A Thousand Yesses

by Jane Henry

  “Yes?” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “Uh, what’s up?”

  He curled a finger and beckoned for her to come. She began walking to him, her feet heavy as lead, but he shook his head.

  “Hand the camera to Louanne, Celia,” he ordered. “And come here.”

  She knew she should tell him no. It was foolish to obey him now, when those wicked, glittering eyes were focused on her, the set of his jaw making her stomach tighten and clench, the paddle clenched in his hand, causing waves of arousal to shoot through her. But his voice, impossibly smooth and so deep she felt it in her limbs, was weaving an enchantment around her.

  He was spinning his web, and she was caught.

  She never knew how she got there. She never remembered the walk across the room as she stood in front of him. He was so big, so tall, even though he was sitting, still towering over her.

  He looked in her eyes steadily. “Am I right?” he asked, so low, only she could hear. “That we won’t have a problem staging a spanking scene tonight?”

  She nodded, and swallowed. There was a lump in her throat and tears stung her eyes and she wanted to beg him, plead with him, to not go there, please don’t go there, she couldn’t handle it.

  But when would she ever get to live out her fantasy? Would the opportunity ever present itself again?

  “Yes,” she said. And with all that was in her, she grinned and winked. “I’m game if you are.”

  He grinned back, and his response was a whisper. “Oh, I’m game.”

  * * *

  “Celia’s willing and able,” Maverick shouted out to Rodney, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Damn.

  Rodney hooted, and Louanne giggled, but Celia didn’t look at them. The blood was pounding in her ears. Her legs had turned to jelly. She was afraid if she opened her mouth to speak, she wouldn’t be able to, and her resolve would flee. When Maverick spoke, his words were too low for them to hear. He twirled the paddle in his hand, as he pointed to the floor. “Kneel, please,” he said evenly.

  Gah! Kneel?

  Her knees hit the floor and his finger went to her chin.

  His eyes went to the camera as he spoke. “Getting your girl into a submissive posture is a good way to begin a discipline session. I prefer asking her to kneel, though having her stand with her nose in the corner, stripped, gets the job done, too.” Fire licked her core, and she felt as if a palpable heat rose between them as his eyes came back to her. “Taking her chin in hand will ensure you don’t lose eye contact.”

  Celia swallowed. His eyes were so dark, so deep, those friendly, kind, brooding eyes she’d walk across hot coals to please. She wanted to laugh, and cry. He could release her chin, but she couldn’t look away if she tried. Not now.

  “Tonight, our plans went awry because you weren’t efficient,” he began to chide, for the camera. He leaned close, and whispered in her ear, low enough for her to hear, but the camera wouldn’t pick it up. “And you binged on crappy food that’ll make you sick. Didn’t you?” he asked. She felt a lump rise in her throat, and she nodded wordlessly. His voice kept going, his breath tickling her neck, and she wished he would never stop talking. “You shouldn’t take such poor care of yourself,” he whispered. “And I’m gonna warm your ass for it.”

  Celia felt ashamed, and turned on, and excited, and nervous, all at once.

  He patted his lap. In that moment she knew, for as long as she lived, she would never forget the image of Maverick sitting on the couch, looking at her sternly, but not unkindly, patting his lap to beckon her to assume the position to be punished.

  Standing on wobbling legs, she placed herself over his lap.

  Spanking was not new to her. She’d been tied up and gagged, whipped with a flogger and caned, paddled in nightclubs, and hell, she’d even wielded the paddle herself a time or two, to appease a few guys she knew who liked to switch. Celia was no spanking virgin. But for some reason, it felt suddenly like this was her first time. Even though she had been over his knee, it was years ago, and she was a different person now.

  This felt different. There was a heat between them, and she understood that he was doing more than playacting. He’d told her before to stop eating crap and making herself sick. Once he’d even found a package of fudge-covered Oreos she’d bought as break-up consolation food. He’d lectured her and thrown it all away. She knew he didn’t like to her to self-sabotage.

  His voice strengthened as he faced the camera again. “Ensure proper position. For a smaller girl like my girl here, over the knee is what I prefer. Easy to restrain, intimate, and you can tell her reaction easily. Also, many girls find it easier to take a punishment if she’s over your lap.”

  My girl.

  My girl.

  Why did he have to say ‘my girl’?

  “Sometimes, I may have a submissive kneel on the couch, especially if she’s getting strapped with my belt.” Celia felt her breath catch, and her heart skipped a beat. Holy shit, she’d never get over this night. “Kneeling on a chair is another position, or up against a wall. For longer implements, those positions are preferable. But for a good paddling, over the knee works well.”

  He turned his attention to Celia. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, young lady?” he asked sternly.

  “No, sir,” she said, as if they’d practiced this before. She was about to be spanked, but she’d play her part fine. It felt funny, but strangely satisfying to say sir to Maverick.

  He lifted the paddle, and without warning – Whack!

  The breath hissed out of her and she squealed a bit. She couldn’t believe the other girl had said he couldn’t spank. The swat from the leather paddle stung and warmed her, though she was still wearing jeans. Wham! Another hard swat. Whack! Another one fell. She was having a hard time staying in position. Her bottom was on fire, and she could hardly focus on what was coming as another hard swat of the paddle caught her just above the tender part of her thigh.

  “Do that again, and next time, I’ll spank you bare,” he said, his voice low and growly. Her leg flew up with the next swat, but he was ready. One leg lifted and he pinned her into place with a leg over hers. Tight under his leg, one enormous hand pinning her down, she felt the sharp sting of the paddle fall again and again. She lost track of how many swats he gave her. The spanking went on, and on, and she wondered if they should’ve established a safe word before they began. But this was Maverick. Why would she have to safeword with Maverick?

  “You’ll remember this every time you sit over the next few days,” he continued lecturing. And as he continued peppering her with slow, stinging, hard swats, she felt the lump in her throat dissolve. She felt awful for having messed up their session tonight. Double-checking the women she’d invited for the filming would’ve been a wise move. She still felt sick to her stomach, and ashamed that she’d made herself sick again. But most of all, she longed so badly for this to be real, it was impossible to keep her tears at bay.

  He gave her three more stinging swats before she heard the paddle drop to the couch with a soft thump. Then his hand was on her, and to her shock, before he lifted her, she felt him hard beneath her.

  Had spanking her turned him on? She felt pleased that it had.

  “Good,” he said, as she sniffled and wiped her eyes, head cast down on his chest, and she knew she wouldn’t be caught on camera, because Louanne wouldn’t video her face. “Tears aren’t always achieved with even the hardest of spankings,” he murmured in his deep, husky voice. She felt the reverberation of her voice in her chest, and it soothed her. Her tears slowed.

  “So never make tears your gauge. Many tops or Doms try to ‘spank to tears’ and sometimes it simply won’t work.” He paused, his large hand stroking her shoulder and nestling her head against his chest. “Tears are an emotional response,” he said softly. “And if you lecture your girl well, and let her know you mean business, she may find when you’re done that the tears are actually very cleansing. But, your mileage m
ay vary.” He paused. “Thank you for watching, viewers, and, as always, keep your sessions safe, sane and consensual.”

  There was silence in the room for a moment, when they were done. Her head still on his shoulder, she lifted her face and swiped at her tears. She felt suddenly as if a weight had been lifted. She was light as a feather. She felt so happy and relaxed, she barely processed that Maverick was looking at her strangely.

  Breaking into a grin, he patted her on the shoulder. “Way to keep it real, girl,” he said. “Nice job.” She felt a twinge of disappointment, but he leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “But you’re gonna be a good girl tonight and take care of yourself, aren’t you?”

  She nodded and winked. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’ll think about it. We might need to do a second take on that. You never know.”

  He laughed, lifting his arm as if to give her permission to get up. She stood, not quite sure what to do with herself. Rodney was grinning.

  “You guys, that was such a perfect session. Geez, you nailed it. Hot, but informative, and Celia, awesome job bringing those tears up. Man, I’m so impressed. I didn’t know you were such a good actress.” He clapped her on the back like a chum.

  “She did good,” Maverick said. “Hey, you guys wanna go grab some drinks?”

  But Louanne wasn’t smiling. She was watching Celia warily, nodding. “Yeah, sure,” she said. Celia couldn’t meet her eyes.

  Rodney was clueless. Maverick, he could go either way. But Louanne wasn’t buying it was an act for a minute. Celia tossed her head and walked away.

  As she walked to the door, she wished for a moment he’d spanked her even longer and harder.

  She wished she could feel the sting forever.

  Chapter Four

  Maverick pulled up to his house, as his phone buzzed. It was late, and his mom hadn’t called him all night. He checked in after they left Rodney’s, and she’d said that Marianna was doing fine, watching Mary Poppins for the millionth time.

  “We popped popcorn, and we’re settling in,” his mom’s high, feeble voice assured him. “You have a good time with your friends, and we’ll see you later.”

  So he’d gone, satisfied they didn’t need him to come home right away. The group’d had some drinks. Celia had been strangely quiet all night, and he almost regretted spanking her. Almost. He knew they needed a session for their viewers, and he also knew that as a submissive, getting spanked regularly would be satisfying to her. She’d been fully clothed. He would normally remove the jeans for a spanking, but that seemed like he’d be going down a road he wasn’t interested in. And even if he was okay with baring her, he’d never be okay with baring her ass for all the world to see. Not happening.

  Louanne and Celia had talked in hushed whispers, but Rodney was on top of the world. Their latest videos from the previous few weeks had hit the top ten online, and that meant a higher pay grade. Although everything they posted was free to viewers, money from advertisers funded the videos that gleaned a certain amount of hits. Rodney was stoked. The money they made, after they split it, was more than enough to cover the flowers Louanne had picked out for the ceremony, the cake, and then some.

  “We have to keep this going,” he said with a chuckle, producing a pad of paper and pen, as the waitress brought their drinks. “We need more ideas.” They brainstormed thoughts, and had gone their separate ways when the night grew dark. Celia was tired, and Maverick walked her to her car.

  “You good?” he asked her. His question held so much.

  You okay to drive?

  You too tired?

  Are you okay with the fact that I spanked you?

  “Yeah,” she said nonchalantly. “Sure I am. You?” she teased, sticking her tongue out. He narrowed his eyes and opened the door to the car for her, swatting at the air as she squealed and got her ass in the car before his palm could connect.

  He watched until the fading glow of her taillights were gone. Still, when his phone rang, she was the first person he thought of. But it wasn’t Celia on the line. Rodney. “Whassup?”

  “Maverick, you won’t believe this!” Rodney’s voice was high, and excited. He spoke quickly. “I just got a message from CTB.”

  CTB, otherwise known as Chains that Bind, a local, classy BDSM club, known especially for instructional demos in their conference room. The front of the store sold specialty ropes and chains, under the guise of “Learn the Ropes.” But if you gave the password and walked to the very back room, you could gain access to the dark, exclusive club.

  “Yeah?” Maverick said, as he slid out from the car and went up to the side door. The door opened straight into the furnished basement where he’d set up his bachelor pad. It had never been used when he was younger, but he and Rodney had easily made it into an attached “in-law” apartment. He’d chosen to move in there when his presence at home became necessary more frequently. That way he could easily come home late and leave early for work when he needed to, but a quick trot upstairs and he could help his mom with Marianna when necessary. It was more private that way. Small, and somewhat cramped, it still smelled the way it did when he was a teen, working out by pummeling the punching bag his dad had hung from chains anchored to the ceiling. The punching bag still hung there, but the old boxing gloves collected dust now. He still used the treadmill and weights, and all the equipment was to the far side, away from the double bed in the center of the room. He had a bookcase lined with books, an end table next to his bed, a lamp that had been around since he was a child, and his own small private bathroom. It was perfect for when he needed privacy. And Marianna hated dark spaces, so she would never venture down and poke through his belongings.

  He noted it was quiet upstairs, as he listened to Rodney. When they were done on the phone, he’d go make sure everything was good, and lock up for the night.

  “Dude. They want us!” Rodney said.

  Maverick frowned. Who wanted what? “Huh?”

  “CTB!” Rodney responded. “The club said we hit record highs in our domming demos, and they want us to come and do a weekly class at their club.”

  Maverick sat down heavily on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. “Come again?” he said.

  “I talked to the guy in charge of demos at CTB. He said there’s been interest in our How to Dom videos, and he knows Celia, so he knows we’re local. He asked if we’d be willing to teach a weekly class at the club. And Maverick, get this…” He went on to give details on the payment plan.

  Maverick’s eyes widened. “All that just to show some guys how to hold a paddle?”

  “Girls, too.”

  “What?”

  “Well, we can anticipate there will be some Dommes, too.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said. “So, we go in and teach them how to hold paddles and give the basics on rules and structure, and shit like that?”

  “Yup.”

  “And they’ll pay us that much? For real?”

  “For real.”

  He paused. “What does Celia say?”

  “Haven’t talked to her yet. You want to call her?”

  Maverick nodded. “Yeah, I’ll give her a buzz. Gotta go check on Marianna and Mom, and I’ll text you later.”

  “All right, man. Night.” Click.

  Maverick frowned at the phone. Really, what were the risks? CTB was known for discretion and close monitoring of their clients. They had a good reputation with those in the scene, and they were only asking for a once-a-week commitment. After the brainstorming session over beers earlier, they had enough raw material to go for weeks. Plus, the more well known he became, the better his chances were of finding a submissive who met his needs.

  And his needs were high. He wanted a girl who was capable, strong, and intelligent. It would be nice if she were gorgeous, and put-together, and willing to bend to accommodate his high need for control. He didn’t want play or part time, but full time, and what most would consider hardcore. He’d been with a few girls who called themselves
submissives, but had begun to question whether he would ever find a girl who was looking for real domming. Like the girls who’d come to demo for the camera earlier, most of the girls he met were in it for the kink, but not interested in truly relinquishing control. He held his phone in his hand while he trotted upstairs. Quietly pushing the kitchen door open, he entered the kitchen.

  The large popcorn bowl still sat on the counter. Rinsing it, he nestled it into the dishwasher. He snagged the two drinking cups and placed them in as well. The dishwasher was almost full, so he opened the cabinet and took out the detergent, filled the tray, then closed the dishwasher. He set it on automatic as he went to go check in the living room.

  The windows were still wide open, so he shut and locked them, and flipped the deadbolt on the front door. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he sent a quick text to Celia.

  Babe, you still up?

  He shoved his phone in his pocket as he went upstairs to check on his mom and Marianna. Marianna’s door was shut tight, so he quietly opened it and peeked in. It was dark, though she still had her nightlight on. He could hear her soft sniffly snores as he closed the door.

  His mom always left her door open in case Marianna needed something in the middle of the night. She, too, was fast asleep. Maverick felt the phone in his pocket buzz, as he made his way back downstairs.

  Yeah, mon. Whassup?

  He smirked.

  Got a call from Rodney. You got a minute to talk on the phone? He texted.

  Her response came back right away. Well, was just getting busy with a threesome, but I’ll put it on hold for you and send these guys home.

  He growled at the phone. Celia!

  Naughty girl. You do that, and call me when the coast is clear.

  He knew she was joking. It wouldn’t have been unheard of that she’d taken a guy back to her place, but still, she was a one-at-a-time kind of girl.

  Why did the thought of her with anyone make his fists clench? She wasn’t his. They weren’t a thing. Maybe it was because she hadn’t found the right guy, and when she did... When she found someone who could take care of her, but keep her in line the way she needed... Maybe then he’d be okay with it. Yeah. It was just because she’d been hooked up with losers that made him want to punch a wall.