by Sadey Quinn
I shower and put on fresh clothes. When I go back outside, Ryan is getting up to leave, and Rachel looks positively anguished.
“Taking off?”
“Yeah. Got a date.”
“Do I know her?”
“Nope. Her name is Amy. Cute girl. I was just telling Rachel about her.”
I wish him luck and give him a hug. He kisses Rachel on the cheek and lets himself out. Rachel and I stand quietly, looking at each other, for a few long moments. I try to make my expression as unreadable as possible until I hear the front door slam. Then I slowly turn my lips into a huge grin.
Rachel shrieks and sprints out into the yard. I burst out laughing as I run after her. She’s got nothing to be afraid of and she should know that. As she gets to the fence, she turns around to look at me. I slow down to a jog, anticipating that she’ll try to dodge me and run back toward the house.
She bites her lip in a totally sexy way. As she dives to the right to slip by me, I jump out and catch her waist in my hands. In one solid motion, I scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder.
I’ve always wanted to do this to a girl. Rachel’s perfect for it.
She starts pounding on my back, but she’s not hitting hard. “Let me down! I can walk, I promise!”
“You can also run,” I muse. “Wouldn’t want that.”
Inside, I walk straight to the bedroom. She tenses at the end of the hallway and I know what she’s thinking. Across from the bedroom is the discipline room. But today, I don’t want to cause her pain.
I’m going to show her some amazing pleasure.
I gently set her down on the bed and whisper, “Don’t move. I’m not going to hurt you, sweetie.”
“You said you were going to spank me.”
“I am.”
“And how—”
I cut her off with a stern look and push her back to lay down on the bed. Slowly, I straddle her and lean forward to give her the most gentle kiss I can muster. I want her to calm down before I heat her up. As I kiss her, I touch her, running my hand up her shirt, over her stomach, up along the edges of her breasts. She moans as I reach under her to unhook her bra.
“Trust me, baby?” I ask as I break away. Her bra is tricky and I can’t kiss and unhook it all at once.
“Yes,” she whispers. Her face is flushed. She’s going to love this.
I sit her up and pull off her shirt and her bra. Her breasts are perfect, round and supple, and I lean down to kiss each of her nipples. They’re already excited and hard. I put my ear against her chest and listen to her heartbeat. It’s fast.
“You’re so fucking hot, Rachel,” I say, moving up to kiss her hard. Our tongues dance and as I hold her wrists with one hand, I reach down to slip a hand under her skirt. Through her panties, even, I can tell she’s wet.
Her skirt must have a zipper somewhere, but I can’t find it. I pull away from her mouth again, peck her nose, and sit up to study the damn thing. “This skirt is a puzzle. How the hell do I get it off?” I ask, turning her this way and that, making her giggle.
“Here.” She rolls over and points to the waistline of the skirt, just below her tailbone. There’s a panel of fabric over it, concealing it. This skirt was not designed by a straight man.
“Mmm, perfect.” I smile to myself. As I unzip it, she raises her hips a little, letting me lower it over her legs and feet. I throw it to the floor, pushing off her shoes as well.
She stays put on her stomach, looking back at me shyly. I admire her unabashedly while she waits for me to continue. Her legs are so perfect, leading up to her exquisite ass. I trail my fingers along her calves, up her inner thighs, until I’m between her legs.
“Do you want me to touch you?” I ask.
She whimpers in a cute way and nods her head.
“Then ask me to give you a little spanking.” I continue touching her, so close to her sex, and she parts her legs a little.
“But David,” she says, her voice a little whiny. I frown at her and she clamps her mouth shut.
Later, she’ll understand what an erotic spanking is. She’ll look forward to them. She’ll beg me to spank her. Now, though, I want her to be nervous. It’s part of the fun.
“Please spank me,” she finally whispers. Then she throws her face into the pillow and I know she’s embarrassed.
Smiling to myself, I lie sideways beside her, below her breasts, and give her ass five quick, light slaps. She groans, but I know I didn’t hurt her. Then, I run my hand between her legs, swirl my fingers around her clit through her panties, and, just as quickly, remove my hand.
Rachel whimpers. I spank her a few more times before repeating the exact same thing. I pull her panties aside, giving me access to her, and she whispers, “Take them off, please.”
“Good girl,” I say, rewarding her with a few more slaps. I yank them down, over her feet, and throw them next to her skirt. She’s lying there, practically panting, and I’m wondering how I’m going to stop myself from taking her too quickly.
I really, really, want her to enjoy this.
I decide a position change is in order. “Sit up, sweetie,” I say, tugging her up to kneel beside me. Then, I take my spot at the head of the bed, my back against the headboard. Patting my lap, I give her a look. She knows what I want, crawls over to me, and puts herself over my lap.
She really is a good girl.
I give her ten swats before touching her again. Looking down at her, over my lap, is intense. I know she can feel me against her stomach and I’m hoping that some of the wiggling she’s doing is intentional, for my benefit. I look at her head, but she’s hiding her face. Her arousal, though, is obvious. When I slide my hand in between her legs once again, she lets out a moan—guttural and beautiful at once.
“Not all spankings have to be for discipline,” I say, swatting her again. “Are you enjoying this?”
She nods her head and the back of her neck turns a sweet shade of red. She’s too shy to admit she’s loving this.
I rub her behind for awhile, spanking her now and again, until she starts gyrating her hips against my legs. That is too fucking much for me. I flip her off my lap, onto her back, with her head at the foot of my bed. I take off my jeans as fast as I can.
“You’re mine,” I say as I position myself in between her legs. “Understand?”
She nods as I slide inside of her, making her groan.
“Good girl.” I look into her eyes and she locks her gaze in mine as we make love. When I feel her getting close, when her moans get louder, I thrust deep and hard. I look down at her intensely and she cries out louder than ever before. She’s explosive around me, and I can’t hold back anymore. We climax together. It’s magnificent.
I roll off her, taking hold of her hand, and catch my breath. I’m a bit stunned. When I turn to look at her, she’s gazing at me. I touch her cheek and give her a soft smile.
“I liked that,” she says.
My heart throbs with joy. “Me too, baby.”
~7~
Rachel
In the morning, the sun wakes me before my alarm. I roll over, feeling peaceful and content. Normally I’d be annoyed with myself for forgetting to shut the drapes, but I’m well-rested and happy to see light pouring in through our window. David’s already up—of course—and I grab his pillow and snuggle it, breathing in deeply, inhaling his scent.
Last night was incredible.
I feel like a bit of a prude for not considering that spankings could be part of my sex life. I mean, I’ve heard of people doing it. Samantha once had a boyfriend who loved to be spanked before they had sex. She sort of shrugged like it was no big deal, though I couldn’t imagine being okay with something like that.
I’ve noticed I feel closer to David after he spanks me. After he punishes me, I’m not necessarily aroused. But I do feel something. Maybe it’s something like arousal.
I decide not to over-think things—something David has suggested a few times since I moved in—and p
ull myself out of bed. After a quick rinse in the shower, I wander out to the kitchen and find him humming happily as he whisks some eggs in a small glass bowl.
“Hey, beautiful.” He kisses my forehead. “Breakfast?”
“Sure.” I pour myself coffee and top David off before sitting down at the counter to watch him work. One of my favorite things to do is watch him cook. He’s so good at it, and so good looking. He’s still got on his pjs—blue flannel pants and a grey t-shirt—and his hair is messy-looking. It’s sexy.
He pauses often to shoot glances my way, and I find myself smiling like a goofball each time. Our dirty little secret just got a little dirtier. I love that it’s something private, between him and me and no one else on earth.
He sets our plates of food on the counter and sits down beside me.
“So, do you feel weird about enjoying a spanking when other spankings are used to make you feel pain?” He’s digging into his eggs like he’s famished. I spear a cube of cantaloupe, a serious blush reddening my cheeks.
I nod. David’s so direct. It would have taken me at least a full minute of explaining my thoughts to be able to tell him exactly what he just said: I feel weird.
“Confused at all?”
“I don’t know.” I move my eggs around on my plate with my fork. “I guess a little. But the two things are different, right? I just feel strange, like I might get…”
Pausing, I take a sip of coffee and a bite of toast. He nudges me.
“Like you might get…?”
“Well, what if a real spanking turns me on?”
“It could happen.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
He shrugs. “Not necessarily. And I have some things I can do to make sure you don’t enjoy your punishments.”
I wince, and he gives my shoulder a little squeeze.
“Just remember, with us, the lines between erotic spankings and discipline spankings are blurry. It’s not cut and dry. There are couples who have sex after every spanking, there are others who keep sex and spanking completely separate, and there are some who enjoy erotic spankings exclusively. And there are others, like us, who practice a combination. It doesn’t have to make perfect sense to make us happy.”
“I like that.”
“Good girl.”
I finish my breakfast while he cleans up. It’s amazing how David can take something so complicated and reduce it to make it simple. He’s right, and I know it. This doesn’t have to make sense to make us happy.
Samantha and I have started a weekly tradition of getting together on Sundays. Usually we meet for breakfast, but today I’m meeting her in the afternoon at a craft store downtown so I can look for something new to learn this month—one of David’s rules.
Of course, I didn’t tell Samantha I was doing it because of David’s requirements. Sam just thinks I’m in the mood to be crafty. Which is ridiculous, since I’ve never been crafty in my life.
On my way out, I hug David goodbye and his face turns all serious, which makes me immediately concerned I’ve done something wrong.
“Hon, can I ask you a big favor?”
“Sure.”
“Will you talk with Aria tomorrow?”
I frown, and David looks apologetic.
“Listen, I’ve checked in with her and she claims she’s doing fine. She even scheduled another session for next week. But, you know the dynamics of your workplace better than I do. You know that jackass she’s working for. Just…make sure she’s doing okay?”
I let out a long, dramatic sigh and get a warning look from David.
“Sure. I’ll check in with her,” I agree begrudgingly.
“Thank you, babe.” He kisses me, and I feel his sincerity and warmth on his lips. I know I’d do almost anything he asked of me. Even if it’s annoying, like talking with Aria.
By the time Sam gets to the store, I’ve already decided the skill I want to learn this month is knitting. I’m leafing through a copy of Stitchin’ Bitch, deciding to pick out the simplest project possible, when I hear her bustling in through the door.
Samantha is great at loud entrances.
“Hey! There you are!” she exclaims, rushing toward me. She has coffee in one hand and a large bag from Urban Outfitters in the other. “Sorry I’m late. Seriously, the line at the store was a mile long. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”
“No. We can go somewhere after I pick out some yarn.”
“Yarn?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna learn how to knit.”
Samantha raises her eyebrows, dubious, but doesn’t say anything about knitting. Instead she launches into a one-sided dialouge raving about how amazing and awesome Patrick is.
She says awesome exactly eleven times.
I’m happy for her. I haven’t seen her this vibrant in awhile. But honestly, I’m only sort of listening as she talks. I pick out a pattern from the book—a long scarf I can knit for David—and I turn to the gigantic rack of yarns.
After some consideration and absolutely zero help from Sam, I choose dark blue and chocolate brown for colors. The brown will bring out his gorgeous eyes.
“…and oh my gosh, so yesterday we went hiking with his awesome friend, Jake. Jake is so gorgeous, Rachel, you would not believe it. If you weren’t with David I would totally be setting you up…”
Sam follows, still talking, to the counter so I can make my purchase. I love it when she gets excited like this, even if it’s a little overwhelming.
“You a knitter?” asks the woman behind the counter. She’s got large purple plugs in her ears and her hair is jet-black with neon pink highlights.
“Um, no,” I admit.
“Which project are you gonna do?” Her tone is disinterested, making me wonder why she’s asking.
“The scarf.” I pick up the book and find the page, showing it to her.
She looks through my supplies, then walks out from behind the counter to the knitting shelves without saying a word. I look at Sam, who’s watching this, and she shrugs.
A few moments later, the woman is back.
“So, you picked out the right sizes, but these needles will be easier for you to use at first,” she explains in the same monotonous tone. “They cost the same. It’s up to you. And then your yarn wasn’t right for a beginner. Here’s the kind you need. Same colors.”
“Wow. Thanks,” I say, reviewing the items she’s picked out.
“A lot of beginners start with that book. It’s good. If you want help, we do a knitting group every Thursday afternoon.”
Samantha snorts and I discreetly kick her leg.
“Thank you.” I grab the bag from her and usher Sam out before she starts laughing.
We decide on a cafe for a late lunch. I’m aching to share some of my thoughts on David and Aria and his stupid profession, but I’m just not sure how.
Then I remember how casual David was when he explained to Mitchell why I felt upset. I decide to try the same angle with Samantha.
“So, you know my awful secretary?”
“Yeah. You fired her. You told me already.”
“Except I didn’t fire her, exactly. She’s still at the company, she just got reassigned.”
“Ugh, some other poor soul got stuck with her? Why did they let her stick around?”
Jeremy’s face pops into my head. “That’s a story for another day. But get this: she’s one of David’s clients.”
“Seriously? That sucks.”
“Yeah. And he’s asked me to check in with her at work.”
Sam’s jaw drops in shock and something—validation?—swirls in my gut.
“Weird. That seems…I don’t know. Like a breach of confidentiality or something.”
“Well, I found out about her accidentally. She sort of showed up unannounced the other night. She didn’t even know David and I are together, let alone shacking up.”
“Awkward!” Sam squeals.
“That’s the understatement of the year!”
/>
Sam reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. This is exactly what I needed. I realize that this situation only has to be weird if I choose to make it weird.
“So what’re you going to do?”
I sigh. “Talk to her, I guess.”
“You totally don’t have to do it, you know. You don’t have to do whatever he tells you to do.”
“I know. It was a request from him, not an order.”
“Still. Doesn’t he get that it would be awkward for you?.”
“Yeah…but on some level, it’s become a professional thing for him. Like I’m an extension of his service now. David worries about his clients a lot. And Aria’s working for Jeremy now—”
“No!”
I can’t help but laugh at Sam’s response. I’ve told her all of my office gossip, the trials and tribulations of working at Lakeside Advertising.
“Yeah. And David feels like I kinda owe it to her to make sure she’s OK. So…I’ll check in. It’s just strange.”
“Agreed. Well, Jeremy can only enjoy the eye-candy for so long before her ineptitude actually starts to matter, right? She won’t last long with him, either. You waited far too long to get rid of her.”
I remember how David was able to find a way to see the good in her, despite her flaws. His kindness. I wonder how much Sam is right, and how much she’s telling me what she thinks I want to hear.
I wonder how much I’ve really changed since I’ve met David if I let myself agree with her.
“Anyway. New secretary’s a vast improvement.”
“Yeah?” Sam perks up, maybe at the thought of a new topic of gossip. “How is she working out? Or he? Details, s’il vous plaît!”
I explain to Sam about my choices: What’s-his-name, the male version of Aria on the hotness scale, who made me wonder if he’d be equally inept, and Terry, forty-two, five years experience as a receptionist at a health clinic, smeary mascara and no waist or ankles to speak of, but damn. She’s organized.
“As much as I wanted to hire the hottie, he really wasn’t the best choice.”