by Measha Stone
"Nothing we did was casual." He felt a grin tugging at his lips, but managed to contain himself.
"You know what I mean."
"How many men have you slept with?" He wanted to kick himself. There were better ways to bring up the subject than to just blurt out the question.
"Counting you?" Her eyes met his only for a moment before she refocused on his chin. He knew he should correct her, make her look at him properly, but he wanted to get through this part of their conversation first. He had a nagging suspicion he wanted confirmed. He nodded when she didn't continue. "Counting you? Two." She spoke so softly he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. Two? Meaning him and her ex? Two!
"Jonathan was your first?" Dumb question. "How long were you two together?"
"Seven years. We met in college." Her cheeks blushed, the tip of her nose more than the rest of her face. He wanted to kiss her there. "It's not because of him. I didn't freak out because of him."
"You two were together a long time." He noted more to himself. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to suggest this weekend. Maybe it would have been better to send her on her way.
"At first I was devastated because I lost him. But the more I went through it, the more I realized it wasn't him I was mourning. It was the idea. We were together a long time. He was comfortable. But," she sighed, "he didn't like who I was." Her blush deepened, and she wouldn't even look in his direction.
Knowing he wasn't going to like the answer, he pushed anyway. "What do you mean?"
"After he left, I was looking through his office. His computer was still logged on, and I saw some emails."
Shit. "What did they say?" His imagination could answer that question, but he needed to know how much that ass-hat had damaged her.
"Just stuff like I had no mind of my own, that I was always underfoot doing things for him, very June Cleaver." She looked out the window, but he could see the tears lingering there. That fucker.
"You were trying to get him to dominate. Asking him what he liked you to wear? What he thought about your clothes, that sort of thing." She turned to him with her lips parted. He'd been right. "By underfoot he meant you made his coffee, liked to prepare his meals the way he liked, kept your house neat for him?" He was an asshole. This conversation was making his dick hard again for her as the image of her bringing him his coffee lingered in his mind.
"I didn't know it at the time, but yeah I think so. I think it got worse when Royce and Jessica started dating. I saw how their dynamic played out, I mean he's not controlling like that, Jessica wouldn't stand for it, but I saw the little signs between them. The subtle way he'd keep her from drinking too much, or stop her from berating Kelly for some stupid screw up."
"I didn't think you knew about them."
She snorted. "None of them do. They think I'm too sheltered, too weak to understand or something. I don't know. But I'm not blind. I didn't know the terminology, but I guess I'd been trying to make Jonathan into something he wasn't. And he didn't like what I was, so there you go." She worried at her lower lip.
He watched her for a moment in silence. How could anyone think this woman before him was anything but strong? "Come here." He pushed back from the table and patted his legs.
Two brown eyebrows rose in question. "Don't make me tell you again." He lowered his voice, and she moved to obey. He guided her leg over his, until she was straddling him. "Put your hands on the chair back and don't take them off. No matter what happens, if you're in pain or you feel fucking awesome, you don't move those hands. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," she whispered and did as he instructed.
"Look at me. You've taken quite a few liberties this morning." Her eyes found his immediately, and he saw the worry in them. "First, Jonathan never would have been able to fulfill the needs you have. I think you see that now. I'm sorry it happened the way it did, but I think it at least brought out your true self." She nodded. "You like service, taking care of your dominant. A lot of dominants love that. Don't try to change that or anything else about yourself."
"I wouldn't. Not for anyone," she said with more heat than he'd expected from her at that moment. "If I had known this about myself, or rather had allowed myself to explore it, Jonathan and I wouldn't have been together so long. I can't change for anyone. I have to be me." A small part of him wished her friends could see her at that moment. Straddling his lap, obeying his commands, and not showing one ounce of weakness. He wasn't oblivious though. There was still a vulnerability to her.
He placed his palms on her bare knees. "Now about running away." Her smooth skin beckoned him as he slid his hands up her thighs. "I do not tolerate hiding, and you knew that." He brushed his fingertips over her bare stomach, feeling the twitch of her muscles at the tickle.
"I'm sorry." Through lowered lids, she maintained eye contact.
"Mm hm." With featherlike strokes, he brushed the underside of her breasts. Her eyes widened. She gasped at the flick of his finger over her peaked nipples. Another flick and another. Her eyes didn't move, her hands stayed in place, but she had sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. "Good girl." Another flick, harder this time, then he captured them between his fingers. "Such a good girl." He reached up and kissed her chin. "Never run away from me again." He increased the pressure and the grimace she blessed him with made his dick twitch beneath her. "If you have a worry, you tell me. That's how this works. You don't get to keep them and work them out on your own anymore. You give them over. Do you understand?"
A fervent nod. "Yes, sir!" The chair creaked behind him, beneath her clenched fingers. He released her nipples but kept them under his palms, rolling them around.
"Now, about you leaving the room without permission."
CHAPTER TEN
Shit! She had hoped he forgot about that little mistake. When she had recovered enough control and reentered the bedroom, she'd been glad he had left. She didn't want to face him. He wouldn't let that go. He'd expect her to explain, and that she did not want to do. Most men would have loved to not have to address her feelings. Jonathan sure as hell never would have bothered to find out what was wrong once she assured him she was fine. Bradley wasn't Jonathan. Bradley wasn't like any man she'd ever known.
She just needed to separate herself from him, and keep her feelings from growing any more than they already had. This was a weekend. Just a little fling. She'd go home tomorrow, and everything would go back to normal. She'd figure out what to do with the house, she'd go to work, and next weekend she'd try out Top Floor on her own. Maybe Bradley would introduce her to a few men that were safe. The idea of meeting someone else, of him handing her over made her stomach turn. No, she'd have to make a clean break, and try to forget him.
At the moment there was no forgetting him though. His fingers tightened around her breasts, squeezing them until discomfort turned into pain. "I'm sorry, sir." She wanted to look away and close her eyes. "You were gone and—"
"And you thought that when I told you not to leave the room without permission it didn't apply because I'd left the room?" His nails dug into her flesh, and she sucked in long breath. His eyes dilated, he loved this, loved seeing her uncomfortable.
"No, I mean, I guess." Where the hell was her mind? "I thought you'd be mad at me." She couldn't help but tell him the truth. "I thought I'd just come down—" She sagged when he let go of her breasts. The burn lingered.
"You thought I'd send you home now?"
Did he know how psychic he was? He should start a booth at the State Fair, make a few bucks. "I wasn't sure," she answered, arching her back, pushing her chest toward him. She wanted more of his touch, more heat from his fingers.
"Erin, when you disobey there are consequences. I wouldn't toss you out because of it. It's my job to correct and mold."
"Mold? Like make me something I'm not?" Hadn't they already discussed how she wasn't going to change for anyone? Had he changed his mind?
"No. Like train you to be the person you want to be, the person you are, ju
st more." His eyes darkened, but his hands didn't move, they rested on her thighs. "What do you think would have happened if you had married Jonathan?"
She thought for a minute and shook her head. "It wouldn't have lasted." His fingers trailed down to the inside of her thighs, but she focused on her answer. "He would have eventually done what he did, or I would have realized that I couldn't be me with him. There was always something more I wanted, I just didn't know what it was."
"Keep talking. What was it?" One finger circled her clit, and she jumped at the spark of electricity it caused. "Focus."
"I wanted him to be more in control. I hated when he couldn't seem to make a decision, he'd just cow to me. He couldn't even decide—mm—what he wanted to for dinner. Ah." She wiggled on his lap as his fingers began to trail down her slit, opening her lips and rimming her entrance.
"Good." He kissed her chin, then her lips. Soft pecks, not enough to satisfy her cravings. One finger pushed into her. "Now, about your disobedience. What do you think needs to be done?" Another finger entered her, as his mouth closed over her nipple. How could he ask her something like that while he continued to cloud her mind with all sorts of desires and fantasies? "Answer me." He pulled the jersey up and bit down on the exposed nipple, sending a shockwave of pain through her breast.
"I don't know." She breathed out. "I guess, a punishment?"
"Does the idea of me punishing you turn you on?" He licked her taut nipple. "You like the idea of your man taking you to task for being a naughty girl?"
"Oh, god." She gripped the chair tighter as his fingers moved in and out of her, his palm brushing her clit.
"I'll take that as a yes." He grinned. "What sort of punishment, do you think?"
She winced at that question. She couldn't think. It was one thing to agree to a punishment, it was entirely different to sentence herself. "Whatever you think is right?" She put the ball back in his court.
He laughed. "No, that would be too easy."
She tried to ignore his skilled fingers. "A spanking?" She'd never been spanked before. Not as a child, and sure as hell not as an adult. It looked painful, but she'd also fantasized about them enough to wonder if it would be as erotic as she thought.
"A spanking. Simple punishment. I was hoping to spank you today anyway, but I wanted it to be enjoyable. If I spank you now, you won't enjoy it. I promise you that. I'm not easy and begging me to stop won't work. I'll spank you until I think you're sorry. Not when you say you are, but when I believe you are." His fingers disappeared, and she couldn't help the disappointed sigh. "You have to agree to that, I won't do it without your agreement."
"If I don't?"
"Then we spend the day relaxing and watching a movie." She searched his gaze, he meant it. He wouldn't touch her again, and she wanted him to touch her again. And again. And again.
"Do you want to punish me?" The question came out soft. She hadn't meant to whisper it, but she was never very good at hiding her feelings. Especially when he continued to look at her with such intensity, such ownership. No matter her thoughts on being punished, she didn't want to be a pity case.
"If you were mine, really mine, you wouldn't have lasted this long without being punished. I wouldn't have allowed you to lock yourself in the bathroom. I would have dragged you out of the shower and taken my belt to you right that moment. For leaving the bedroom without permission, I would take away all of your privileges. No clothes, no phone or computer, nothing."
She swallowed hard. His eyes told her he was being honest, and if she were to be the same, she'd have to admit his firmness turned her on like nothing else. "All of that?" She tried for a smile but was sure she failed.
"I'm not an easy man. If you disobey, there are consequences. You aren't mine, not fully, but for this weekend you are. You disobeyed. Yes, I want to punish you." He took her nipples between his fingers again, applying only half the pressure of before. "Now, answer me."
"Yes." She nodded. If only she could close her legs, maybe he wouldn't know how wet his words just made her. She'd read plenty of accountings from submissive women who said punishments helped wipe away their guilt for their transgression, but she didn't really feel any guilt. What she had done—running away—was rude, but like he said she wasn't really his. Maybe if she were truly his submissive, then she'd feel worse about being disobedient. At the moment, she only felt the twinge of remorse at having to spend the moments dealing with a punishment instead of eating her breakfast. But if the spanking turned her on half as much as the idea of it did, she wouldn't regret any of it.
"Go get me a wooden spoon from the kitchen." He helped her to slide off his lap, giving her a slap to her ass as she walked away. A wooden spoon? It didn't sound very sexy. It sounded more like a kinky version of I Love Lucy. She padded her way across the ceramic tiles to the drawer where she'd found the other utensils. Feeling his eyes on her, she chanced a look up at him. His lips had thinned in her absence, his hands still rested in his lap, but tension could be seen in his shoulders. "I don't like waiting, Erin."
She went back to her search and found one that appeared to be sturdy enough not to break, but not thick enough to hurt overly much. Spoon clutched in hand, she headed back over to him. He'd pushed his chair back from the table and held out his hand. Placing the spoon in his hand, she stepped back half an inch. Now that he was armed, she wasn't as sure about the entire thing.
"You don't look like a woman about to be punished." He mused. "You look like a woman who's never been punished before, but has always craved it. So much so that you've romanticized it." The tapping of the spoon against his palm distracted her, but his sharp tone brought her back around. "Is that right?"
She watched the spoon hit his palm again and again. "Maybe." Honesty, her only weapon.
He chuckled. "Well, I can promise you, after this not only will you never lock yourself in the bathroom, but you'll never view a punishment in an erotic way again." He spread his legs a little and gestured for her to lay over his lap. "Over my knee." He waved his hand when she didn't move.
Gently he helped her over his lap. She placed her hands on the cool flooring, her toes barely touching the ground on the other side of his legs. Such a sight she must be! The jersey slid up, exposing her ass to him, although she doubted he would have allowed it to remain covering her for very long. She should have looked harder for her bag. If she had her panties on, she wouldn't feel so exposed. He may have already seen her naked ass, but not laid out over his lap waiting for a spanking.
The spoon rested against her bare flesh, and she tensed. She wished he had picked something else for her punishment. He must have noticed it, because he ran the spoon across her ass. "Shh. We are just going to talk a minute."
Talk? Hadn't they done that already? How much more talking did he need to do?
"Tell me why you're here."
Did he mean over his lap or in his house? Unsure of herself she decided to go with the here and now. "Because I ran away from you and locked myself in the bathroom. And I left the bedroom without permission." Her voice sounded deeper. Probably because she was upside down, and talking to the air beneath his chair.
"Why did you run into the bathroom?"
"I don't know." Her lie earned her a sharp swat. She clenched and let out loud breath. "Because I didn't want to talk about it, and you would have seen in my eyes something wasn't right." She closed her eyes, grateful that she could, and tried to forget for a moment that she was draped over his lap like a naughty schoolgirl.
"Why didn't you want to talk about it?"
Didn't they already go over all of this? "Because." She hissed when the spoon landed another stinging swat. Then he soothed it away with light touches.
"What did I just tell you about hiding?"
Another sharp slap, and another. She was breathing heavy, wishing she could sit up for this talk. "I, we aren't, I mean, after tomorrow, this all ends." She let out her biggest worry. It would be over. She'd go back to her suburban home a
nd job, and he'd go back to playing at his club with any number of women at his disposal. True submissive women who knew what they were doing, and what they wanted.
"When you came to the club, when you told me about your breakup and about your desire to learn more about yourself, did I toss you out? Did I tell you to go find Alex and let him deal with you, or did I offer to help?"
He had a point, but it wasn't the same thing. It wasn't that he wouldn't help, it was that he couldn't. They were a temporary thing, not long term. He couldn't fix that.
"You offered to help, sir." She sighed. This was not like her dreams. There was no fondling, or groping.
"So the next time you start to feel overwhelmed with fear, or sadness, what should you do?"
The discussion over one little reaction seemed so disproportional. "Tell you about it."
"Yes. And why?"
She wished he would just start spanking her now. It had to hurt less than this continual investigation into her psyche. "Because my worries aren't just mine anymore."
"That's right." His fingers stroked the back of her thighs. "When you keep your worries from me, you tell me you don't trust me to take care of you. You show disrespect to me by trying to take care of it yourself. You show me that you aren't submitting to my rule, my authority and protection."
Well damn. He had a good point there. She had done just that. Suddenly, she didn't feel so confident that the rest of the punishment was going to go well. A sour feeling began to build in her chest.
"And leaving the room when you were told not to unless you had permission. What do you think that said?"
"That I don't respect your rules." She sniffled. Hanging over his lap was making her nose drip. Again, less sexy than previously thought.
"Did you agree to submit to my rules when you came home with me last night?" The spoon ran over her thighs. "I can't hear your head shake." His voice darkened.