Reading Her Heart

by Ashlynn Kenzie

  Two hours later, he finished his fourth glass of water and cleared his throat.

  "Why don't you find your cap and sunglasses? We'll walk over to the Sand Castle and get some grilled fish. My treat."

  "Fried shrimp. And we're eating outside. Not near anybody either."

  "Did anyone ever compliment you on your splendid manners and pleasant demeanor?"

  She tossed her head and pointedly refused to answer.

  "Well, there's a reason why not, missy. Now hustle up."

  She flounced, grumbling, back to her bedside and, bending down to reach for the purse she apparently expected to be there, got out her sunglasses and put them on, then marched, straight-backed and still fussing, to her bureau and pulled open the drawer to get out her concealing cap.

  Dinner out was not the pleasant diversion he had hoped for. He finally gave up attempts at conversation. They were home again, enveloped in a strained silence of Andee's design, in less than an hour.

  They put in another two hours back at the kitchen table, but Nick was uncertain how much she was absorbing of the lesson. Even her posture said her frame of mind was combative.

  "Go ahead and tell me what you're upset about," he said finally, "but let me warn you, I won't tolerate disrespectful behavior or another tantrum. There have been quite enough of those today."

  "Oh, really?" There was barely concealed rage in her voice. "Well, you're not the one with glue holding your hand together or patches over your eyes. You're not the one that got treated like a baby in some stupid doctor's office with some idiot nurse jabbing at your bum. It's not you who—" Her voice was rising in pitch and volume and she was half out of her chair, balancing on the table with her good hand and leaning toward him.

  "You're quite right. But I am the one who is holding you responsible for your outrageous behavior over the last twenty-four hours or so. And I'm about half an inch away from teaching you a lesson you won't forget anytime soon, young lady. So I suggest you modify your tone and control your actions."

  She slapped the table half a foot in front of him and then twisted away with a decidedly unattractive sneer on her face to flounce off. "And I suggest you kiss my—"

  Before she could complete the thought or take a first step, he had come to his feet and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides in the process and forcing her over with the weight of his upper body against her shoulder.

  "I'm. Having. None. Of. That," he said, emphasizing each word with a firm swat to her bottom that had her yelping and struggling in his hold. He hauled her upright then and, grasping her shoulders, made her face him while he went on in the low, weighted tone she had already come to associate with serious menace.

  "In fact, little girl, I'm about to show you exactly what happens when you deliberately behave like a spoiled brat. And you can't say I haven't already warned you. So don't bother pretending you don't know you had this coming."

  It took her a moment to realize that while he was lecturing her, Mr. Benjamin had also been unsnapping her jeans and shoving them down to her knees. Then he wheeled her around and marched her the few steps toward her sleeping area, a journey she made on stumbling tiptoe while he grasped her waist with both hands and steadied her, lest she take a tumble. She had just formulated the words of outrage she wanted to utter and found the breath to screech them when he sat down and tumbled her across his lap, her arms flying out to catch the weight of her upper body as she landed on the futon, while her legs jackknifed up toward her back.

  He pushed her feet back in the direction of the floor, and she tried to leverage her body upright, but he laid his arm firmly across her back and pinned her to his lap.

  "The more you fight me, the harder this is going to be. You know you deserve this spanking, so it's in your best interest to take it like a good girl and thank me nicely when I decide you've learned your lesson."

  "Like hell I—"

  "Yes, you certainly will. Especially after that," he said, and set to work, focusing all her attention on her practically virgin bottom, where his broad, hard palm was lighting a fire.

  He peppered her powder blue sheer panties with two dozen sharp, well-spaced and carefully placed smacks before he interrupted her outraged howls with an additional lecture.

  "I did not take this job to babysit a spoiled brat. I've warned you repeatedly about your behavior and already given you a taste of the medicine that you apparently need to get over being a pain in the rear end. But that spoonful clearly wasn't enough to cure you, so you're going to get a bigger dose now, and I can promise you it will be a major pain in your little rear end."

  With that, he hooked a finger in the elastic around her waist and tugged down the nylon concealing her well-rounded charms.

  Andee bucked wildly on his lap and struggled to gain her feet, protesting with squeals and shrieks, but he simply shifted her forward a bit, eased his right leg out from under her weight, and then locked it in place over her calves to help frame the recently bared area bounded at the other end by his left arm.

  Then he clamped his jaw and went to work, putting real sting into the effort.

  The round, pinkened hillocks jiggled enticingly as his palm made repeated contact. He threw preference for pattern aside and spanked randomly, sometimes concentrating on the crown of one cheek, sometimes the outside of the other, sometimes taking both tempting targets into account with solid smacks across the great divide. Finally he moved on to his favorite area and put all his determination into shifting each cheek upwards by turn with well-placed smacks whose purpose was no longer to flatten the target but to make it rise and then tremble alluringly back into place at the top of her white, contrasting thigh. His effort won him outraged howls and then pleas and then—finally—a wail of surrender. When he stopped, it was to swipe his forearm across his glistening brow and, then, to cup the cheeks he had just painted bright pink.

  "That was for the stunt you pulled last night with the whiskey and your little fling this morning."

  He felt her go still, her body tense with expectation, and her voice silent, for once. His tone and his words had adequately conveyed the message that there was more to come, he felt sure from her response. He let her wonder for a moment, then he unlocked her legs and tugged her upright, watching her pull the hem of her T-shirt down to cover the front juncture of her round little thighs before she shifted her attention to her scalded skin. Standing, he grasped her wrists and anchored them at her sides.

  "No rubbing. Certainly not before we're through. And not for a while after that. You need to feel every single twinge until you're determined not to ever need to feel it again. Now, little girl, we're going to deal with your attitude the rest of the day. Would you like to describe it for me?"

  She sniffed and shook her head, eyes toward the floor, hands fisted where he held them so close and yet so far away from offering relief.

  "Then I'll do the honors from my perspective. You may certainly tell me if I'm in error, but I warn you to do it respectfully, and I suspect you may pay a bit more heed to that warning now than when your little rosy bare bottom was lily white and protected. You have been deliberately rude. You have operated on the level of a six-year-old, rather than a grown woman. Plus, you have done your best to twist every effort to assist you into some kind of assault against you. In short, you have behaved abominably, and even your sore hand is not sufficient cause for that. Especially not when the injury was your fault. Agreed?"

  "I guess," she whispered in a tiny voice, wincing as she considered just how her self-pitying attitude had played out.

  "Then I'm sure you'll agree that you deserve what's coming. So let's get it over with." He let go her arms and grasped her shoulders again, moving her forward in a half circle until she was standing behind the chair. "Bend over," he said ominously. "Hands on the seat, and don't make the mistake of reaching back or standing up until I tell you to."

  She turned to him and opened her mouth to protest, but then she snapped he
r chin upward and hid her face between her outstretched arms. His wide leather belt schwicked out of the loops, and she moaned and bent her knees in a vain effort to protect his target.

  "Straighten your legs and get your heinie up," he ordered, calmly doubling the length of supple leather and grasping the buckle and tongue in his right palm. "It's up to you how many licks this takes. Penitence wins you good girl points. Resistance runs up your naughty tab. Do you understand me?"

  Her voice held a sob when she answered, "Yes," and then added a quivery, "Sir."

  He stretched the doubled length of leather with a menacing little pop, considering whether she was ready for this next step, and then rested his right hand against the small of her back where it curved over the low chair. Her back tensed when the strip of cool leather caressed stinging nether cheeks. The dark divide narrowed as she tried to draw into herself, but then, little by little, she not only relaxed beneath his hand but managed to dip her abdomen more into the cushioned back of the furniture so that her bottom reached toward his belt. It was a reaction he knew would not last when she tasted the leather's hot flavor, but it confirmed that he had judged her needs accurately.

  Chapter Ten

  He smiled and withdrew his hand, taking with it the tender touch of the belt. In its place, he ran a warm palm across the summit of each cheek and then placed his left hand, fingers splayed, across her bent spine. Tightening his jaw again, he swept his arm back and up, and then down and across, to kiss her deserving flesh.

  Her knees buckled as she gasped and jerked her head up, but she held her place. He stroked her again with the strap's lashing length.

  He had painted six scarlet stripes across an already deep pink landscape before she began to cry, ten before she begged him to stop. An even dozen brought on short, sharp expressions of her agony and impressive twists of the area he was targeting, accented with knee bends and the lifting of first one foot and then the other.

  "It hurts," she moaned.

  "Then it's doing what I meant for it to."

  "B-but, I'm s-sorry."

  "Good to know."

  "Stop! Pl-pl-please," she wailed, trying desperately to turn the target away from him.

  He let the belt lie against her swollen rounds for a moment.

  "If you're truly sorry, hold your little bottom still and ask me for the rest of what you deserve. One at a time."

  She considered for a moment, her body trembling with suppressed sobs beneath his left hand.

  "How m-many?" she asked, pitifully.

  "That remains to be seen. Ask until I tell you we're through."

  He granted her another full minute of silence before he felt her push her spine a little deeper into the chair, raising her bottom into prime spanking territory once again.

  "Please spank my b-bottom, Sir," she whimpered.

  He grinned, his suspicion confirmed that she had probably run that phrase—a staple punitive exercise in at least three-quarters of the spanking novels ever written—through her imagination with longing dozens of times before, so that she knew precisely what to say. But rehearsing it with no chance of response, and repeating it after one experience with reality, were two very different things. Andee expressed her surprise at the difference with a very long and pitiful wail when he obliged her.

  He required her vocal cooperation five more times and rewarded her efforts with the sharpest licks yet before he dropped the belt over the arm of the chair, saying quietly as he gently stroked her flaming orbs, "That's enough, sweet girl. That's quite enough."

  She pushed up and flung herself toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head in his chest. "I'm s-sorry. I'm s-so sorry," she sobbed, her voice quavering.

  "It's all right now, sweetheart. Shhh, baby. You're my good girl now, aren't you? You took your spanking well. I'm proud of you. Here, let's pull your panties up, but go ahead and kick those jeans off. I don't think you'll want to go through what it will take to get them back in place."

  When he had eased the nylon gently back over her blistered bottom, she managed to free her feet from the confines of the denim and slide the jeans away. Then he picked her up and took the steps necessary to fit her on his lap as he sank down on the futon, her bottom scooted back from direct contact with his thighs. He cradled her head against his shoulder and supported her back with his strong left arm while he reached across her body and patted her backside soothingly.

  Mr. Benjamin hummed a little song near her ear, and she felt safer and more content than she could ever remember feeling in her life.

  "How long c-can I st-stay here?" she hiccoughed into his neck.

  "In my lap? As long as you need to, little one. Although it might be a good idea to change position every month or two, just so we don't begin to meld into each other."

  She managed a small chuckle. "I can only st-stay until S-September. I h-have to get a job then."

  He hugged her hard for a moment, paying her small joke the compliment of a chuckle. Then they sat in silence for a while, until finally she stirred and pushed away a little.

  "I'm getting cold and I'm really tired, but I don't want to be alone."

  "Then you won't be. I'll step outside while you change clothes and then we'll take care of your drops and I'll tuck you in. I'll make a bed here on the floor beside you. I've got an inflatable mattress in my trunk, just in case I'm ever invited to stay over at a friend's house."

  "You would stay. R-really?" she asked, her voice still interrupted occasionally by the aftermath of her tears.

  "I would stay. Just tonight. Just because. Now, teeth brushed and jammies on while I wrestle the mattress out of the car. Let me know when you want me back in unless you change your mind."

  "I have some extra sheets and a pillow on the top shelf in the closet," she offered. "They're clean. I promise."

  She stood up gingerly and moved to a chest of drawers in the far corner of the room. He grimaced when he saw the dark pink sheen still visible through her panties and noticed the slightly raised line running across the base of her left cheek where the elastic had ridden up enough to let a little curve of baby fat escape. But he would do it all over again, he told himself. Because she needed it.

  *****

  Andee found shelter in the cramped, dark bathroom once again and got rid of her T-shirt and socks, then slipped on a mid-thigh-length sleep shirt. She thought it was the one printed with pink and blue teddy bears, but since that one was a twin in style to the garment with gold unicorns skipping through clouds, she wasn't certain. Not that it mattered. There was no sexy sleepwear in her drawer from which to choose, so she might as well go for comfort.

  Suddenly the enormity of what was about to happen hit her forcefully, and she collapsed on the cold, unforgiving lid of the toilet. But she didn't stay there long. With a moan of anguish and a delicate exploration of her aching backside with both hands, she thought first about what had already taken place.

  Tracy Topping apparently knew her stuff, since many of her scenes mimicked the experience Andee had just been through very closely. Except there were no words to adequately describe the way her mind and heart refused to settle on an opinion about the whole thing.

  One moment, she was so horrified to have displayed her bare bottom to Mr. Benjamin she could hardly stand the idea. And then to know he had not only looked, he had touched, with both the harshness of discipline and the tenderness of concern. And it wasn't as though she had been a statue of stone throughout the episode. Oh, no. She had bucked and squirmed and jiggled and wiggled and twisted and turned and clenched and who knew what else. He must, she thought, have been either horrified or intensely amused by it all. And then there was the noise she made with her crying and her pleading and, finally, her mortified obedience.

  Any normal woman would have been so thoroughly humiliated by it all, she would have shoved him out the door and prayed never to see or hear from him again. But she—she had clung to him for ages and then practically begged
him not to leave her. Had almost burst into fresh tears of gratitude when he promised to bed down for the night within arm's reach.

  And now, in spite of what he had done to her, she was feeling not only a profound sense of peace and safety but an increasing excitement. She was finally, it seemed, going to see his face, to really know this man who was making such a difference in her life, this man who was—trite as it sounded—making her dreams come true and meeting all her needs.

  She tried to sort out the veracity of that dramatic assumption, standing slumped over the sink in the tiny bathroom, and found it couldn't be labeled one hundred percent accurate. He wasn't, after all, supplying her with a job, or giving her back her mother, or swearing undying love and devotion. He was just… just… making her feel so right about her life, as though it might turn out okay after all. She might not only be accepted for who and what she really was, but aided in improving that image.

  So the opposing view was that she was eternally grateful to have merited his attention even in the painful form it took. If only she could hold on to him and the security and assistance he offered.

  The one more official week allotted was not going to be nearly enough for what she needed from Mr. Nicholas Benjamin, she admitted to herself. But who knew what might happen after that?

  Suddenly aware that she had spent far too much time in contemplation, she brushed her teeth and washed her face and took care of pre-bed concerns and then tiptoed back into the main room of her apartment, as though her very quietness would prevent the spell he had created from breaking.

  When she opened the door, she heard him inhale deeply right away, and then he stepped close enough to brush her hair back from her face.

  "I was getting worried about you. Are you okay?" he asked quietly as she stepped back to welcome him in.

  "Oh, yes. I am. Just not too anxious to sit down, you know," she explained with a rueful smile. She shut and locked the door behind him. "Are you—I mean, do you still feel—or can you ever…" She was twisting her fingers anxiously.