeks. I couldn't look at Derrick Smith in the face and he generally avoided me. He obvious hadn't told his brother what happened; the elder Smith didn't even realize I'd temporarily quit.
At home things clicked along as usual. Kevin still wasn't contributing financially, but was making a fulltime occupation of assuring me his Big Payday was just around the corner. But he kept the place clean, had eased off on spending my money - save for the occasional CD he justified buying by saying I'd love it - and gave me the boundaries and limits I craved. I lost fifteen pounds by adhering to the workout plan he came up with, stopped cursing after a couple of sessions with the Loopy Johnny and even took a gourmet cooking class so I could make him canapes.
There was still a nagging unrest that had stayed with me since the day I'd tried to leave Smith Brothers, only to have Kevin order me back. But in time, I figured, it would pass.
Two months had passed since the ugly incident when Derrick Smith walked into my office one morning with a manila folder.
"How are you, today, Princess," he asked, and I made note that it was the first time he'd used the term in a while. I didn't flinch as much as I'd thought, but it still felt weird.
"I'm fine," I said. "I got that letter typed up to Morgenstern about the timetable on their next set of warehouse renovations, if you want to look at it."
"Great," he said. "I'll take it back to my office. While I'm doing that would you mind signing these?"
He handed me the folder. "There must be some mistake," I said. "These invoices are blank. You haven't even given me a list of materials and labor costs yet."
"No mistake. I've got the list in my briefcase. I'll put the numbers in." he said. "I'm going to Morgengstern's warehouse today to give them an estimate for the next phase of the renovations and want to invoice me for what we've already done."
"Then why don't you sign it?" I asked.
"Because, you've dealt with them and you're recognized name at accounts receivable. You're in everybody's Rolodex. The last thing I need is for their new business office manger to ask me to verify I'm qualified to spend my own money." He handed me a pen. "Please, Lauren. I'm really in a hurry."
I picked up the pen and began to sign, shaking my head. "I suppose you're right," I said. "They do have a high rate of turnover among their office managers. Just tell Harvey to give these to Penny. She's the latest one but we've spoken a couple of times since she went to work there."
"Thanks, Lauren." Derrick Smith took the invoices from me with a smile. "You just made things a whole lot easier for me."
And I kept making it easier. My bosses did a lot of work at Morgenstern's that month, and each time I pre-signed the invoices without a second thought.
At home, Kevin was keeping busy with his work and doing a little shopping, too, as I learned when I came home one afternoon to find him working at a new drafting table.
"Where did this come from?" I asked, concern obvious in my voice.
"From the windfall I arranged for you," he said.
"Excuse me?" I walked around the drafting table, noticing that there was also a new set of very expensive paints sitting in an unopened box nearby.
"The bonus. Remember? The one I negotiated for you after your ugly little incid
ent."
"Oh, that one," I said. "But how did you know I was getting a bonus?"
"I didn't until to day when I called to check our bank balance." He spun around in his chair, which was also new.
I bit my tongue, to keep from saying it was not our bank balance, but my bank balance. I would need to change the password, and soon, but in a way that did not leave him feeling like I didn't trust him.
"There was your direct deposit, as usual, plus $5,000 more." He smiled. "Congratulations."
"And this money came from Smith Brothers?" I asked.
"That's what the bank rep said," he answered. "But why look a gift horse in the mouth. Let's celebrate. What do you say we go to that new club downtown, The Red Hat. It'll be fun to get out."
I tossed my purse in a nearby chair and took my jacket off. "I don't think so, Kevin. I don't feel like it."
"Lauren," Kevin's voice grew stern. "It's what I want."
Suddenly Kevin didn't seem dominant, just bossy and self-centered. I looked at him, sitting there at the drafting table he'd bought with my money and without my consent and decided that all the spankings in the world weren't worth getting taken advantage of like this. And this bonus thing? I was totally uncomfortable with getting paid thousands of dollars to forget something that never should have happened in the first place.
I went into the bathroom, drew a bubble bath and locked the door, and tried to relax in the warm water as I pondered what I was going to have to do the next day. After I got to work I'd change the PIN number on my account so Kevin would no longer have access. Then I'd give Mr. Smith both his money back and a two week notice, vowing not to file charges if he'd agree to give me a glowing reference. Then I'd break up with Kevin.
It was going to be a busy day. But knowing what I finally had to do, and screwing up the resolve to do it, gave me the first good sleep that night that I'd had in months.
I haven't slept well since.
Needless to say, nothing went as planned and if I had known how badly it was going to go, I would not have slept a wink.
The police were at my office when I arrived, going through my desk as the Smith brothers looked on. Derrick Smith was shaking his head and muttering, "I don't know how she could do this. We've been so good to us..."