Isabelle's Story, A Bentley Sisters Novel

by Lauren Beaumont

  Bleary eyed, despite it being mid-morning, Isabelle pulled the duvet back over her head and buried herself in the pillows. Not that she could sleep. She'd barely managed more than a couple of hours a night since the horrific incident at Alex's house. Nor was she eating, and she knew that she'd lost weight. It wasn't deliberate, but every time she thought of that awful scene, the memory of her humiliation sent her appetite crashing through the floor. She still winced as flashbacks raced through her mind, not so much a recoil from the pain, although that had been bad enough, but more of the sense of helplessness and vulnerability to him that she'd felt. She knew it was all compounded by the knowledge that she had behaved so badly, but she hadn't expected to feel so out of control emotionally as he'd punished her.

  She knew she would have to face him sooner or later, but right now she preferred that that time be later. Unfortunately, she also knew that she was going to have to retrieve some of her belongings from his house. Although their relationship had been relatively short lived, she'd found that with the longer spring days she loved working from her laptop on the patio of his garden, but that meant that she'd left some of her papers in his house so that she didn't have to trail them back and forth. As a result, the structure of her next chapter was also locked in his kitchen which, although the thought of trying to write anything right now left her numb, was something she needed to fix, and fast.

  Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she wondered how she could best try and retrieve her things without having to face him. Sitting up suddenly, she realised that she still had his spare set of house keys, which he'd given her so she could come and go easily enough if she wanted to sit outside to write. Today was Friday, and she knew that on Friday afternoons he always had his departmental meeting and so wouldn't be at home. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, she could pop round while he was out and he'd never even know.

  * * *

  Awash with a newfound confidence at her plan, Isabelle carefully unlocked the door of his house and slipped in. As she stood in the hallway, she paused, feeling emotional again as she remembered the last time she was here. Thankfully, she knew she'd stashed her papers in the kitchen, so she didn't have to face going into the living room and confront the vivid memories she knew it would invoke. Her heart heavier than she had expected, she walked through to the kitchen, focussing on the small table at the back of the room where she knew she had last placed her work.

  "Hello, Bel," a quiet voice greeted her from the corner of the room.

  Jumping what felt to her to be a mile into the sky, Isabelle shrieked in fear as her heart pounded and she dropped the house keys that she had still been holding in her hand.

  "Alex!" she cried, as her shoulders dropped in relief and she clutched the kitchen counter for support.

  "Bel…" he looked grey and tired, nothing like the Alex she had left sleeping a week ago, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

  "I… that is, you didn't," she tried to recover, not wanting him to see just how badly scared she had been, "What… what are you doing here?"

  He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't attempt to pretend that he didn't know what she meant, "I figured you'd come back here sooner or later for your papers." He nodded at the pile of papers at the back of the kitchen. "You wouldn't answer any of my calls or open the door to me, so it seemed like the only way of seeing you, talking to you, to try and resolve things between us was to wait for you to come here."

  "But, you're supposed to be at the hospital. You have meetings this afternoon."

  He sighed, "I cancelled the meetings, Bel. This is more important."

  Flustered, not having expected that she'd have to confront him, she gazed determinedly at the floor, her best plan now in shreds around her.

  "Bel…" he rose from where he was seated and approached her cautiously, as if approaching a nervous kitten, which, she figured, was probably a fair analogy, "Please… let me make you some coffee and sit down. We do need to talk."

  "I don't think we have anything to talk about any more," she replied stubbornly, not knowing how she could begin to articulate her jumbled feelings.

  Raggedly, he pushed his hand through his hair, "I know you're confused, I know you're scared, and I'm sorry for that. It's my fault. I should have insisted that we talk about things before we went to sleep. I should have insisted on comforting you properly, instead of letting you sleep when you were so upset."

  "Confused? Scared?" she repeated back at him, disconcerted by the accuracy of his assessment, but deciding that attack was the best form of defence, "What would you know about how I'm feeling, Alex? You clearly didn't care about my feelings the last time I was here, so why start now?"

  "Not care?" now it was his turn to repeat her words, but through pure astonishment rather than attack. "How could you think I don't care? Bel, I care more for you than I have ever cared for any woman, and don't even think to pretend that you don't know that, as I've told you that time and time again since I arrived back in London."

  She reddened, as she couldn't deny that he was telling the truth.

  "Please, Bel. Sit down and let's talk."

  Knowing she had little choice in the matter. After all, she'd been caught sneaking into his home when she'd thought he was away, and although the conversation was the last thing she wanted to have, now that it was effectively facing her, there was little to be gained from putting it off.

  Stiffly, she nodded her head.

  Clearly relieved, he switched on the kettle and, turning to her, said gently, "Why don't you go and get comfy in the living room, and I'll bring it through?"

  "No!" she exclaimed, immediately, "Not the living room!" as panic filled her eyes.

  "But…" he started, confused, before understanding dawned, "Oh… okay, that's fine. Look, it's a nice day out, why don't you at least go to the patio? It'll be much more comfortable than perching in the kitchen, I promise."

  Warily, she agreed and made her way out to the peaceful garden, blinking back tears as she remembered how much she loved sitting out here and getting lost in her work until he came home from the hospital. Sitting down, she curled up in the corner of the sofa and rested her head on its side, the fight ebbing from her as her emotions caught up with her.

  Startled, she felt his hand lightly touch her shoulder, and she jerked her head up to see him holding out coffee for her before he sat down next to her, careful to keep some space between them and not overwhelm her, but equally making her well aware of his presence.

  "You've lost weight, Bel," he commented, with a frown.

  She shrugged, "I guess I haven't felt like eating much."

  "Why not?"

  "You know why not!" she looked up at him, the tears threatening to fall.

  He reached out and took the coffee cup from her, placing it on the patio table, and took her hands in his. "Tell me, Bel. Talk to me. Tell me why you ran from me."

  She could have dealt with his anger, but his tender, understanding tone was her undoing and she began to tremble under his gaze. "It was demeaning, Alex… so demeaning… you humiliated me!" and her trembling turned to a trickle of tears.

  "Humiliated you?" he sounded shocked.

  She nodded miserably.

  "But, how?"

  "How?" she asked, incredulously, "You know how! How can you even ask that?"

  "Bel," he chose his words carefully, "A spanking isn't designed to be humiliating, or demeaning. At least, the spankings that I give aren't intended in that way. It is supposed to make you feel more vulnerable, and there isn't much way of avoiding that, but humiliation isn't a part of it. I wanted you to understand why the way you behaved that night was so wrong, so dangerous. I wanted you to trust me enough to correct that behaviour, to know that I'll be there to make sure you're looked after, and that you'll look after yourself."

  "But you treated me like a child!" she cried.

  "A child? Oh Bel, whilst I'm a firm believer that children can benefit from a spanking in certain circumstances,
that's so very different from the spanking that takes place between a man and a woman. It may still be about correction, but it's based on a woman's trust in the man, and on his desire to tend to all her needs."

  "I can't do that, Alex, I just can't. It won't work."

  "Did I hurt you? I mean, really hurt you?"

  She hesitated. It had hurt, it had hurt horribly, but she knew he wasn't talking about the short-term burn that she'd felt spread over her bottom that had lasted throughout the next day. He was asking whether he'd properly harmed her, and she was forced to shake her head at him.

  "Tell me, do you think you deserved the spanking?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not trying to trick you, but I'm curious as to whether you think you deserved it, or whether you think it was unfair."

  "Well," she hesitated, unable to lie, "I know that I behaved badly, I really do, and I won't do anything like that again. But we could have talked about it, discussed it. You didn't need to do what you did to make me realise that I was wrong."

  He nodded. "Okay. So you'd rather we'd just talked about what happened?" and, when she nodded, added, "But you know the likelihood is that we'd just have ended up arguing and bickering over it?"

  She frowned. "There's nothing wrong with the odd argument," she said defensively. "Adults can have debates and argue, and it works out fine."

  "Sometimes," he acknowledged, "but sometimes it also leads to days, or more, of bitterness and sulking, or blame being pinned on one person. Sure, maybe it can have its place in some situations if there really is something to be debated, but to my mind that's an adult discussion, not an argument. I'm not convinced there was anything to be debated last week Bel, do you?"

  She was silent, knowing that he had a point.

  "Bel," he said at last, "I have a proposal for you."

  She looked up at him, warily.

  "It sounds to me like, in previous relationships, whenever there's been a problem, you've just argued it out or ignored it, is that right?"

  She nodded.

  "Whereas, I freely admit, in my relationships, I've rarely been able to tolerate arguments or ignore problems, and I've found that the relationships have been steadier, happier even, with firm ground rules and the knowledge that there are consequences if certain rules are broken."

  She just looked at him, unsure where he was headed.

  "But, it doesn't sound like you're afraid that I'll harm you?" the statement was posed as a question, and she shook her head, not wanting him to think that she feared him.

  "So, I think we owe it to each other to try both ways of going about this relationship."

  Her eyes widened.

  "How about, for the next two weeks, we'll do things your way, the way with which you're comfortable? There won't be any ground rules, any spankings and I'll do my very best not to be controlling or, as you like to put it, bossy. I can't guarantee that I'll be much of an arguer, but I can promise you that I'll do my best to be easier going than perhaps I am naturally."

  Hope began to shine in her eyes.

  "But," he continued, "after that, we'll spend two weeks reversing that. There will be general ground rules, and it was probably my mistake that I hadn't laid those out weeks ago. Perhaps," he added wryly, "we wouldn't be here now if I had. But that to one side, we'll discuss the rules so you know what will and won't have consequences."

  "Consequences?" she asked, although she suspected she knew exactly what he meant.

  He nodded. "If you break those ground rules Bel, and the rules will be ones that are intended to keep you safe, healthy and well, then I will spank you, you need to understand that. But I promise you that after a spanking, I'll comfort you, you can talk to me about anything and there won't be any on-going recriminations. No bitterness, no struggles, it will be over and done with."

  His words were heartfelt, and she flushed, as she knew she hadn't given him the chance to demonstrate them a week ago.

  "Then, after those two weeks, you tell me if you still don't think you can be in the kind of relationship I proposed, if you think the only way you could be with me is in your kind of a relationship, and we can talk about it, but only after we've both given the other a fair chance. What do you think?"

  Her heart jumped and a smile tugged at her lips for the first time in days as she saw the tenderness of his gaze. "You really think you can stop bossing me about for a full two weeks?" she teased.

  He laughed, "I'll do my best, although I may need to go for a quite a lot of long runs to work off any excess frustration!"

  She pouted prettily at him and, slowly, moved slightly across the sofa to where he sat with his arms open ready to pull her into his body and, with relief, she nestled against him, feeling at peace once again as his strong body supported hers and she rested her head against his chest.

  "I'm sorry I ran out on you," she whispered softly.

  He looked down at her, "I've been so worried Bel. Please, promise me that if ever there's a similar problem in the future, you'll talk to me, and not run from me?"

  "I'll try. I promise I'll try. I just, I just felt so confused, and embarrassed."

  "I know, love. I understand. But I want you to know, you've no reason to feel embarrassed about anything that happens between us, ever. That's what trust's about, Bel, and intimacy."

  She nodded quietly, feeling like she was beginning to understand, and rested her head back against him.

  * * *

  Over a week into their arrangement, Isabelle scowled at her laptop. Everything should have been blissful. She had pretty much exactly what she'd asked for. She and Alex had worked out their issues, well, in the short term anyway, and he was making a real effort to tone down his natural, dominant and authoritarian manner. Sure, she could tell there were times when he was having to bite his tongue, and there was more tension in his shoulders than there used to be, but he hadn't threatened once to spank her, or tried to tell her what to do. It was, to her mind, a 'normal' relationship, like what she'd enjoyed in the past, but with a man who was so very special to her.

  But things were not blissful. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but she was grouchy, irritable and, she hated to admit it, verging on rude both to Alex and to her friends. She wasn't even making the progress she'd expected on her book. She put her head in her hands. She was mature and self aware enough to be honest with herself. She could feel herself travelling down the same path she had in the past, where she pushed and pushed with a man until she either drove them away or they gave in to her demands, demands that she usually didn't even much care about. She just didn't know how to stop herself.

  In the last few days, she'd found herself deliberately staying out late with Elena without letting Alex know her plans, just leaving him a scribbled note telling him she'd be back later and not to wait up. Predictably, he'd stayed up for her, refusing to go to sleep until he knew she was home safe. Although he might be biting his tongue, there was no way he could completely change his ways. Okay, she hadn't been drinking particularly much and was relatively sober when she did let herself into the house, but when he casually asked her where she'd been, she'd found herself replying like a sullen teenager, just telling him she'd been "out and about" with Elena. She'd seen his shoulders tense at her attitude, but he hadn't said anything, just smiled and asked if they'd had a good time.

  Only yesterday she'd decided, at the last minute, to go out for the day as she wasn't making any progress with her writing and this time hadn't even bothered to leave him a note. When she'd waltzed back in the evening, having already eaten without him, she'd expected to be on the receiving end of a real telling off from him, but he'd just gently asked her if she thought that that was really fair to him, not to have told him she'd be out, as he'd been worried. When she'd sniffed, and told him that there was no reason for her to have to inform him of her every move, as they hadn't had any plans any way, he's just tried to reason with her and she'd ended up accusing him of trying to boss her arou
nd and control her life again, swore at him and stormed off to bed. As he tried to kiss her at night, she'd pulled away, in a sulk for reasons she couldn't even explain to herself.

  She sighed. She didn't know why she had so much pent up frustration at the moment. Alex made love to her each night, well at least when she let him and didn't pull away from him and create distance between them for no reason, and was playing the role she had demanded, the role she thought she had wanted. But, somehow, she felt as if they were losing the closeness that they'd previously shared, that they were two people who came together when it suited rather than being a unit.

  Her cell phone beeped and, reached down to see who was contacting her, she saw it was an SMS from Alex, warning her that he might be an hour late home that evening as he had a patient who needed an emergency appointment. Maybe, she thought to herself, she'd try and make up for her grouchiness recently and cook dinner for them that night. She knew she hadn't really been pulling her weight around the house, insisting that they just order take away or go out for dinner when she'd previously promised that she would cook, telling him that she was too tired, or had been too busy to prepare anything, even when she knew he'd had a long day in the operating theatre. Her mood brightening, she began to think about what she cook from her admittedly limited repertoire and, grabbing her purse, ran out to the grocery store to get supplies.

  Three hours later, her temper was already close to breaking. Nothing had gone according to plan. The rice had stuck to the bottom of the pan, the "blanched" vegetables were pretty much stewed and, to make matters worse, Alex still wasn't home, with the result that dinner would likely be burned as well.

  As she heard the click of the front door as he let himself in, she could feel herself preparing for a fight.

  "Hey sweetheart," he called, and came in to sweep her up for a quick kiss, frowning when she immediately pulled away from him.