Designed for Submission (Devine Designs)

by Maggie Ryan

  ''Two minutes,'' she heard and moaned. She dug underneath the sink before slamming the doors closed. She was out of breath when she spotted her bread machine. Shrieking again, she snatched the heavy breadboard and raced down the hall, running directly into the muscular chest of her Dom. ''He … here …'' she panted, bent over slightly, as she tried to catch her breath.

  Logan hefted the heavy board in his hand and crooked his eyebrow. ''Sweetheart,'' he said, and she looked up at him. ''I might use this on some guy if I was into that, but this is way too much for your little ass.''

  Elizabeth was torn: pleasure that Logan felt she had a little butt and panic that he would finish dressing, go inform Jason that he had a naughty Sub just waiting for a good spanking, and could he please borrow a paddle. She grabbed the board and raced back into the kitchen.

  ''One minute left,'' he called, loving this game and thinking he would definitely send her on various hunts again. Hearing this board was too heavy had given Elizabeth an idea. She tossed the board onto the couch as she turned to face the shelves that held her books and various items she had collected. She stood on her tiptoes and stretched.

  ''Ten seconds,'' she heard, and she yelled. ''Logan! Help me!''

  Logan raced down the hall, thinking she had hurt herself. He was almost to the kitchen when she squealed again. ''I … I can't reach it.'' He whipped around and saw her standing with one foot on the arm of the couch, the other actually on one of the shelves of the bookcase. She was attempting to reach something that was still several inches over her head. In three large strides he had his hands around her waist and grabbed her off her perch. Without a moment's pause, he bent her over his thigh and slapped her bottom hard and fast with the palm of his hand.

  ''Owww!'' she squealed, as his hand pelted her bottom. ''Stop! Stop! I … I found it!''

  ''Don't you ever,'' he said, as he smacked her again, ''Ever, ever do that again!'' His heart was pounding at the thought of her falling and hitting her head on something. He set her back on her feet.

  Her hands flew behind her to rub frantically at her bottom. ''Owww,'' she said, again. ''I … I just couldn't …'' She stopped, seeing his face, realizing that she had frightened him. ''I'm sorry,'' she said. ''I … I know that was stupid.'' He nodded and relaxed a bit, his heart slowing.

  She pointed up and asked, ''Would that work?''

  He turned to look where she was pointing. On the top shelf there was what looked like an old wooden box. He looked back at her as if she were crazy. ''This?'' he said, easily reaching up and touching it.

  ''Yes!'' she said, smiling broadly.

  He didn't understand her excitement but shrugged and lifted the box from the shelf. Feeling its weight, he again thought of it falling on her and shook his head.

  She saw the look. ''I promise I won't ever do that again, I swear!'' she quickly promised.

  ''Okay,'' he said, believing her. ''Elizabeth, why in the hell do you think I am going to paddle you with this box?'' he asked, turning to hand it to her.

  She giggled and shook her head. ''It's not a box, Sir,'' she said, as she set it onto the trunk. ''It's an antique butter mold.''

  Logan still had no idea what she was talking about. Elizabeth looked at him and smiled before lifting the top that covered a smaller base. ''You would put the butter you churned into here and then take this,'' she said removing a smaller piece from inside the lid, ''and smooth out the butter. Then you would …''

  ''Oh, I get it now,'' he interrupted, seeing the small piece was indeed a wooden paddle. He reached and took it from her. It was small but it would most definitely work.

  ''Good job, Schatzlein even if you did make me lose ten years of my life trying to get it down.''

  She turned to him and put her hands on her hips. ''Don't you want to know the rest?'' she asked, as if shocked he didn't want to hear a lecture about colonial butter-making. He chuckled at the sight of her nude, her hair disheveled, her hands on her hips.

  ''No, Elizabeth,'' he said. ''What I want is you in your room, on your bed, your ass over those two pillows,'' he said, and saw her eyes widen. He paused for a heartbeat before speaking his final word: ''Now.''

  She fled down the hall, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floors. Logan dropped onto the couch, his face buried in his hands, laughing. He had been in many different situations with many different Submissives waiting to be disciplined, but God, never before had it included a scavenger hunt and a small scrap of a woman feeling so triumphant in producing her own antique butter paddle. He stayed on the couch until he had himself under control. He might love the little minx, but he still had to paddle her ass for disobedience. He stood, took a few deep breaths and then slowly walked down the hall.

  Chapter 17

  There was no talking when he entered her bedroom the second time. She had confessed her infractions and he had expressed that she was to be paddled. He walked to the bed where she was once again over the pillows, her bottom lifted. Logan stepped closer and put one knee on the bed and placed his left hand on the small of her back. His heart swelled when she reached back, her hand opening, her silent plea instantly understood. He offered her his hand and once their fingers were linked, he pressed their joined hands back to the small of her back. He laid the small paddle against her bottom and felt her draw in a deep breath and then slowly release it.

  He felt her let go of her tension and saw her bottom soften and round. He lifted the paddle and began. Elizabeth sucked in her breath as the first swats were delivered. She hadn't realized how much the little paddle would truly sting. After a dozen swats, she began to squirm a bit, but Logan simply pressed their joined hands a bit harder into her back, stilling her movements.

  The second dozen was applied, and she began to whimper, her eyes filling as the burn increased. Logan was paddling her steadily, his swats delivered in a regular tempo. When he changed his rhythm, applying a few fast swats and then delivering the next few at a slower rate, Elizabeth began to moan. Logan knew she was no stranger to the paddle and yet he instinctively knew she also had not truly been punished by one. By the time he allowed her up, she would know beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly what a paddling for discipline meant.

  ''Relax your bottom, Elizabeth,'' Logan said, after another round. ''I want you to submit to your discipline and accept it as the lesson it is.'' She moaned, but when he smacked the paddle into the tender area where her bottom met her thighs, she cried out sharply but then forced herself to do as he ordered. Logan waited until her bottom was once more loose and relaxed.

  ''Good girl,'' he said. ''You are doing well, Elizabeth.'' He began to paddle her with much more force. Elizabeth had thought he was swatting her hard before but discovered those were simply taps. As he covered every inch of her bottom with the paddle, she began to kick up her legs, squirming despite his hold.

  ''Pl … please … please … no … no more,'' she begged, certain her ass would erupt into flames at any moment.

  ''We are not done here; in fact, we've barely begun,'' he said, knowing he was only now beginning to breach her determination to remain silent. He continued, the swats turning her bottom a deeper red with every round. He moved the paddle to swat again against the tender area where her bottom met her thighs. Elizabeth had never felt anything like the crisp, quick swats as they bit into her sit-spot. It felt as if a hundred hornets were stinging her simultaneously.

  As the paddle continued to punish her sit-spot, she bucked hard. ''Ahhh ... no … please, Sir, it … it hurts!'' she cried, and then finally threw her head back and shrieked as he laid the paddle hard and fast onto the very same spot six times in a row. The burn was intensified a hundred-fold before he moved to a spot adjacent to the one he had just punished and repeated the pattern. She arched and wiggled, begging him to stop. ''No… it burns … it's too much!'' she screamed, and then, realizing that she had really screamed, she froze for a moment. Logan knew if he stopped she would believe he thought she was involved in something deprave
d, something to be ashamed of. He knew he was causing her pain: her red, hot bottom served as a testament to why she'd screamed. He also knew that pain would be temporary, but if he stopped, the pain in her heart might never heal. He steeled himself and continued, moving the paddle to smack against the backs of her thighs. She immediately bucked, her frozen limbs again struggling to accept what she needed, and craved, deep inside.

  ''This is punishment, Elizabeth,'' Logan said firmly. ''It is supposed to hurt. It is supposed to burn. It would be rather pointless and a total waste of time if I thought you considered this anything less than it is.'' He paddled another spot. ''This is discipline, and, young lady, this is what you can anticipate every time you are insolent.'' He paused to let his words sink in as he moved to the next spot, and then the next. ''Or disrespectful, snotty, or just plain naughty.'' Through it all, he kept spanking, and then ended the paddling with a flurry of quick, hard swats all across her bottom until she was limp over the pillows, submitting completely.

  Logan tossed the paddle onto the bed and pulled her off the pillows and into his arms. She clung to him, her tears running down her face, her sobs echoing in the room. She wailed as he lifted her and put her on his lap, her hot bottom contacting the fabric of his pants. He put one hand on the back of her head, pressing her into him as he gently rocked her in his arms. His heart hated to see her in pain, but he knew this was exactly what she needed. She cried as if she had been beaten instead of just paddled, and he knew the walls inside her were beginning to crack. He prayed they would one day disappear. He didn't speak, but held her, letting her know she was safe. Her sobs began to quiet, though it was another several minutes before she was only sniffling and hiccupping. He slowly stroked his hand down the length of her hair, soothing her with each pass.

  Liz finally took several deep breaths and relaxed into him. She knew she looked like a mess but didn't care. She turned her head from his chest to look up at him. ''I'm sorry,'' she said, her voice soft. ''Thank you, Sir.''

  Logan bent and kissed her gently. She felt tears well again but knew they were from relief and release of tension. ''It's over, Schatzlein,'' he said. ''You did very well, and I'm so very proud of you.''

  She flushed, knowing he wasn't talking about her taking a rather intense paddling; after all, he knew she actually craved them at times. He was speaking of her letting him hear—not just stifled cries and moans—but her full-throated wails and pleas for mercy.

  ''Thank you,'' she said. ''May … may I go clean … clean up?''

  He nodded and let her off his lap. She walked towards the door and he stood and gently took her arm before she stepped through. ''I'd like you to wear this,'' he said, handing her his shirt. ''When you are ready, we can talk.''

  She took the shirt and nodded, fresh tears threatening to fall. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. She sank to the floor, her knees drawn up, her shoulders shaking as she began to sob.

  Logan didn't wait. He heard her and immediately tried to open the door. She was leaning against it. ''Elizabeth, honey, move … let me in,'' he said. He was prepared to break the door down, but he immediately felt the resistance disappear. He pushed the door open and saw her at the sink, the shirt dangling from her fingers. She looked up and seemed so incredibly small and lost.

  ''Oh, honey,'' he said, and had her back in his arms, her own around his neck, as she began to cry all over again. Logan held her tight, hating that he had let her go so quickly. She had realized that she had allowed him to hear, and he made sure she knew he treasured that gift. It was affecting her, though, on such a deeper level that he truly hadn't been prepared. He kept her close as he quickly filled the tub and as he struggled out of his pants, using only one hand, her arms refusing to release him. Before the tub was even nearly full, he stepped in and sank down, her body curled on his lap, her head against his heart.

  He kept murmuring soothing, nonsense words as the tub filled. He turned off the water and leaned against the back of the tub, holding her close. The water began to cool before she seemed to become aware of her surroundings. She opened her eyes and sighed deeply, her entire body aching from the tension.

  He smiled down at her when she lifted her eyes. Her lips trembled but she gradually returned the smile. ''Better?'' he asked, bending down to kiss her forehead. She sighed again, nodding.

  ''Thank you,'' she said, ''for … for everything.'' He kissed her forehead again and then the tip of her nose. She surprised them both with a short giggle. He grinned, began at her forehead, then her nose and then her left cheek. He repeated the process twice more until his lips settled onto hers. She kissed him back passionately, as if to tell him something. He finally broke the kiss when he felt his cock stirring. He wanted her desperately, but knew this was not the time.

  ''I really screamed, didn't I?'' she asked. He nodded. She paused and continued. ''No one came to pound on the door, did they?'' He cocked his head to the side, as if listening to see if the door was being beaten on.

  ''No, honey, no one came,'' he said, softly. She smiled.

  ''No one cares if I make noise, do they?'' she asked, as if it was an amazing concept.

  Logan smiled and then shook his head. ''I care, Schatzlein,'' he said. ''I care because it told me you are learning to trust me. Sweetheart, you are finding your way to be free of the past. You have taken only the first of many steps, but, Elizabeth, you are making the journey.''

  She didn't speak for several minutes but then nodded. ''Yes, Sir, I believe I am,'' she said, her smile much brighter, much stronger. ''I can promise you one more thing,'' she said, as she looked up at him, her eyes seeming to sparkle with her thought. ''If that paddling was a true example of what I can expect when you punish me, I promise you'll hear me scream every time.''

  He pressed her close, kissing the top of her head. ''I will treasure your promise, Elizabeth, for I know it as the true gift it is.'' She lifted her face to accept his searing kiss. Logan turned her to face him, her knees straddling his thighs. She moaned as she felt him enter her, filling her completely. He guided her to slowly move up and down on his cock; she groaned loudly as his hands cupped her scalded bottom. They made love without words, her head thrown back as he showed her how naughty little girls who had accepted their discipline were also shown total love and forgiveness. Water sloshed around them, overflowing onto the floor, as their movements quickened until they reached the pinnacle of ecstasy together, their lips fused together, their sounds of passion being given and accepted in the quiet of the room.

  After several minutes, Logan heard her speak. ''Sir?'' she asked, and he allowed her to sit back a bit. ''Can we get out now? I'm getting cold.''

  He nodded and stood to help her from the tub. He wrapped her in a towel and briskly rubbed her down. He rubbed the wet ends of her hair. ''Let's get you dressed,'' he said, bending to pull the stopper from the tub. She picked up the discarded shirt and began to pull it on. Logan thought it sweet, remembering he had asked her to wear it.

  ''No, honey,'' he said. ''You need something warmer.''

  She shook her head and began to button the shirt.

  ''Please, Sir,'' she said, ''I want to wear this … unless you need it?''

  Logan shook his head, pulled on his pants and then took her hand and led her back to the bedroom. ''You can wear the shirt, but I want you into some sweatpants and socks,'' he said, and she obediently dressed. She felt much warmer in the fleece pajama pants, the fabric soft and loose against her tender bottom. He watched as she pulled her hair back and clipped it at the base of her neck.

  An hour later, they had eaten the omelets he prepared and had another two cups of coffee. She realized she felt more peaceful than she had in years. They cleaned up the kitchen together and she giggled when he passed her the breadboard.

  ''You know, after last night and today I will never think of this kitchen the same way again,'' she said. He grinned, knowing it was true. When he took her hand, to return to the living room, she pulled him dow
n the hall, instead. She remembered her promise to show him her dream. Logan remembered, as well, but was not going to remind her; she'd had a rather traumatic start to her day.

  She opened the door and turned on the light. He entered and listened for the next two hours as she shared her dream. When she closed the last binder, she seemed to get nervous. Logan had been sitting on a small couch, his long legs out in front of him, his ankles crossed, as he discovered just how talented and how ambitious his little Sub was.

  ''This is absolutely incredible,'' he said, when she looked at him. He stood and walked to the wall, taking his time to look closer at each drawing. ''What a fantastic idea! God, I can't believe someone hasn't already done this. I can assure you that your hotel will be a success. Hell, I could probably give you enough names to fill every room for a year.'' Elizabeth gaped at him. It was one thing to dream and design and even plan. It was another to hear someone who knew about business sound not only impressed, but excited.

  ''Do you really think I can do this? The loan officer at the bank thinks it is a risk. I mean, they are going to help me, but not until I come up with more money,'' she said, coming to stand by him.

  In answer, he picked her up and twirled her around. ''Not only can you, Elizabeth Adams,'' he said, ''you absolutely must.''

  She laughed and clung to his neck. ''Would you help me?'' she said, and before he could answer, she placed a finger against his lips. ''Let me clarify that,'' she said, with a smile. ''I mean, let me bounce ideas off you and maybe give me some tips? I mean, you are a man,'' she said, and giggled, "… a very, very sexy man and also a wonderful Dom who happens to own the sexiest club in Houston. I would love to have an additional male outlook. Jason has volunteered to help when I'm ready. He's already going to be my accountant. I have so many ideas, and Nancy wants to be even more involved. She has some very great ideas.''