Her Old-Fashioned Boss

by Laylah Roberts

God that sounded so great. With a shudder, she buried her head against his shoulder and just basked in the safety of his arms.

  “We’re here for you, baby. Whatever you need.”

  “Thank you. Right now, I just need a hug. Hold me, please?”

  “Always.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nerves pounded through her stomach. Her friends were due for dinner in an hour and she wanted everything to be perfect. It was so important to her that they like Roarke and Sam. They’d met each other a few times, but she wanted them all to get along. Her friends were like her family, but Roarke and Sam were everything.

  The smell of something burning hit her nostrils and Ava cried out in dismay as she jumped for the range. “Oh no, the dessert!”

  As she opened up the door, her eyes watered at the gust of hot air which assaulted her. Quickly grabbing up a couple of dish towels, she scooped the tray of brownies out. Swinging round, she put them down on the bench. Horrified, she looked on as the large bowl of chicken salad teetered on the edge of the bench, knocked forward by the tray.

  Jumping, she knew she’d be too late. The bowl slammed to the ground, spaghetti and chicken flying everywhere.

  “Oh no, oh no,” she cried out, falling to her knees.

  “What is it? What's wrong?” Sam asked as he raced into the kitchen

  “My salad! Dinner is ruined!”

  “What's happened? I heard yelling. Are you guys all right?” Roarke appeared, his face tense and pale. He eased slightly as he saw the two of them. Stepping over to Ava, he peered down at the salad. “Baby, are you okay? Have you hurt yourself?”

  “My salad is ruined,” she told him pitifully. “I don't have time to make more.”

  He clasped her face in his hands. “Shh, it’s just a salad. It will be fine.”

  “No, it won't. It's ruined. I just wanted things to be perfect.”

  “Everything will be fine.”

  “No, it won't,” she repeated stubbornly. “My first dinner party and I can't even get the food right. I wanted them to like you. I want you to like them.”

  “I don't think chicken salad will have much to do with us liking each other,” Sam told her reasonably. She glared over at him and he wiped the smile off his face. “And anyway, we already like each other.”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  “Okay, enough of this,” Roarke said firmly. “You've been stressing yourself out over this for the last week. You're exhausted and you need to calm down.”

  “Why don’t we just order something in? Maybe some Thai?”

  “I guess,” she said, feeling embarrassed over her reaction. Talk about making a big deal over nothing.

  “Tell you what, why don’t you go and order us some dinner then sit down for a bit,” Roarke suggested.

  “But the mess—”

  “We’ll clean it up,” he reassured her, turning her towards the door.

  “I’ve got to whip the cream for the brownies, Roarke,” she complained.

  Roarke simply stared at her. “Little one, you will go sit down, take a deep breath then order dinner. Understand me?”

  She took a breath. “Yes, Sir.”

  In the end everything went better than she'd expected. Roarke and Sam had charmed her friends. Nobody commented on the fact that they had Thai instead of the chicken salad they'd been promised, although Asia had given her a sharp look when she'd given herself a tiny portion. That look had turned to one of approval when Sam had proceeded to grab her plate and add a few more things to it.

  “I am exhausted,” she groaned when her friends had gone. She slumped on the sofa. Sam started tidying up.

  “Leave that, I'll do it,” she insisted. “I just need a few minutes.” Hours, days...

  Sam snorted. “I don't think so, sweets. The only thing left for you to do tonight is go get ready for bed.

  “My friends, my mess,” she said, forcing her eyes open and reaching for a plate. Roarke had sent her friends home with Max and he was now checking that the house was locked and secure, something he did every night.

  Sam grabbed her hands before she could reach anything. “You’re tired. Go to bed.”

  “Okay,” she yawned. Sam stood her up and turning her, gave her a spank to the butt. “I'll be in soon.”

  “Sir, yes, Sir.”

  Another solid whack, this one with more force, sent her scampering on her way.

  *****

  “Oh for God’s sake!” Ava dumped the cake into the rubbish bin, her chest heaving as tears threatened. “Stop it, stop it, stop it. You are so dumb, so stupid, so pathetic!”

  “Ava!”

  She turned at Sam’s voice, surprised by the sternness in it.

  “What?” she snapped.

  His eyes widened and she instantly felt guilty, but she was too far gone to pull her temper back now.

  She grabbed some muffins she’d just baked and moved to the bin to throw them in with the cake.

  The plate was suddenly taken from her hand and placed on the table. She swooped around, placing her hands on her hips. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Sam glared back at her. “Watch your language.”

  “No, if I want to fucking swear then I’ll fucking swear. What ya going to do about it?” Part of her was absolutely horrified by what she was doing. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t this bratty, horrid child.

  A low moan erupted from her. “God, Sam, I’m so sorry. Just leave me alone, I’m so awful and pathetic and—”

  “Stop now, Ava.”

  “Horrible, stupid—”

  “Ava, last warning, stop now or I’ll stop you.”

  She didn’t bother heeding the warning in her voice and instead started slamming her hand against the kitchen table.

  “Dumb, dumb, dumb—ahh,” she screeched as she found herself upended. She hadn’t even seen Sam move, but suddenly she found herself lying face down on his lap as he sat on a kitchen chair.

  He pushed her skirt up, his hands pushing down her panties before he started spanking her.

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  “Sam!” she cried out, kicking her feet as she tried to wiggle free. “What are you doing?”

  Sam had never spanked her seriously before. He always left that to Roarke. He held her easily, his hand soon turning her butt into a swollen mass of misery. Damn, he was way too good at this.

  “I don’t ever, ever want to hear you talking about yourself that way, do you understand?” he said, not letting up. Each spank of his hand fired her buttocks. He moved down to her thighs, laying into them as strongly as he had her ass. Ava simply lay over his knee, crying, no fight left in her at all.

  “If you’re feeling overwhelmed or you’re having bad thoughts about yourself then what are you supposed to do?”

  “G-go t-to you or R-roarke,” she sobbed.

  “That’s right. You are not supposed to try and cope by yourself. You are not stupid or pathetic or any of those horrible things you just said. Now tell me why you didn’t come for us?”

  “R-Roarke’s in a meeting,” she sniffled.

  He gave her another couple of smacks. “And what about me?”

  Ava was silent for a long moment.

  “Did you not think I could handle it, Ava? Is that it? Did you think I wasn’t strong enough to take control?”

  She could feel the hurt in his voice and it made her feel sick.

  “I’m s-sorry,” she said, her voice husky with tears. “If it makes a difference I know you are now.”

  “Damn straight.” He landed five more hard spanks on her bottom, making her cry out. Then he flipped her over, holding her close. “God, baby. Don’t do this again. You have to come to us. Did you spit any of this up?”

  She shook her head. “I wanted to, though. I’m having a bad day, and then I had to do all this baking and I knew I was going to stuff something into my mouth sooner or later so I threw the cake in the rubbish. Then I felt so bad, that, well, I umm got mad at
myself and you saw the results.”

  Sam took a deep breath. “You go back to the therapist next week right?”

  Ava nodded. She liked her therapist, but she still found it really hard to talk to her about all of this. The therapist had made her go right back to talking about her darkest days, which was hard because that time was a bit of a blur. She couldn’t really remember much of it. Each session left her exhausted and drained.

  Sam and Roarke usually accompanied her, sitting in the waiting room. But this last time they weren’t able to come and she’d felt particularly vulnerable afterwards. They always held her on the way home then cared for her when they got back, either tucking her into bed or in front of the television for a while.

  She guessed she kind of missed that this last time. But she couldn’t tell them that. They did so much for her already, she should be able to handle these sessions without breaking down, without needing them there, holding her hand. She should be strong enough not to rely on them so much.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said miserably. “I should be better than this. I’m just a burden. You shouldn’t have to put up with this. All you guys do is help and support me and then I go around acting like a spoilt brat.”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, rocking her. “Don’t for one minute think that you don’t give us back as much as we give you. When Roarke had a headache the other day, who gave him a massage? And two weeks ago on the anniversary of my mother’s death, who held me all night?”

  “I know, but that’s so small in comparison to how you guys have turned your life upside down to help me.”

  “But honey, that’s what people who love each other do. They’re here for each other, good times and bad. But you need to tell us when things are bad, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hush, now. I want you to go to Roarke now. You need his help.”

  “I’ll just clean up here.”

  “No, you won’t,” he said firmly. “You’ll go now.”

  “He’s with someone.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You need him. And you always come first.”

  Roarke frowned as a timid knock sounded on the door.

  “Sorry, Dylan,” he said to his club manager. “It must be important. Come in,” he called out.

  Ava entered, her head low, shoulders slumped and his stomach dropped. Poor little one, she looked so sad.

  “Hello, Ava, come in,” he said gently, but his voice held a firm note, sensing how close she was to running off.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” she said quietly as she shut the door and walked forward. “Sam said it would be okay.”

  Roarke held out his hand. “It’s fine. Dylan doesn’t mind, do you?” His voice warned that Dylan had better not mind.

  “Not at all,” Dylan said warmly. “How are you, Ava?”

  “All right, thank you.”

  It was obvious to both of them that she wasn’t.

  “Ava,” Roarke warned. “Look at me.” She glanced up and his heart nearly broke at the misery in her red, puffy eyes. She’d been crying, hurting.

  “Go and get a cushion from the sofa.”

  She turned away slowly, wincing slightly. His eyes narrowed. She was moving stiffly, like she’d hurt herself. Or had her butt spanked.

  Hmm.

  Returning with the cushion, she kept her eyes lowered. Roarke dropped the cushion beside his feet.

  “Sit, little one.”

  When she was comfortable, he drew her head onto his thigh and ran his hand over her head in a way he knew she found soothing.

  “Now, Dylan, where were we?”

  The rest of the conversation only took fifteen minutes before Dylan took his leave.

  “Don’t get up,” he said to Roarke. “I’ll show myself out.” The other man gazed down at Ava in concern, but didn’t say anything more.

  Although he hadn’t taken her to the club yet, she’d made plenty of friends among the staff, especially the subs. In fact, she was supposed to be baking a cake for Tara’s birthday right now.

  “How’d the cake come out?” he asked. Tara was gluten intolerant, so Ava had been worried about how the cake would turn out.

  She stiffened against him. “Not good. I threw it in the bin.”

  “What was wrong with it?” he asked.

  She sniffled slightly. “Nothing. I just got angry and threw it out.”

  He didn’t say a word, just continued to run his hand over her head.

  “I thought to myself, just try a bit of cake or a cookie or pastry then spit it out. It-it just kept going around and around in my head until I got mad and I started yelling and I threw the cake into the garbage and now everything is a mess and it’s my fault,” she sobbed.

  “Shh, little one,” he said, scooping her up into his lap. “Shh, now. Nothing is broken, it can all be fixed. We’ll go buy Tara a cake. What I’m worried about right now is you. How long have you been feeling bad?”

  She wiped her cheeks like a little girl. His heart clenched. She was so beautiful and it hurt him that she couldn’t always see that. He wished she could see herself through his eyes, then she’d know just how precious she was. “Since my session with the therapist yesterday afternoon.”

  Roarke tilted her chin up. “And so why haven’t you said anything until now?”

  Eyes filled with misery looked up at him. “I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want you to get sick of having me rely on you. I should be able to go to my therapist without you or Sam holding my hand.”

  Ahh, so that was it. Truthfully, he’d been uncomfortable about letting her go alone and it seemed he should have listened to his gut. His little one was a creature of routine. She didn’t like change much.

  Well, in future, he’d have to make sure he or Sam went with her, it was obvious she needed the support afterwards to help with her healing. The therapist had explained that things might get worse before they got better, but they hadn’t experienced that so far.

  Perhaps this was the turning point.

  “So you think you’re weak by turning to one of us for support? You thought Sam was weak the other week when he needed help through the anniversary of his mother’s death? That he should have handled that alone?”

  “No! No,” she said. “Sam’s already talked to me about this. I know I was wrong not to come to you or him.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Believe me, he made that point very clear.”

  Roarke raised his brows. Interesting.

  “He spanked you.”

  She sighed. “He objected to the things I was saying about myself.”

  “And those were?”

  Roarke listened without comment as she described what had happened, although his guts were tied in knots. Thank God Sam had been there.

  “Okay, a couple of things,” Roarke said when she finished. “One, you owe Sam an apology.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Two, you are to interrupt me or Sam no matter what we are doing, understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Three, from now on one of us will accompany you to your sessions until we all feel comfortable with letting you go alone.”

  “But, Roarke—”

  “Who is in charge right now?” he asked, knowing he sounded harsh, but he wanted no misunderstanding. This was too important.

  “You are, Sir.”

  “So I want no arguing, understood? You’ve just had your butt blistered, I wouldn’t think you’d be looking for another spanking so soon.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Good girl. I love you, baby. I just want to help you. I want you well.”

  “I know, Sir. I love you too. May I go work out, Sir?” she asked.

  “Don’t you have an afternoon tea to organize?”

  Her gaze went off into the distance. “I don’t feel like it.”

  “Look at me, little one,” he ordered calmly. She turned to him.

  “You can do this. It’s just afternoon tea. Sam will be th
ere to help. They’re your friends, they expect you there.”

  Well, that is one miserable looking face. Clearly, she needed something else to think about.

  “I want you to find Sam and send him in here then you are to go up to the playroom and bring me down one of your plugs, a medium sized one, and some lube.”

  He pulled her off his lap and lifted her skirt. A bright, sore looking bottom greeted him. It was slightly more rounded now, due to the attention he and Sam paid to her diet.

  “No underwear?”

  “Sam wouldn’t give them back,” she told him.

  “Good man.” He patted her firmly on the backside, ignoring her protest. “Go on. You have five minutes.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, hurrying off.

  Sam appeared in the doorway a minute later. Roarke gestured him forward and taking him in his arms, hugged him tight. “You did well. Thank you.”

  “She worries me,” Sam whispered. “Can you imagine how hard this was on her when she was fighting this without us?”

  “Yes. And these problems have festered and lingered. Remember the therapist said things would get worse before they could get better?”

  Sam relaxed slightly. “You think this is what is happening?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s a good thing, even though I know it’s hard to see her like this and to be so hard on her when you just want to hold her and love her.”

  “Spanking her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

  “She needs to know we’re here for her and that we won’t bend when things get tough or hard.”

  Sam nodded. “I know. I just don’t like seeing her so upset.”

  “Neither do I. I think we need to watch her closely for a while, she’s feeling pretty vulnerable. We also need to ensure that one of us takes her to the therapist. We put her in a routine without realizing it then suddenly pulled that out from under her without warning.”

  “Fuck,” Sam said with feeling.

  “Exactly.”

  They both turned as the door opened and Ava stepped through, blushing slightly.

  “Put that stuff down on the sofa. Now what do you have to say to Sam?” Roarke asked her.

  Ava dropped the plug and lube on the sofa and came towards Sam, clasping his hands in hers. “Sam, I’m sorry I was so awful to you.”