Bared and Tamed

by Kallista Dane

  * * *

  Within thirty minutes of leaving the office, Rylie was surprised to find urban sprawl give way to nature. She followed a winding road past home sites that got further and further apart, crossed over a noisy creek dotted with huge boulders, and finally came to his address on a pair of brick pillars flanking a black-topped drive lined with Bradford pear trees in full bloom. She turned in, headed around a curve, and was surprised to find a stately beige brick two-story house that looked much too traditional for someone like Neill Sullivan to choose as his home.

  Her stomach clenched as she realized that he could make good on his threat to spank her any time he wanted when she was here, since there were no neighbors nearby to hear the noise, as they would through the thin walls of her apartment. The fear was tinged with an unwelcome flutter of excitement at the thought.

  The driveway ended in a circle in front of the house. Parking her car, she headed up the wide flagstone path. Before she could muster up the courage to knock, the door was flung open.

  Sullivan had changed clothes. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to the muscles in his upper body, tucked into a pair of well-worn faded jeans. He looked even sexier than he did in a tux. Rylie swallowed. She remembered just how powerful those arms were, holding her in place face-down over his lap.

  “Good. You’re right on time today. You showed up at my office ten minutes late last night. I forgot to mention then that in the future you’ll get one swat from the paddle for every minute you’re late when you arrive here to work.”

  She bit her tongue to keep from calling him an asshole again and stepped inside.

  Although traditional on the exterior, inside the house was casual and comfortable. Peering into the rooms on either side of the two-story entry foyer, Rylie wondered how much of the décor was the work of Ashlaigh. One side held what would have been a formal living room, with the usual brick fireplace along the outside wall. But this room was anything but formal. A pair of cozy leather sofas formed an L-shaped seating arrangement and an enormous flat-screen TV was mounted over the mantel. In the corner of the room, a vintage jukebox outlined in curved neon tubes flashing a rainbow of colors spun out an old Elvis song.

  Sullivan didn’t bother to offer her a tour of the house. “Follow me,” he said briskly, leading her down the center hallway to a wing added onto the back. Double doors opened into a spacious home office, laid out in similar fashion to his office in the city. An antique round oak table stood in one corner, with three straight-backed wooden chairs tucked under it. The fourth was up against the wall near his desk. Rylie wondered if that was so it would be handy for pulling some obstinate woman over his lap. Instead of the usual pair of armchairs, a small loveseat faced the desk.

  “You can put your purse down over there.” Sullivan gestured to the single wooden chair. “Take off your clothes and put them on the chair. Then come here and bend over the arm of the loveseat.”

  Oh, God, he really was going to spank her again, right now. When she simply stood there, frozen, he folded his arms. “I can wait as long as you can,” he remarked calmly. “But every minute you make me wait is another minute added to the spanking you have coming. And believe me; sixty extra seconds of getting your ass steadily whacked will seem like a very long time.”

  “Can we discuss this?” she said. “Is there anything else I could do to make up for that phone call?”

  “First, take off all your clothes. Any discussion you want to have will come after you’re in the nude. Besides, you don’t want to discuss this. You want to argue with me and try to change my mind. Any time we spend in that kind of ‘discussion’ will be added to the time you’ll spend being spanked. I expect obedience, Rylie, not arguments. And this spanking isn’t for the phone call. It’s for slamming the door last night as you were leaving the office. I told you that for the next six months you’ll be punished every time you fail to control your bad temper.

  “Now, by my count, you’ve already earned yourself an extra two minutes,” he went on. “Even if I take my time, that’s thirty or forty more swats than you already had coming. But hey—it’s up to you.”

  She remembered the horrible sting of his hand and swallowed a ‘Fuck you’ when she thought about the even worse agony of that hard wooden paddle. Rylie vowed he would not see her panic or beg for mercy. She marched to the wooden chair, head held high, and took off her jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair.

  “Turn around and face me, like you did last night.”

  Every time he mentioned last night, her anxiety ramped up another notch. She wasn’t sure which she was more ashamed of—the humiliation of bending over his lap and then over the desk and allowing herself to be spanked, or her shameful writhing under his skillful fingers afterwards when he’d gotten her to ask for more. But right now there was a no-nonsense tone in his voice and Rylie dared not defy him. She unbuttoned the white blouse and unzipped her skirt, blushing as she stood before him. For some reason, undressing in front of him here in his home while he stood and watched seemed even more embarrassing than it had in his office.

  Sullivan shook his head sadly. “You really want to test me, don’t you?” he said. “See how far you can push? See if I’ll go the distance?”

  Her eyes must have registered her confusion. He pointed.

  “The panties. I specifically told you to be wearing nothing under your skirt when you arrived.”

  His voice became harder and she felt a shiver of fear.

  “From now on, you’ll have your panties off any time you’re in this house. I don’t care if you have to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take them off when you get out of the car. You’ve just earned five strokes of the paddle—and that’s in addition to the five you already have coming for cussing at me last night. Put your bra on the chair, then take those panties off and bring them to me.”

  Rylie didn’t know what perverse instinct had made her ignore his instructions, but now she inwardly cursed her defiant streak. Clad once again only in high heels, she slowly walked toward him. He held out his palm and she laid the wisp of lace in it. The worst part was that, skimpy as they were, they had hardly afforded any coverage in the first place.

  He pointed and she reluctantly draped her body over the arm of the loveseat. He pushed her head down so that it was touching the seat. This time, her body was bent at such an angle that her ass was sticking up even higher in the air than it did when she was stretched out over his desk.

  “Cross your arms, lay your head on them, and remember—don’t move.”

  Without warning, his hand cracked down on her behind. Rylie bit off a scream. Her ass was still tender from last night’s episode and if the first wallop hurt this much, she dreaded what was to come.

  Sullivan smacked her again, deliberately, on the same spot. In spite of her resolve, she let out a little cry. The sting was already turning to a searing burn, and this spanking had barely begun. He began lecturing her, punctuating his words with harsh wallops.

  “I won’t tolerate… whack… your temper tantrums, Rylie.” Whack whack. “It’s rude and disrespectful.” Whack whack whack.

  She sank her teeth into the side of a finger, swearing not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her yell. Sullivan seemed intent on making her lose control and dissolve into tears. The searing impact of his firm hand over and over, bringing a hot flush to cheeks that had barely recovered from the last punishment, had her shuddering with the effort to remain silent and unmoving. Every instinct in her was crying out, telling her to jump up and put him on the floor with a volley of kicks and blows, just like she did with Ethan in class. But she’d already seen how swiftly he could counter an attack and she was afraid any such move on her part would simply earn her an even harder spanking.

  Finally he stopped. Rylie drew in a long breath, then let it out. Sullivan took off his watch and laid it in front of her on the loveseat.

  “I want you to keep time for me. Call out when it’s over.

Your extra two minutes start now.”

  Before she could process his words, Rylie felt the fire. When he smacked her again, she did scream. Somehow, thinking the spanking was over and then having him begin again made the agony even worse.

  Sullivan stopped abruptly and came around the loveseat to crouch by her side.

  “It occurs to me that you need a reminder of just why you’re getting this additional spanking. Open your mouth,” he commanded.

  Rylie shook her head violently from side to side. She didn’t know what he had in mind, but she was sure she wasn’t going to like it.

  “Do you want me to double the extra time?”

  She opened her mouth to answer and he shoved in the wadded-up panties.

  “Next time I tell you to do something, I hope you’ll pay attention.”

  He spread out the torment this time, pausing after each stroke. The pauses were somehow worse than if he’d kept spanking her steadily. She stared at the watch as each second ticked by, tensing to anticipate the next blow. Rylie was certain her butt was a blistering shade of red by the time a minute and a half had passed. The last thirty seconds were the longest of her life.

  When he smacked her again, she began shaking her head desperately.

  “Oh, is my two minutes up? I forgot you couldn’t tell me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. When Sullivan came around and pulled the panties out of her mouth, it was all she could do not to bite off one of his fingers. He helped her to stand up and she met his eyes.

  “I hate you,” she muttered. “You’re a sick, sadistic son of…”

  He smiled when her voice trailed off. “See, it’s working already. The threat of being paddled for every cuss word is helping you gain some control over your tendency to spout foul language. I hate to resort to clichés, but someday you’ll thank me for this.”

  “When pigs fly!” she shot back.

  He sank down onto the loveseat and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her stiff body.

  “Rylie, I know you’re angry with me right now. Your bad temper tells me you spend a lot of time angry with the whole world. Life so far hasn’t been easy for you, has it? You’ve used that anger to build a wall around you—because underneath the anger is a whole lot of hurt.”

  He began stroking her hair and in spite of herself, Rylie sagged against him.

  “I know you can’t believe it right now, but I’m not doing all this to be mean or get revenge over some insulting words you left on a voicemail. I’m doing it because I genuinely care about you. I think it’s been a long, long time since you’ve had anyone who cares, Rylie.”

  She looked up at him and the tears she’d struggled to hold back welled up in her eyes.

  “You’re a fantastic person. People who meet you are in awe of the strength and intelligence you convey. But you’ve locked up the warm, caring, vulnerable side of your personality behind that wall for so long that it’s no longer a defense. It’s a prison.

  “You think as long as you hide behind the wall, people won’t be able to see the real you—the scared little girl trying so hard to be brave who’s been taking on the world all alone for so long. You’re safe with me, Rylie. I want to show you that you can let yourself be soft sometimes, let yourself be warm and funny, let that little girl inside come out and play. It won’t make you weak. It’s what makes you human.”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. His words were so unexpected. In some ways, it was more frightening to have him treat her tenderly after the spanking than it was for him to take her with the savage hunger he’d shown last night. Raw sex could be compartmentalized. It didn’t have to involve messy feelings. Feelings sucked. Yes, there was happiness occasionally, but in her experience there was mostly disappointment and hurt, grief and loss and loneliness.

  She pulled away, trying desperately to regain some dignity despite her sore bottom and naked state.

  “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Sullivan,” she replied, her voice sharp and cold as ice. “However, I would prefer it if we could keep this temporary arrangement strictly on a business level. Surely you didn’t expect me to become your giggling little playmate for two hours every evening, especially after a spanking.”

  Sullivan let her go. “There’s nothing wrong with playing sometimes. I hope I can convince you of that in the next six months, if nothing else. By the way, you don’t need to call me Mr. Sullivan while you’re in my home. ‘Master’ will be fine.”

  He let out a peal of laughter at the shocked look on her face.

  “It’s a joke, Rylie. At least for now,” he added, a flash of hunger returning to his eyes as he stared openly at her naked body.

  She glared at him and the moment passed. Rylie stood up, preparing to get dressed. But Sullivan stopped her.

  “You still have ten whacks of the paddle coming—five for swearing last night and five for disobeying me and having those panties on when you arrived here.”

  He pulled a round wooden paddle out from between the cushions of the loveseat.

  Rylie was horrified. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “You can’t!”

  Sullivan took her by the hand, pulling her reluctantly back into place over the arm of the loveseat. “I’m afraid I have to, Rylie,” he said. “The threat of discipline is meaningless if I don’t follow through. This time, you’re going to count each stroke.”

  She shuddered when his hand began tracing slow circles around her ass again. There was a crack, followed by a wave of pain worse than anything she’d felt up till now.

  “Count out loud, Rylie.”

  She choked back a sob. “One.”

  “Remember, this paddling is for cussing and for disobeying a direct command from me. It’s easy to avoid being punished like this in the future. All you have to do is learn to control those outbursts of anger… and learn that when I tell you to do something or in this case not to do something, I expect you to obey.”

  Another loud smack, then she felt the lick of fire again, searing her already reddened bottom.

  “Two,” she muttered through gritted teeth, swallowing the string of curses she wanted desperately to scream out at him.

  He was as good as his word, delivering each harsh whack, and then pausing until she counted it aloud. Somewhere around the sixth, Rylie gave up her efforts to be stoic and allowed the tears to flow freely, her voice breaking even as she managed to keep her wits about her enough to remember what number she was on. The pain was endless, agonizing. When she got to ten, her iron control shattered and she dissolved into racking sobs.

  Sullivan’s voice was crooning again, his hands stroking up and down her back, softly rubbing her blazing ass. But there was no hint of anything sexual about his touch. He seemed to realize that Rylie would not be receptive to any such advances this time. She lay across the loveseat, crying bitterly; angry and confused by the mixture of gentle caring and tough discipline he’d shown. How could he say nice things to her one minute, and then treat her so cruelly the next?

  Displaying an unexpected degree of understanding, Sullivan gave her the emotional space she needed. He let her lie there and cry, continuing to run his hands soothingly up and down her back until her sobs dissolved into soft gasps, then helped her to her feet. Telling her to get dressed, he got up and turned his back, giving her a measure of privacy this time.

  Rylie was careful to leave the panties off, biting back a low cry as the wool skirt touched her sore ass. She was still shaking. This man kept her off-balance. She never knew which Neill she’d be dealing with—the savvy businessman, the charming Southern gentleman, the arrogant male asserting his authority over her, or the skilled lover who brought her to a new peak of ecstasy last night.

  Sullivan kept the focus on business for the rest of their session, discussing the duties she’d have as his personal assistant, showing her where files and supplies were kept, dictating some correspondence. Thankfully, Rylie was able to walk around the room or remain standing throughout it all. She didn’t know when she’d be able to sit again without wincing in pain.

  When eight o’clock rolled around, he came over and took her by the hand.

  “I do hope you believe that I have your best interests at heart, Rylie,” he said. “That last spanking I gave you was not something I enjoyed doing. But it was necessary, so that in the future you’d know I’m serious when I say I won’t tolerate temper tantrums or blatant disobedience from you.”

  She pulled her hand back and met his eyes coldly, letting him see the mixture of disdain and disbelief with which she greeted that statement.

  “I think you’re despicable. You’ve taken advantage of the difficult situation I put myself in and now you’re using me like slave labor, complete with the whippings. You’re a cold, heartless brute.”

  As usual, he didn’t rise to the bait, refusing to defend himself against her verbal attack.

  “It’s okay to be angry with me, Rylie,” he replied in that infuriatingly mild tone he used every time she tried to push him into fighting. “You’ve said your piece without using a single swear word and I’m proud of you for that. I know how hard it is to overcome a deep-seated bad habit. But when you get past the anger, try to take a look at your own behavior. Are you only angry with me—or deep down are you really angry with yourself for causing all this? Remember, I’m not the one who got drunk and made all those calls. And I’m not the one who agreed to abide by the rules that were laid out and then deliberately chose to disregard them on my very first day.”

  With swearing taken out of the picture, Rylie discovered she was left with no response at all to his candid remarks. She gathered her things together and walked out the door, frustrated and confused, unwilling to let him see the tears that unexpectedly welled up in her eyes.

  Chapter Four

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