Isabelle's Story, A Bentley Sisters Novel

by Lauren Beaumont

  When they'd arrived at his house, he'd deposited her on the sofa and then left the room, with a curt command that she stay put. She had no idea where he'd gone. She'd thought she could hear him rummaging through some drawers upstairs, but couldn't be sure.

  Tentatively, she pulled her legs up so she could circle them with her arms and rested her head on her knees, momentarily closing her eyes and wondering how this evening could have gone so badly wrong. She was pretty sure that Meg had still had a good time, and nothing had been spoiled for her, but she still couldn't believe that a few too many drinks had ended so abysmally. Her tolerance levels for alcohol had obviously crashed in recent months, as she wouldn't normally have been so out of control so quickly.

  From where she sat, she heard rather than saw him come back into the living room, hearing a clunk as he placed something down on a table and she quickly opened her eyes to see him standing in front of her, disappointment clouding his otherwise uncompromising expression.

  Plucking up her courage, she figured she might as well ask, "You know, Alex, it's kind of late now, and we're both probably tired. Why don't I just go back to my apartment for now?"

  At his disbelieving expression, she quickly added, "I know you want to talk about it, and we can, but just not tonight, hmmm? Maybe we should just sleep on it and we can feel better by tomorrow?"

  "You have no idea, do you?"

  "Uh, what do you mean?"

  "You really think you can waltz out of here, that we can sleep on it and tomorrow everything will be fine?"

  "Well, uh, no, I know you're pissed off at me, and that's understandable, really it is, but I just think that tomorrow things might look, you know, a bit better."

  "Bel," he sat next to her on the sofa, and looked at her seriously, "tell me, why do you think I'm pissed off at you?"

  "Well, I guess because I got drunk?"

  He shook his head. "No, Bel. I don't mind you having a few drinks. There have been times here when you've probably drunk a bit too much wine and been tipsy. Have I had a problem with that?"

  Confused, as when she thought about it she realised he was right and he'd never batted an eyelid on those occasions, she shook her head.

  He sighed. "Bel, you put not only yourself but also others in a vulnerable situation tonight. Do you really think that you or Elise were in a fit state to get yourselves home safely?"

  "Well," she tried to defend herself, "we'd have gotten a taxi, it would have been fine!"

  "Really?" he looked at her sceptically. "When I arrived, you were busy trying to persuade people to take the party on elsewhere even though they were all ready to go home as it was 2 am. I didn't hear anything about cabs home for you and Elise."

  "Well, maybe, but eventually we would have done. I'm not stupid," she added, a touch of sullenness creeping into her voice.

  "And you think it would have been safe for you and Elise to have trawled the streets at 2 am looking for another club? You couldn't even keep yourselves upright on the stools."

  "It wasn't that bad." Even to her own ears, she sounded slightly whiney.

  "Really? How much do you think you had to drink?"

  She shrugged. She really had no idea, and told him as much.

  "No idea? No idea at all?"

  "It wasn't my fault. The bar man kept pouring us more shots," she explained, thinking that on this one certainly he couldn't blame her.

  "Of course he did!" he sounded exasperated. "It's his job to serve you drinks! But you clearly have no idea whether you had five drinks or fifty!"

  "It was hardly fifty," she muttered under her breath.

  "Really?" he poured scorn on her statement. "How would you know that if you have 'no idea' how many you had, hmmm? You were even pleading with the bar man to serve you after the bar had closed. You realise you could have lost him his job? The poor kid looked like he was barely out of college. He probably had the job to pay his way for his education, and needs to keep it. I doubt he needed you doing your best to make him lose it!"

  "He was interested in Elise. He was trying to get her attention," she muttered, beginning to feel bad as his words struck home.

  "We're not talking about Elise now, we're talking about you, Bel. Do you realise how vulnerable you were tonight? You could barely stand up, were hardly coherent! Anyone could have taken advantage of you, mugged you or far worse if you'd ventured out of that club in that state! Can you not see that?"

  She flushed, knowing that he was right. Although she was used to clubs and drinking, it had been a long time since she had been so out of control, and knew she'd gotten carried away.

  "Maybe," she admitted. "But it worked out okay, didn't it? You and Tom turned up and it was all okay?"

  "But what if we hadn't, Bel," he asked softly. "You didn't know that we'd arranged to come and collect you to make sure you got home okay. You had no idea. You were perfectly prepared to continue the night elsewhere, undoubtedly with more alcohol. You didn't even have a plan as to where you were headed. Anything could have happened to you, and we would have had no idea where you were, or with whom."

  She blinked. He was right, and she felt stupid. She'd lived in London all her life and knew what was and wasn't a good idea when it came to personal safety. She didn't know why she had let things get so out of hand.

  Miserably, she nodded at him and squeezed his hand. "Okay. I know. You're right. I'm sorry, Alex. I promise it won't happen again."

  He sighed. "I hope not. But I'm going to do my best to make sure you think twice before ever ending up in that position again, Bel. Now take off that dress."

  "What?" her head jerked up, not sure she'd heard correctly. "What did you say?"

  "I said, take off the dress Bel. I won't ask again."

  "But, I'll get changed upstairs. I have night things here to change into."

  "No, Bel. We're not going to sleep yet. You're going to get the spanking I warned you about from that first night, and you're going to accept it as the adult that you are. Now, I told you, I won't ask again."

  Aghast, she stared at him. Surely he couldn't be serious? Okay, she knew she'd been in the wrong, but to spank her? Fine, he'd warned her about how he believed in spanking as the backbone of a solid relationship, but she'd only had too much to drink, and it wasn't as if anything really bad had happened. Surely he was joking? Unfortunately, the look on his face was anything but comic and, as she sat there prevaricating, he moved over to her and swiftly pulled her to her feet, instantly finding the hidden zipper on the side of her dress and pulling the whole dress over her head in one swift motion before she even had time to think about struggling, so she was stood in front of him in only her panties and hold-up stockings.

  Gasping, she moved to cover herself and reached out to pull her dress from him.

  "No, Bel. I told you what this would be like, and you've brought it on yourself. Now, you can take off the panties yourself or I'll do it. What's it to be?"

  She gulped frantically, looking around the room to figure out the best means of escape.

  "Don't even think about running, Bel. You know it won't work. I'm not going to let you run from this, run from us."

  Too late, she realised that he was right, and her chances of escape were next to none, but she couldn't bring herself to do as he commanded, to bare herself to him completely and accept the punishment he seemed determined to administer, and she stood there, trapped, unable to move.

  With a sigh, he took her arm, "Okay then, you seem determined to do this the hard way, Bel. So be it." He paused. "Bel, I know you're not going to like this, but you do know why I'm doing this don't you?"

  At her silence, he said, "Bel, answer me. At least have the courtesy to give me an honest answer."

  Her head jerked up at the implicit accusation that she might lie to him. "I know why you think you want to do this, but it's not necessary Alex. I've said sorry, and I've said we can talk about it more tomorrow. Isn't that enough?"

  "So we can rehash the whol
e thing tomorrow, and probably for days afterwards, and make us both miserable until we decide to ignore the underlying issue and just hope it will go away?"

  She flushed. That was exactly what she had hoped for. She could prepare herself to sit it out for a few days and figured that in time he'd forget about it.

  "It doesn't work like that with me Bel. I want us to be able to deal with problems straight away, and not have them hanging over our heads, festering in the background and destroying our relationship before it's even properly started."

  Blinking back tears, she knew she didn't want to lose him. She'd never felt for any man what she felt for Alex, but the thought of him spanking her outside of the eroticisms he'd introduced her to in the privacy of their bedroom, of the humiliation it would involve, was more than she could bear.

  "Now, are you going to accept this?" he asked, his voice still firm, but his eyes tender as they saw the internal struggle she was enduring.

  Slowly she nodded, knowing there was no other answer.

  "Good. I'm glad, Bel," he said with relief. "Although it'll hurt, I promise you that I'll be there to make it better."

  He led her over to the arm of the sofa. "Now, Bel, are you going to get rid of those panties?"

  Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to roll down the scrap of silk, and she looked up at him pleadingly.

  "Okay, I'll do it. But in future, Bel, I'll expect you to do this yourself," and gently he pushed the silk over her hips so it fell to the floor, and rolled down the soft stockings, so that she was fully nude in front of him.

  "Bel, I want you to bend over the arm of the sofa for me."

  "What? But, but I thought," she trailed off.

  "That I'd just put you over my knee?" he queried, softly. "Sometimes I might. But tonight, for this, I want you place yourself over the sofa. What you did tonight," he explained to her gently, "absolutely petrified me, and I want to make sure that you never again put yourself in that kind of vulnerable situation. So, although I'm going to use my hand on you, I'm also going to use a paddle," and with one hand he reached over to the table and picked up the wooden paddle that he had brought down from upstairs once they'd got back to the house.

  Isabelle felt the blood leave her head as she stared at the paddle. No, surely not, he couldn't really think he'd use that on her, could he? Nude or not, she turned to bolt from the room, until she found that his other hand was still grasping her arm and she couldn't move away from him.

  "Bel," he said warningly, "you've accepted this, and I know you understand why it's happening, so there's no way I'm letting you leave now. I know the paddle looks frightening to you, but you've told me that you trust me, so you need to accept that how you're punished, whether it's with my hand, or something else, is something that only I will decide. I promise you that I won't do anything to you that your body can't take."

  Swiftly, not giving her the chance to argue the point, he pressed her forward into the arm of the sofa, putting his hand on the small of her back to gently unbalance her, and she toppled forward with a small cry, instinctively throwing her hands out in front of her, to the deep cushions of the sofa base, to steady herself.

  Gently, he adjusted her slightly so that her bottom was properly supported by the arm of the sofa and her feet weren't able to touch the floor behind her.

  "Now, Bel," he spoke to her softly, stroking her back to reassure her, knowing that the fact she couldn't see him would make her feel more vulnerable in this position, "I'm going to start with my hand, before the paddle. Cry out if you want, it's fine."

  Immediately, standing to the side of her so that he could see her face as well as her bottom, his hand descended on her buttocks with a fierce smack.

  "Ow!" she cried out at once. This was nothing like the erotic taps he'd given her in the bedroom.

  Before she could catch her breath, his hand came down again with a crack on her other buttock.

  There was no soft warm up, no lazy stroking of her most private areas. This was purely intended for punishment, and she knew it.

  Again and again, his hand cracked down, alternating over her buttocks and spreading a red glow over her entire bottom.

  Instantly, she began to struggle and kick her legs as the heat generated by his hand rapidly turned to fire as he smacked again and again spots that had already suffered his ministrations.

  "Stop, Alex. Please, stop, it hurts! I promise I've learned my lesson; you don't need to do this. Please!"

  "No struggling, Bel," he commanded quietly, "the more you struggle, the more spanks you're going to get." His tone allowed no argument and, instinctively, she found herself trying to stop her legs kicking out, as she tried to obey him.

  "Good girl," he said, but the spanks continued and she felt the tears she'd been struggling to hold back begin to flow down her face.

  Quickly, he turned his attention to the tops of her thighs, littering with them same fierce, hard smacks so that they turned the same colour as her bottom.

  Only when he was satisfied that her bottom was glowing just the right shade of pink did he stop.

  "Now Bel, that was the warm up, to make what's about to come easier for you."

  "What?" she twisted her head round, tears still running down her face, having assumed that the worst was over.

  "You're going to get fifty strokes with the paddle, and you're going to count them for me."

  "But, but…." Bel thought that she couldn't stand the pain or the humiliation anymore. "Please Alex, I can't do it. Just let me go, please!"

  "I'm sorry Bel, but if I did that I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. You need this, possibly more than you know. I probably should have come back to London far sooner for you, and done this years ago."

  At her gasp, he picked up the old wooden paddle and brought it down on her left buttock with a quick, resounding crack, and she immediately bucked from her position, howling as the burn spread over her cheek.

  "Owwww. No! Alex, please, no! It hurts so much!"

  "Count, Bel," he ordered her. "That was number one. Repeat it, or I'll add an extra spank for each one you miss."

  Sobbing, she tried to reach back with her hands to cover her poor butt to prevent him striking her again, but found that her wrists were held together in one of his hands.

  "Count, Bel," he warned.

  "One! One, dammit!" she screamed.

  Immediately, she felt the paddle come down again over her bottom, in exactly the same place, "No swearing, Bel, that one didn't count. If you throw bad language out at me during this, each time it happens I'll just start over from one again. Do you understand?"

  Unable to bear it, tears washing down her face, Bel nodded up at him, knowing that he meant every word he said.

  Crack!

  Crack!

  Crack!

  Each time the paddle descended on her bottom, and she was forced to count out loud the strokes, Isabelle wailed and sobbed her pain. She had no idea how she would get through the ordeal, and when his attention turned back to her sit spot, she thought she had no hope left and her legs began to kick out again fervently.

  Quickly, he used one of his strong legs to keep her ankles locked against the side of the sofa, knowing that this was tough on her and she couldn't control her body at this stage.

  Howling in pain and humiliation, Bel continued to count, but by the time she had reached thirty strokes, her mind began to shut down and she found herself counting instinctively and, although she continued to weep, her bawling calmed and she could think only of how stupid she'd been that evening, and how sorry she was for how she had acted.

  Without realising, she found that she had counted the full fifty spanks, and she was being pulled up from the sofa arm and cuddled in Alex's arms, as he held a tissue up to her eyes and gently wiped them.

  Hiccupping, and still unable to stop the tears flowing, she desperately tried to hide her face from him, not wanting him to see her like this.

  "Shhh," he rocked her wher
e they stood, "it's okay, Bel, you were brave."

  Feeling the conflict of panic and sleep overcome her she struggled against him, but he tried to calm her saying, "Bel, it's okay, I promise it's okay".

  Avoiding his eyes, she still tried to pull away from him, muttering "I'm tired," even though she knew that he was looking at her with worry and concern in his eyes.

  "Okay," he said slowly, "we can sleep if you want to, but you need to let me hold you, Bel. Don't withdraw from me, not now."

  Stiffly, she let him lead her up the stairs and he put her to bed, making sure she was lying on her tummy so she didn't hurt her sore bottom, before getting in next to her, but when he tried to pull her into his arms she tensed and froze.

  "Bel," he started.

  "Please, Alex, not now. I just need to sleep. Tomorrow, please?"

  There was silence until, after long moments, he said "Okay," reluctance evident in his body language as well as his voice, and he tried to offer her some comfort at least by stroking her back, although she said nothing and eventually they drifted off to turbulent sleep.

  When he woke up, he was alone.

  Chapter Four

  The shrill ring of her cell phone blistered the silence of the apartment. It was only 10 a.m. and already it was the fourth time he had tried to call her, a routine that had been continuing for the last week. She'd so far managed to ignore his every attempt to contact her, whether it was the constant ringing of her phone or the doorbell. A couple of times he'd even persuaded the residents of one of the other apartments in the building to let him through the main front door and had hammered on her own apartment's door. Again, she'd ignored it completely, although she knew that he was well aware she was at home. The only reason she hadn't switched her phone off completely was her sisters, who had all been in touch to see how she was feeling after Meg's hen party, although their main concern had been the extent her hangover rather than the state of her bruised butt and ego. She supposed she should count herself lucky that he hadn't yet contacted her sisters or, just as likely, Luke or Tom, in an attempt to make her see him.