by Measha Stone
"I have been." She objected with a playful pout. He wanted to laugh at the forced innocence in her expression, but he wanted real answers from her. Then they would play.
"Yes. But when I ask you a question, I expect an actual answer." He took a step back from her and put his hand out toward the door, bowing slightly. "We can talk in the car. After you." She gave him an indecisive glance but made her way out of the break room and they headed to the garage.
Once her door was locked and she had clicked the belt into place he gave her firm look. "Now, what's not your thing?"
Her shoulders visibly slumped, and she took a deep breath. "Not going to let it go, are you?" she asked with a half grin.
"Nope. I can be quite persistent when the situation calls for it." He nodded. "I'll turn the car on once you've answered."
She thought for a moment and sighed again. "Okay." She shook her head. "I'm more of a worker, not a leader type. You know, submissive vs. dominant."
"Kerri's a submissive." He pointed out. "To a very strict dominant from what I've seen," he added. "What does that have to do with your job?"
"Well, nothing." She tapped her fingers on her knee. "It's just some people are cut out for management and some aren't. I'm not." She was facing him but her eyes never met his while she spoke.
"Why not?" He probed when she seemed to be finished with her explanation.
"Alex, can we please talk about something else? I just don't want to apply for the job. Okay?" Her tone had an edge to it that gave him the impression she was about to get nasty in her responses if he didn't let it go, and he really would rather spend the night playing than fighting with her. So he decided to let it drop. For the moment.
"For now." He agreed with a firm nod and turned the key to the ignition. "We can talk about it tomorrow on the way to Dad's. He's demanded we come for dinner." He pulled out of the lot and onto the half empty street.
"I'm at the diner until four. After that?"
He took a deep breath. He hated that she was killing herself with so many shifts. "Fine," he breathed out. He had promised he wouldn't get on her case about her jobs. After seeing the burn on her wrist, he was more convinced that she should quit the diner. "So, that was Stephen tonight?" He asked rounding the corner and heading toward his apartment. The night air was cool for a Chicago summer, and the humidity was at a record low, which meant he could have the windows down as he drove.
"Yep," was all she said. He was really beginning to think she'd end up with a red ass before they managed to get to his apartment.
"Your ex, Stephen?" he prompted. Her fingers drummed faster on her knee.
"Yep."
"Alyssa." His tone held a warning, and he really hoped she understood it, because he did not want to ruin their night with an argument or worse—a punishment. They hadn't really discussed that sort of thing yet, and it would be much easier if they had that talk before he had to administer one, but he wouldn't let the absence of the conversation keep him from paddling her if it was needed.
"Alex." She mocked his tone and laughed when his gaze shot to her. "I was kidding!" She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." She controlled her laughter enough to answer him properly. "I'm sorry. Yes, that was my ex. I'm not sure what he's doing here. He hates Chicago. Thank you for getting him out of the club by the way. I could have gotten him to go eventually, but it was much faster your way."
"He didn't seem to be handling his drinks very well," Alex remarked.
"Yeah." She answered but expanded her answer after a quick glare from him. "He's not good at holding his liquor. It was one of the reasons we broke up. I got tired of being his designated driver. Even when I wasn't with him I was expected to go get him when needed. "
"Is he a bad drunk?" He felt Alyssa stiffen at the question.
"He's a drunk. Says things he doesn't mean. Does things he wouldn't normally do. The usual." He didn't like how casual she made her statement.
"What time do you start in the morning?" he asked after reminding himself again that he did not want to start an argument.
"Six." She said after a large unladylike yawn that made him grin despite not liking her answer. His glance at the clock wiped away the smile, however.
"Six?" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, he really didn't. But this woman was beginning to make him lose his resolve not to put his foot down too firmly too quickly.
"I have to get up at six," she qualified ignoring his tone completely. "I start at 7." With that she smiled over at him as he pulled his car into the garage.
"You realize it's almost two in the morning." He controlled the volume but the firmness wasn't softened. "You'll get about 4 hours of sleep. If you fall asleep as soon as your ass hits the bed." So much for any playtime, he was too irritated.
"Alex, we talked—"
"We are going to talk again." He told her as he parked the car. Her reasonable tone only set his anger off more. Didn't she realize how exhausted she looked? The weariness of her eyes suggested she hadn't slept in days. The double shifts were taking their toll and although he had agreed to leave it at that, he wasn't willing to allow her to continue at such a neck-breaking pace.
"I have Monday off. No club or diner." She said as he unbuckled.
"Let's go inside," was all he said as he threw open his door. He waited for her to get out of the car before he grabbed her hand and walked toward the elevators. Was he being a complete ass? He didn't want her endangering her health for piddly tips and minimum wage. If she would apply for the management position she could quit the diner, her salary would double and she'd make commission off the party sales.
"I don't understand what you're so upset about," she whispered on the way up to his apartment. "I have to work."
"You don't have to work two jobs. Not back to back like this. You are exhausted. You've worked how many double shifts this week?" He didn't look at her; he didn't trust himself to. If she had given him the slightest pout or softened gaze he might lose his resolve. "How many, Alyssa?" He demanded in a stronger voice when she remained quiet. He knew the number was going to anger him even more. "Alyssa." Last warning.
"Four." She finally said with a heavy sigh. "In a row," she added so quietly he almost didn't hear it over the steam building in his ears. He tightened his hold on her hand but said nothing. She hadn't been his then, he reminded himself. They had been barely talking. Nothing he said to himself convinced him to calm down.
"And you've been walking to and from the club?" He asked in a low voice, which if she had known him better would probably have frightened her.
"This is stupid." She said as the doors to the elevator opened and she yanked her hand free of his, stomping off into the apartment. He followed right on her heels as she continued to stomp her way to her room.
"What's stupid?" he demanded once in her room.
She threw her purse on the dresser and squared off with him. "I do not want you to micromanage me."
"I haven't done a damn thing." He put a hand up to stop her. "Yet." He took a steadying breath. How could one woman get him so off balance so easily? "I'm not looking to micromanage anything. But you are exhausted. You can't keep this up. There's no need to keep this up. I don't like you working at the diner," he said flatly.
"I don't like not being able to pay the bills," she responded with heat.
"Alyssa."
"I need to get to sleep." She waved her hand at him. "As you said, only four hours if I get my ass in bed right away. So if you'll excuse me—" She turned and disappeared into the bathroom, dismissing him entirely.
He stood in the middle of the empty room staring at the closed door of the bathroom. He wasn't wrong. He hadn't been overbearing. He wasn't even demanding she quit. He was looking for a conversation. She was blowing him off like his opinion didn't matter. As though she hadn't agreed to submit to his authority in their relationship.
He remembered all of the naughty things he had wanted to do with her when they got home. All of the de
liciously wonderful things that would leave them both in a heap, sweaty happy mess. A shake of his head dismissed all of those wonderful activities that would have to be put on hold. The bathroom door began to open just as he began to unbuckle his belt.
Chapter Nineteen
The man wasn't going to let up. She leaned back against the door to the bathroom, having just slammed it on him, and took a deep breath. She'd never had to answer to anyone before. Her mother was a needy mess, but she never cared where Alyssa was or what she was doing, so long as she paid the bills and kept the liquor cabinet stocked. In order to do that, Alyssa had had to hold several jobs at one time. It wasn't new to her, working two jobs. It had been needed to pay rent, feed them, and keep her mother in a livable condition.
She pushed away from the door and went to the sink, wanting to wash away the grime of the day. She noticed her reflection and winced. He was right. She looked exhausted. Hell, she was exhausted. The diner shift took a lot out of her, and the evening shift at the club had been twice as hard to get through. She promised herself that once she saved enough money to find a good place to live, she'd cut back, but until then she needed all the shifts she could get, and Alex would just have to deal with that. She couldn't take the management job. Of course it would be better money, but she didn't have the smarts. She could do some of the work Kerri had shown her over the past few weeks, but she wouldn't be able to handle it on her own. No. Waitressing was fine work for her.
After washing her face and pulling her clothes off she looked at the tub. As much as she wanted to sink into a nice hot bath, she had to get to bed. She had another long shift ahead of her, and as much as Alex would gripe about it, she had to be there.
She knew he was coming from a place of caring. He wasn't trying to be an overbearing ass, but she was definitely seeing him that way. Stephen had always tried to dictate what she could and couldn't do, telling her it was his right as her dominant. They didn't last long in that relationship. Aside from his drinking, she couldn't stand the constant demands on her and his micromanaging of her life. It was never that he cared about where she was; it was simply that he felt he needed to give her permission for everything. He made a much better friend than he did a dominant. They got along a lot better that way.
When Alex tensed at the mention of her diner shift, she knew he was unhappy about it. She also knew it wasn't because she wouldn't let him dictate her employment choices; he was truly concerned about her. She was running herself ragged, but he just didn't understand why it was necessary. She would make him understand. She'd wait until the morning. No sense bothering at the moment. He was probably half asleep by now anyway, she told herself as she reached for the handle of the door now dressed in her PJ bottoms and tank top.
He wasn't asleep. He was standing in the middle of the room, exactly where she had stomped away from him, holding his belt in his right hand. Her eyes darted to the loosely hanging leather at his side and then his expression. Dark. Extremely dark. His lips were pursed, his jaw set tight, and his eyes fixated on her with a sternness she hadn't believed him capable of until that moment.
"Uh-um." She stammered standing just outside the bathroom staring at his hand that was swinging the belt and casually tapping it against his leg. "Uh." What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she get a full word out, and why wasn't he saying anything?
"I think I've been pretty patient. I haven't demanded anything. I haven't encroached on your plans, have I?" His voice held steady, no tremor or indecisiveness to it.
She swallowed. "Well. No, not really."
"I haven't told you what to do, what to wear, where to go, anything like that?" He took one step toward her and her stomach twisted.
"Not really." She had to be honest. Other than his lines of questioning he hadn't really made her do anything. Other than making her leave her apartment, which she had to be honest, wasn't exactly the worst thing.
"Yet, when I try having a conversation about your health, your wellbeing—you feel it's respectful to blow me off and stomp away. Slamming doors." His tone didn't waiver, but the volume had lowered. She found herself holding the hem of her shirt with both hands, and twisting the fabric with her fingers.
"Not when you say it that way," She tried a smile, a little humor. It didn't faze him or deter him, he took another step toward her. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore, she noticed. His button down shirt that was neatly tucked into his beltless slacks had been rolled up at the sleeves. She wanted to bolt back into the bathroom but her feet were being entirely too uncooperative. "Alex." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I told you. I'm not good at this." His raised eyebrow told her it might not have been the best tactic.
"Good at what? Being respectful?" The slapping of the belt against this leg became more intense.
"The full time submissive thing. I'm not good at it. I told you that." She really wished he wouldn't take another step. One more and he'd be within touching distance and since her feet still wouldn't obey her, she was sure he'd grab her.
"When we talked about us becoming a couple, us doing this, I told you I would help you with that." He reminded her with a calm in his voice. He looked upset yes, irritated even, but not angry. Not out of control anger. She knew he was in complete control of himself, and even her with the way he kept looking at her. It was as if running wasn't an option, her feet understood that before her brain did, apparently. The bastards.
"Well, yes. I remember." Her answer came softly. He had said that, and she had agreed. She had always enjoyed the submissive side of herself. Not just sexually. She'd had enough playtime at the dungeons to know she loved the kiss of the flogger, but it was when the scene ended that the real cravings began. She'd seen couples at the parties, even at Top Floor. The caring between the partners, the love and respect the dominants showed their subs, and it was reciprocated. That's what she craved. The dominance that continued after the flogging.
And here it stood. Right in front of her holding a leather belt.
"Have you ever been spanked, for punishment?" He asked, not moving toward her any more. He looked as though he didn't trust himself to move closer, and she got the distinct feeling that once she was within reach, their talk would be over.
"Once." Stephen had other means of punishment. Isolation mostly. He'd remove himself from her for a period of time. No calls, no texts, no emails. Nothing. And she wasn't allowed to contact him during that time either.
"They're different than play spankings," he told her. She wanted to roll her eyes in a 'well duh' sort of way, but she thought better of it. "You can use your safeword if you need to, but understand that it will only pause the punishment not end it. Once you're ready to start it again it will continue." If she wanted to use it, she could end the spanking. But would that be counterproductive? She knew he wouldn't hurt her, not really, not in a bad way. Although she was sure what he had in mind wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Okay," She heard herself agree. What was wrong with her? Just a few hours ago she was fighting for her independence, not wanting to give him an inch, but all the while wanting him to take it all. She couldn't explain why she kept evading his questions. His concern for her had made her feel safe, cared for. For the first time in what seemed forever she felt as though someone cared about her. She wasn't so silly to call it love. She'd seen her mother blow through enough men to know that love didn't really exist, not lifelong love anyway. And if it did, it wasn't in the cards for her.
"Come here." He sat on the bed and patted the spot beside him. "I'm a little more traditional in this sense." He reached for her when she was within a foot of him. He continued to hold the belt in his hand as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic of her bottoms and pulled them down, letting them fall to her ankles. She instinctively put her hands in front of herself. She had removed her panties not knowing what was in store for her when she exited the bathroom. He shook his head and pushed her hands away. "Never hide from me," he warned. "Put your hands behind your back."
&nb
sp; She kept her eyes averted from him as she obeyed, folding her hands behind her. His warm fingers ran up her leg starting from her knee and trailing up her inner thigh until he reached her betraying wetness. She knew it was punishment, she knew he was upset with her, and she did feel remorseful for having put them in their current position, but his dominance was fucking hot. No matter how he sliced it, it was hot to have him so domineering, so in control, so focused on the matter at hand and not just trying to get her naked and in bed.
"You're already wet." He didn't smile with the comment, but did look up at her. His eyes remained focused, and his jaw was still tense. "That's really too bad. There won't be any satisfaction for you tonight." Before she responded, he flipped her onto her stomach. He had adjusted himself on the bed so that she landed over his lap. One leg moved from beneath her and wrapped around her legs, effectively pinning her to him. "Put your hands in front of you. If you move them, I'll bind them." His tone was businesslike and for a moment she imagined that was what he sounded like when he was conducting his business meetings.
She nodded her understanding and gripped the comforter of the bed. Before she was given any time to wonder if he would start with his hand, a sharp slap of the leather penetrated through her. She tensed but didn't cry out, a second strike of the belt landed in the same spot. "I expect you to behave in a respectful manner. At all times, not just when you feel like it." And then belt came down on her again, lower this time.
A heat unlike the floggers she'd been used to started spreading through her backside. She bit her lip hoping not to cry out, but when the belt crashed down on her again she bucked up with a yelp. He tightened his hold on her and continued. He said nothing else as he laid into her burning backside. The belt came down again and again and again. She tried to twist away from it, but his grip around her waist was firm. Kicking was useless as he had her legs trapped beneath his. The punishment continued until her tears flowed freely.
"I'm sorry!" She finally cried out. "I'm sorry!" The spanking didn't end then, either. He threw the belt to the floor and began to pepper her ass with his hand. Hard swats of his palm met the burning flesh of her behind. After at least a dozen strokes his hand stilled, resting on the curve of her backside. She laid her head against the mattress and let herself cry. She realized soon enough it wasn't from the pain, although her ass was lit up with fire, she was crying with relief.