Or maybe not so lightly.
“Come lie across the bed on your stomach,” she said, patting the pillow she’d set beside her.
And for some stupid reason, he went.
Chapter Seventeen
Warmth pooled in her abdomen as she watched him lie down at her direction. A blushing, willing submissive, strong enough to protest and pretend that he had no interest whatsoever in the lifestyle she offered, but was unable to resist. For all his glares and yelling, he was incredibly trusting and open to at least experimentation. There were so many things she could teach him. The joy of submitting, fully and whole-heartedly, on his knees and head bowed. The tender care she’d give after he’d accepted whatever punishment she deemed necessary.
“This feels ridiculous,” he mumbled against the sheet, keeping his face down. He squirmed against the pillow, trying to get comfortable. “It’s too high.”
“Of course it is.” She shifted around to face him, tucking her left leg up but keeping her right foot down on the floor. “I need that scrawny ass nice and high if I’m going to spank it.”
He growled against the sheet, making her smile. “I still don’t see…”
She popped his buttocks with the paddle.
“OW!” He rose up on his elbows to glare at her.
“I’m just getting started, cupcake. That wasn’t enough to swat a fly.” She dropped another blow in the same spot. “Do you want to give your safeword so quickly? Great, I could use the sleep.”
He snarled and dropped his head back down on his forearms. “You’d like me to give up so easily.”
She leaned down and whispered against his ear. “No, cupcake, I’d like it if you make me paddle you for hours, until my arm is rubber and I’m drenched with sweat. That’ll be a real workout. For both of us.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Sitting back up, she hit him again. “The Mistress can call you anything she likes. Would you rather I call you pet? Boy? Slave?” He growled again, so she added, “I know. I’ll call you grizzly. Or mad dog. I think you’re frothing at the mouth.”
He kept his head down and didn’t complain any more, letting her settle into a rhythm. She didn’t increase the force of the blows, but started walking the paddle down the backs of his thighs. The tendons corded in the backs of his knees and he rocked back on his feet a little, as if he wanted to get up, but then thought better of it.
“This is only our first real session, so I’m going to keep my hands to myself. But I do admit that I love watching the muscles work on your back and shoulders. Soft gentle fingertips down your spine while I beat your ass can be a delicious torment.”
“I’d like that,” he whispered, tipping his head so he could peek at her through his thick hair. “Mistress.”
If he hadn’t added the title, she wouldn’t have indulged him. But that single word, said without a sneer this time, rang through her sweet and clear. She lightly stroked her left hand across his shoulder. “I won’t touch you sexually.”
“I wouldn’t mind that either,” he replied with a sheepish grin that twisted and squeezed her heart. That grin belonged to a much younger Harvey. A boy who’d grown up with doting parents who’d never had anything bad happen to him. “Not after that scene you gave me in the library. I’ll never be able to read a book in there again without getting a woody.”
Laughing, she ran her fingers down his spine, watching him shiver. “How are you feeling so far?”
“Fine.”
“No bad emotions? No anxiety or panic?”
“Nope.” His eyes closed, showing exactly how unafraid he was, though his back muscles were still coiled tight beneath her hand. “Do you think I’ll have a panic attack?”
“Punishment can be very freeing for some subs. It’s not only a release of energy, but of their pent-up emotions too. Things they’ve denied or buried deep. When they slip into subspace, things start to bubble up to the surface. It’s very normal and I’m not going to freak out or get emotional because you hurt my feelings or anything. I want your emotions, whatever they are. We’re here to give you a release of the things you keep bottled up inside, so that you can have some peace in your head. Are you ready to go a bit further?”
He nodded and turned his head back the other way so he wasn’t looking at her.
“Don’t hold anything back, Harvey. I want it all. I want your anger, your hurt, your hatred, whatever’s tearing you up inside. Don’t be afraid to let it out. I can deal with it. I promise.”
Eyes closed, body braced, he waited for her to begin again. So far, the paddle stung, definitely, but it was far from real pain. Would she actually have the stomach to hurt him like that? He still couldn’t fathom that people enjoyed hurting others, and more, that people actually liked the pain.
The paddle thunked harder than ever flat across both cheeks and he bit his lip to keep from yelling ow again. Without pause, she struck him again, again, settling into a rhythm that somehow matched his heartbeat. Or maybe his heartbeat sped up to match the blows. It didn’t hurt, exactly—but his ass felt like he was sitting way too close to a fire.
She worked the blows lower, spreading the flames down his hamstrings.
Sweating, he twisted his hands deeper into the sheet. He wanted to roll to his feet and run for his room. He wanted Maxwell to knock on the door. He wanted—
The paddle slammed into his right buttock only and he arched up off the bed with a growl.
“There’s my grouchy grizzly bear.” She hit him again, the same cheek, and the fire poured through his entire body, not just his butt. “Don’t hold anything back. I want your groans. I want your curses. If it hurts, tell me. Curse me. Just don’t give me silence.”
She hit his other cheek and his breath rushed out on a groan. He couldn’t hold it in.
“Yes.” Another blow, slightly harder, he thought, but it was getting hard to tell. “Look at you lying here, letting me paddle you. Letting me hurt you. I haven’t tied you up. I couldn’t stop you from leaving if you wanted to go. Why are you here, Harvey? Why did you lie down and allow me to hurt you?”
Something was wrong. The pain wasn’t as sharp, even though he felt the heavy thud against his body. It should hurt. It should hurt badly. But it wasn’t pain, exactly. Something swelled inside him, a feeling unlike anything he’d ever known before. It scared him, huge and overwhelming, a dark leviathan slowly surfacing inside his head.
“Harvey, talk to me. At least tell me how you’re feeling. Green for go, yellow for slow down, or give me your safeword.”
The darkness spread inside him, a black ice that twisted inside him, so cold it burned. He couldn’t feel his ass separately from his body any longer, because all his nerves were lit up and screaming with sensation.
“Harvey,” she insisted, pausing the blows.
His head was too heavy to move. Lightning slashed across the darkness in his mind. Something had changed.
“Do you need me to stop?”
“No,” he finally said. At least he thought he got the word out. His tongue didn’t seem connected to his body any longer.
“Give me a color so I know whether we’re on the right track or not.”
He blinked, trying to get his eyes to work. Her words slid away, like sand sliding through his fingertips. Then it hit him. That dark thing filling his mind.
Silence.
All the thousand-and-one plots he had spinning in the air to win the company back. His memories of the accident. The horrid months at the hospital, the agonizing healing and physical therapy. The pain, sharp and sickening, his constant companion, until his bones hurt. Everything had gone quiet and still inside him.
It was so incredible he almost started sobbing like a baby.
“Harvey?”
“Go,” he growled out. “Green. Don’t you fucking stop. Please!”
There were few things sweeter than hearing a big, strong man whimper.
Kelsey shifted her weight up to her left knee and braced a hand on his shoulder, both to keep him down and to give herself a better angle to drop the blows. Things were getting serious now. Ignoring the sweat stinging her eyes, she dropped the hardest blow yet across the bottom of his cheeks where they joined his thighs. She didn’t get a whimper, but a delightfully loud bellow.
He tore at the sheets and raised his head to shoot a glare her direction. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“Good though, yeah?”
She gave him another blow and his head fell back, his back bowing beneath her. “God, yes. I…” He panted, his entire body shuddering. “Had. No. Idea.”
“This is what your body feels like. You’ve been ignoring it a long time. Misusing it. Running yourself into the ground with too much stress and not enough sleep.” He ground his hips against the pillow she’d put beneath him, so she asked, “Do you have a hard-on right now?”
He started to drop his face back down against the mattress, so she grabbed a handful of his hair to keep him up. She rose up and planted a knee on his lower back, bringing her in nice and close. Another reason she preferred the paddle over the crop.
“Tell me.”
“Yes.” She dropped several hard, staccato blows to help him remember his respect. “Mistress!”
She shifted the blows down to the thickest curve of his hamstrings. “Have you figured out why you’re so angry yet?”
He bucked beneath her, almost managing to shift her off his back. To disrupt and punish him at the same time, she changed to slapping one thigh and then the other, back and forth, and when he started to expect it, she changed to strike only one side several times. Changing it over and over, keeping him guessing, not allowing him to settle into any kind of pattern.
“Good.” Her breathing labored too, and her arm would probably be sore tomorrow, but it’d be worth it if she could paddle him into a climax. “Fight me. I like a good struggle. I’m going to make you face that anger. You’re going to look it in the eye and figure out what’s bothering you deep inside where you refuse to go.”
The skin across his thighs mottled red and purple. He’s going to have some gorgeous bruises tomorrow too.
“No.”
She paused the blows and leaned down to look into his eyes. “What the fuck did you say to me?”
“No.” He gulped. “Mistress. Please. I don’t want—”
“This isn’t about what Harvey wants any longer. This is my scene. If you want to leave my scene, you know what to do.”
To give him a few moments to think about it, she laid the paddle down across his buttocks and used her freed right hand to stroke him. Up and down his back, down to his poor sore buttocks by the way he gasped. She trailed her fingertips over his skin, tracing the bottom of his briefs along his upper thighs. She released his hair, letting him lie back down, while she stroked the backs of his legs. She tickled his knees and now he whimpered.
“God, I love that sound. Almost as much as your growling and snarling.” She dug her nails lightly into that tender skin, and then slid her fingers up to tangle in the curly hair on his thighs. She gave a gentle tug and he whimpered again. But more importantly, he pushed his hips against the bed. Aroused. Needy. Good.
“So? Are you ready for me to quit?”
“No,” he whispered, his face buried against his arms.
“Give me what I want, then. Give me the truth.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” she said firmly. “We’re close to the truth now, Harvey. This is something you need to face. If you don’t, it won’t matter whether Gordon stays or leaves, or if you get the company back, or if you ever decide to sail again. Everything hinges on you facing the truth inside you. You already know it, or you wouldn’t be afraid to look.”
“Help me. Please.”
She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. Those words, so soft, so desperate. They made her want to stretch out on his back and hold him tight. To kiss his trembling lips and stroke his hair out of his eyes so she could see the dark swirl of tears that were probably threatening. “Remember your safeword. There is no failure in trying. If we need to take a break and face it another day, we can.”
“No,” he said more firmly, though he didn’t lift his head. “I want to do this now. Tonight. I’m running out of time.” She thought he meant the party at his aunt’s and his supposed revenge plot, until he said, “You’re leaving in a few days. I can’t—won’t—do this alone.”
Her heart ached, swollen and tender as his backside. She wasn’t supposed to get attached to clients. Let alone the billionaire who didn’t even know why she was here in his house. Guilt strangled her throat, but she couldn’t leave him like this. “You’re not alone, Harvey. I’m here. I’m not going to stop until you come or you give your safeword. All right?”
He nodded, and she picked up the paddle again. She shifted it against her palm until the grip was perfect. Breathing deeply, she centered herself. Then she laid into his ass with the paddle.
He let out a howling yell and flailed his arms across the mattress, looking for something to hold on to. Another time, she’d tie him to a chair or headboard. Some submissives found it easier if they couldn’t move.
Her stomach quivered at what she was about to do. “Three years ago, what happened to you?”
“Car accident,” he gasped as she laid another blow to his opposite cheek. “My parents were killed. Me too, almost.”
“You can’t leave the house. Why is that?”
“I… I don’t know.”
She hit him harder. “Wrong answer. Only you know why.”
“I don’t, I swear!”
Thud, thud. He squirmed and rocked beneath her, his head tossing back and forth across the bed. She didn’t say a word, but kept the heavy pounding steady on his backside.
“Punishing!” He finally wheezed out. “Myself.”
“Yes. You’re punishing yourself. You’ve locked yourself up inside a place that used to be safe. Now it’s your prison. Why did you do that, Harvey?”
“I can’t. Live. I shouldn’t.”
She ran the paddle down his thighs again, each blow harder and heavier than the last. “Life is precious. Why shouldn’t you live?”
“Because they’re dead!” The paddle slammed across the more tender skin just above his knees and he howled again. “I should be dead! Me. Not them. Me!” His entire body shook and he sobbed against the mattress. “It should have been me. Me! I hate myself. It’s my fault.”
She slid off beside him and pulled him up against her. He ended up with his head in her lap and his arms locked around her waist, his shoulders heaving with the force of his sobs. She smoothed his hair and whispered to him. “There, that’s what you’ve been keeping hidden from yourself. That guilt. You’re punishing yourself because you’re still alive. That’s why you’re so angry.”
He pressed his hot, wet cheek to her thigh. “Mom and Dad were in the front. I was in the back. Mom was driving. I’d had too much to drink and I’d already thrown up in the street before they came to get me. I was surprised it was them, instead of Maxwell. They were usually out at some charity dinner or theater show this time of year. Mom was nervous. She kept glancing at me in the mirror, her hands clenched hard on the wheel. Dad kept giving me nervous little smiles over his shoulder. I apologized for the trouble, but they didn’t have anything to say. It was so quiet in the car I could hear Dad breathing and I thought he was going to have a panic attack. I thought they were going to cut me off. Disinherit me. I remember such thick, suffocating shame spreading through me. I’d come home to be with them, to show them how glad I was to be alive after I nearly died in the storm on Knightmare, but I’d screwed that up too. I’d hung out with people who wanted to be my frie
nds, but all they really cared about was the money. That’s all anyone ever cares about in the end. Except for them. And I’d screwed that up too.
“‘You know we love you,’ Mom said, giving me another nervous look in the mirror. I had time to think, ‘Great, here it comes. They’re going to tell me not to come home again. That I’m on my own.’ Then the car in front of us spun out and we slammed into them. Mom jerked the wheel and we spun out too, hit the ditch. I don’t remember much after that, except it felt like I was on a roller coaster. Up and down, upside down. I couldn’t tell where I was. I couldn’t wake up. Until the fire reached me. The firefighters cut me out of the car, but I remember screaming at them no, they should leave me there. I wanted to be with them.”
Tears ran down her cheeks too and she didn’t want to say something and stop the flood of truth coming from him. Until he faced it all, he’d never be able to move on and deal with his grief. Sometimes no words were better than saying the wrong thing, so she kept up the steady, comforting touch.
“When I woke up at the hospital, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. If I hadn’t been trying so hard to fit in, I wouldn’t have drank so much. If I hadn’t drank so much, I wouldn’t have had to call home for a ride. They wouldn’t have been out on the road at all. And then I got mad at Maxwell too, because he was always the one who came to get me. I loved him too, but if I had to lose someone, I would have rather have lost him than both my parents. Then this horrible guilt filled me, that I’d wish someone dead like that. I know he would have understood, and he probably even thought the same thing a time or two. I’m sure he hated me too, because it was my fault they were dead.”
“He would never hate you.” She combed her fingers through his hair, keeping her touch calm and soothing. “Do you think your parents would want you to punish yourself like this?”
He rubbed his face back and forth against her thigh. “No. They loved me. They…” He sighed heavily. “They forgave me for everything I ever did.”
The Billionaire's Christmas Bargain: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 3 Page 14