by Quinn, Sadey
“But we’ll ease into it. OK?”
“I don’t even know what you’re asking me.”
“I’m asking you to date me.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know you.”
Frowning, I take a sip of my wine but realize my glass is empty. David notices this and jumps up to refill it.
“Tell me that you’ll try it,” he says, sitting back down in his chair.
“We’ve kissed twice, David. Hardly enough for me to say, ‘Sure, let’s go steady.’”
It is David’s turn to frown and he looks slightly embarrassed. “I know. It’s just that I need to tell you where I’m at before we move further. Before we move anywhere at all. Do you think you can let me be in charge? Can you try it?”
I sit back and stare out into his enormous backyard. Sparky has found his spot near us and is sleeping. He’s moving his legs ever so slightly, and almost baring his teeth, so I can tell he is dreaming of running for prey. A breeze moves past us and I shiver a little.
Can I try it? I think I can. As strange as it is to think about giving up control, the idea is appealing. I barely know David, but I feel like I trust him.
“Maybe,” I whisper. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to warm up.
“Time to move inside,” David announces. He gets up and grabs my plate and his and goes in without another word.
I’m confused but in an odd way I’m not. So he wants to spank me. Big deal. He’s already done it, after all. I can live through it. And the feeling I have when he touches me is incredible, unbelievable. He’s right about the relief I felt when I submitted to the first spanking. I touch my butt through my dress as I follow him inside, remembering the first spank of the paddle against my naked skin.
He’s in the kitchen, washing dishes and carefully stacking them in a rack to dry.
“More wine?” he asks.
“No, thanks.”
He finishes up while I watch and then he’s facing me, his body inches from mine, looking down at me with his insanely sexy brown eyes. “For now, I want you to forget about what we talked about,” he tells me, kissing me lightly on the forehead, his words brushing against me as though he is blowing on my skin.
I can only nod in response and he smiles again, his confidence shining strong.
“Don’t forget about tomorrow, though,” he says and he’s got my hand again and he’s leading me down the hall. My heart skips a beat. The last time he led me down this hallway we went to the discipline room and I pray that is not where he’s going.
“What about tomorrow?” I ask. I breathe a sigh of relief as he pauses and opens the door on the right side of the hall.
“Your second session.”
Oh, no. My anxiety returns and I’m thinking about tomorrow and also the fact that I am in David Jacob’s bedroom. When he takes me in his arms and kisses me my nervousness melts away. I relax and let myself enjoy.
~8~
David
She’s sleeping so peacefully but I’ve been awake for nearly an hour, watching her and thinking. I’m wondering if it could work. The warm light of the sunrise is pouring into the room. As much as I want to curl up with her and fall back asleep, I know it’s not possible. I haven’t slept past dawn in years.
Her eyes are moving under her eyelids. She's so cute.
“What are you dreaming of?” I whisper. I kiss her forehead lightly and get up, pulling on my boxers as I head to the kitchen to put on coffee.
I check my e-mail and there’s a note from Marilyn asking how my date went last night. Fairly well, I think to myself, recalling how amazing it had been to sleep with her. Rachel has an innocence about her, a quality not many of my lovers have had. She will be fun to explore. If she lets me explore her, that is.
I write a quick note back saying things went fine and yes, let’s meet for lunch tomorrow. Then I feed Sparky and pour a cup of coffee. I’ll try to read a book until Rachel gets up.
I know I’m going to be spanking her today and I’m worried about it. She’ll either run or she’ll stay. I need her to stay because I’m falling for her and it’s so hard to imagine having to let her go.
You barely know her, David, I remind myself. But I feel as though I know her and I’m not sure why. I can’t explain the connection and it’s got me slightly confused and flustered. I’m not used to this feeling.
When I’m re-reading the first page in my book for the fourth time I hear the toilet flush and know she’s up. A few minutes later she appears. Her hair is sexy because it’s all messed up from sleeping and making love. She’s wearing my blue Knicks t-shirt which falls down to her upper thighs.
“Hey,” she says shyly.
“Hey, sexy,” I say. “Come here.”
I set my book down and pull her down into my lap, snuggling her and kissing her hard.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask, needlessly because I know she slept like a rock.
“Great. I feel… great.”
We sit like that, in silence. I feel great too, and I think great is a great word to describe what’s happening. I tell her that and she giggles. Her stomach rumbles and she blushes.
“Breakfast?” I ask.
“That’d be… great,” she says with a grin.
I pour her coffee and orange juice and get to work on some scrambled eggs while she sits on top of the counter and watches me. When I pull the metal spatula out of the drawer beside her I slide it under her butt and she squeals and laughs. I take that moment to gently push her legs apart and I stand in between them, right up next to her, and look down into her eyes with my sternest expression.
“Remember what we talked about yesterday?” I ask.
“We talked about a lot of things yesterday.”
“About having another session, Rachel.”
She tries to look away but I don’t let her. I cup her chin in my hand and place my other hand on the small of her back, holding her close to me. I’ve got you, baby, I think to myself.
“We’ll have breakfast, first. Then you can have a shower and relax for an hour or so. After that, we’ll take care of your discipline.”
“David, I don’t know—”
“Shh. Can you trust me on this?” Please, please trust me, Rachel. This is it. The uncertainty in her eyes is obvious and I am silently pleading with her but I keep my expression stern and my hold on her firm.
“OK,” she whispers.
My entire body relaxes and I’m flooded with relief. I’m immensely proud of her. As my body is relaxing, I feel hers has tensed and I give her a little peck on the forehead. “You’ll be all right, sweetie. Understand?”
She nods and I know we’re in for a quiet breakfast, but that’s fine. I want her to be thinking about the session and I want her to get into the right frame of mind. I lift her up off the counter and onto her feet. “Can you put our drinks on the dining table?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is so soft now. I want to spend the morning hugging her and comforting her, but I know we both need this. I’ve got to establish our relationship dynamic. What’s more, I need to spank her as a lover, not as a professional. It will be different and we both need to understand it. First hand experience is the only way.
I spoon eggs onto two plates, grab toast from the toaster, and join her.
She’s quiet, pensive, and I am too. My entire mind is focused on her and her alone. I revel in this feeling. The anticipation is so much worse for her than it is for me and I like imagining what exactly she might be thinking. Is she thinking about the pain? The embarrassment? Is she trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she slept with just last night is pressuring her into accepting discipline?
I clear our plates and send Rachel off to shower. When I hear the water turn off I give her a few minutes before joining her in my bedroom. She’s sitting at the edge of the bed, with my bathrobe wrapped around her body, her hair damp and sticking to her neck. She looks incredibly sad and I sit down next to her, put my ar
m around her and squeeze her tight.
She starts to cry.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says, sniffling.
“Think about it.” I speak firmly. This is a tricky path to be on. I know she doesn’t want to cry her way out of the session. I know that’s not what she’s trying to do. But her tears pull at my heart.
“I don’t know why I need this,” she finally says.
“A lot of women need it, Rachel.”
“But why?”
“Oh, I could go into the hundreds of theories I’ve had over the years, but it won’t do you any good. I think a lot of it is about emotional release. And, in the case of our relationship, if we go down that path…” I pause, silently praying that we will definitely go down the relationship path. “If that happens, it will also be about giving up control. About deferring to my decisions.”
“Why should I trust your decisions?”
She’s resisting and I don’t like it. I grab her arm, yank her over my lap, throw up the robe, and give her bottom three hard swats before pulling her back into place. Her mouth is hanging open and she looks shocked. I hold back a laugh. “You’ll learn to trust me.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Listen, I know this is strange to you. It’ll get comfortable with time. And if it doesn’t, then we’ll talk.”
“It already feels comfortable,” she whispers. “I just don’t know why.”
I kiss the top of her head. Her hair smells like my shampoo. “It feels right to me, too. We don’t have to know why.”
We sit in silence for a long moment and I’m confident now. It is right, and she will work it out in her own mind. I give her one final squeeze, one more kiss on the head, and say, “All right. It’s time.”
She nods solemnly and doesn’t resist when I take her hand and help her up. We walk together, across the hall, to the discipline room. I face her and slowly untie the cloth belt of the robe and let it open. She looks down to the ground and I know this will be embarrassing for her but that’s part of the point. I brush the robe off her shoulders and the sound of it falling to the ground is the only noise in the room and then it is silent.
I step back and look at her. Last night I saw her fully naked but this is much different. The light shining into the room doesn’t hide a thing from my sight. Rachel is perfect. Her breasts are supple and firm, her nipples dark and small. Her waist is thin and her hips full and feminine. She is stunning. And right now, looking so submissive and uncertain and yes, a little scared, I feel the familiar fire build inside me and burn strong. It isn’t lust, though I feel that too. No, it’s an incredibly overwhelming need. I need to protect her, to help and hold her. I know she’s strong. That’s been made abundantly clear. But I also know that this will give her a new kind of strength.
I pull my eyes away from her, put the straight back chair into place, and sit down.
“All right, Rachel,” I say. “Come bend over my lap.”
She doesn’t hesitate though she certainly does not move quickly. I don’t hurry her, though. When she’s by my side she looks at me questioningly and I know she’s wondering how she’s going to do this gracefully. I don’t help her. She leans over slightly, bends her knees, and slowly eases herself across my knees. I let her get comfortable for a moment before lifting her just a bit higher so her bottom faces the ceiling.
This is the feeling I’ve missed. Having women who pay me to spank them is one thing; having a lover willingly lay herself over my lap is completely different. I place my hand on her butt, giving her flesh a little squeeze. With clients, I never rub their skin or squeeze their bottoms, but with Rachel, I can be more intimate. The difference is strange and powerful.
“Why are you being spanked, sweetie?” I ask.
There is a long pause and then I hear her take a deep breath. “Because I need it.”
“Good girl.”
With that, I begin. I lay moderate slaps to her behind, alternating cheeks and paying close attention to her verbal and physical reactions. She’s gasping immediately but I know the pain is not very bad. I work slowly, giving her time to mentally adjust to the sensations. When her skin has turned to a nice shade of light pink I stop for a moment and I take my hands from her. The absence of contact makes Rachel squirm. I like watching her move.
“I’m going to spank you hard now,” I say. “Try to be strong, all right?”
She whimpers a little and whispers, “I’ll try.”
I grip her waist firmly with my left hand and raise my right hand in the air, holding it there to allow her anticipation to grow. She tenses her buttocks, then relaxes, and before she can clench again I start to spank fast.
“Oh! Oh!” she’s saying, over and over while I spank her. I can tell she’s trying hard to hold still and be good but her legs are kicking the air and I pause, worried she might try to block me with her hands.
“Rachel, keep your hands on the floor please,” I say. I wait until she’s got her hands planted on the floor before beginning again.
Her behind is brighter pink now and I start concentrating on various areas, spanking her in the same place over and over. The flesh where her bottom meets her thighs is her most sensitive skin and the one that will hurt the most when she sits down for the rest of the day. And perhaps tomorrow.
“Please, David! It’s too much!” she finally wails and I stop immediately and wait for her to catch her breath.
“Too much?” I ask.
“It hurts,” she whimpers.
“Is it supposed to feel good?”
A pause. A long pause. “No.”
“Just a little bit more, all right? Then you’ll get a break.”
She whines a little but I ignore it. I spank her firmly, just twenty more slaps, and then I help her up off my lap and get up to embrace her.
“You did very well, sweetie.”
She sniffles into my shirt and I stroke her back until she calms down. Then I lead her to the corner.
“I’ll be back in a bit. Keep your arms at your sides, all right?”
She gives me a sad, forlorn nod and I leave her alone in the corner to think.
Her corner time also gives me time to think. I want to give her a small lesson for the way she’s been treating Aria, but I can’t violate Aria’s trust by telling Rachel that her secretary sees me for regular discipline. And, to be fair, it could be that Aria is really a terrible employee. After all, Aria only tells me her side. I need to trust that Rachel is a smart woman making good decisions.
After about ten minutes I head back to the discipline room. She jumps a little when I close the door.
“All right,” I say. “You can turn around now. Come here.”
She walks to me slowly and keeps her eyes to the floor. When she’s right in front of me I grasp her shoulders. “Look at me.”
She raises her head and swallows audibly as our eyes meet.
“Give me the name of one person in your life who you’ve treated poorly in the last week or two,” I say. It’s a challenge.
“Um… I don’t know. I’ve been trying to be nice to everyone.”
“Trying isn’t the same as doing. Give me a name.”
“I guess… my mother. I’ve been ignoring her calls.”
I frown. Not what I was going for. Discipline for the way she treats Aria will have to wait. “Why do you ignore her calls?”
“Because she’s constantly nagging me about my life and not being married and she keeps saying how much she wants grandchildren and that I work too hard and don’t travel to see her enough and she’s just a pain to talk with.” Rachel says this fast without pausing for a breath, then sniffles a little and looks down to her feet.
I raise my eyebrows and sigh. The thing about asking a woman what she should be punished for is that she’ll tell you the thing she feels most bad about. Rachel doesn’t feel bad about treating Aria poorly because to Rachel, it just isn’t an issue. One of the many things
that will change when we move toward a long-term arrangement.
“Go lay down on the daybed. On your back,” I say, heading to my chest of implements. I ignore the fact that she is staring at me with uncertainty, wondering what I will do to her, and I survey my equipment slowly. I take my time. Finally, after a quick check over my shoulder to see that she’s in place—though craning her neck to keep an eye on me—I select a rubber slapper. It is about the width of half my hand and six inches long. Without using a lot of force, I can apply an ample amount of pain.
I look at Rachel lying there, waiting for me. Waiting to take the punishment I decide to give. I haven’t used this technique in years because I wouldn’t dare do it with a client. But the urge to push her forward into this crazy new adventure is strong and I want her to feel humility.
I kneel down beside the bed so that our faces are just inches apart. “I’m going to give you ten more spanks. Then you will go call your mother. Understand?”
She nods. She’s mournful and wants this to be over, I’m sure of it. I stand back up and grasp her ankles and pull them up into the air and then down toward her head, baring her butt to me. In this position, with her knees to her chest and her feet in the air, I can see everything. And, from the redness spreading through Rachel’s face, she is very aware of this.
“Please…” she whispers.
“Please what?”
“Please hurry.”
I don’t intend to, though. I give her one solid spank with the paddle, right on her lower buttock and she cries out loudly in pain. “Stay in position,” I warn. I check my watch and set the paddle down and just stand there, watching her.
She’s miserably embarrassed and, judging from the red mark on her behind, she’s in a significant amount of pain. But she stays still for me and I’m proud of her for that.
After a full minute, I lay on another swat. She cries out again but holds herself in place.
I do this for all ten spanks, making the punishment last just over ten minutes. I’m careful to avoid hitting in any sensitive areas and concentrate my spanks on her lower bottom. Her skin is bright red from the treatment but I can tell there will be no bruising.