by W. Winters
“No?”
“I don’t—I don’t want to talk about it.”
The energy in the room feels heightened, almost electric. We’re heading toward a line, together. We’re barreling toward something new, and I can’t breathe for the anticipation of it. I study her. The way she sits, her back straight, her chin lifted. The way her dark eyes never leave mine. Ella knows what she’s doing.
“You need to practice. It can’t be avoided.” It’s true. When she reenters public life, the question will come up. More than likely, given her public profile, she will endure it constantly. She must prepare. I need to know she can handle it. I need to know that it won’t cause her to break down and erase all the progress she’s made. “Are you choosing to disobey me?”
Her chin lifts another fraction of an inch, and then she nods. Definitive. Yes.
“And you’re aware of the consequences for disobeying me.”
Ella clears her throat. “I’d rather be punished.”
I could burst into flames and take this chair with me, and the house, for how much I want her. If I weren’t bound by a contract, I’d blister her ass with my palm and then fuck her over the edge of the sofa. Instead, I don’t make a move. If she’s going to do this, then it will remain her choice all the way to the end. “I won’t allow you to deny me indefinitely, little bird. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
I shift forward in the chair to give myself the room we’ll need. “Then come put yourself over my lap.” Her breathing quickens, audibly so in the quiet of the room, but Ella gets to her feet right away. There’s the slightest shake to her body as she crosses the room. She’s nervous. Which only makes me harder. My cock twitches with need, begging to satisfy her. Ella hesitates at my knees, and I put a hand on her hip. A professional touch. “Bend.”
She does, arranging herself over my lap. I help her into the position I want for a spanking before bracing my forearm over her lower back. She’s so warm and soft over my thighs. So nervous. So brave. I slip my hand over the back of her thigh, just above her knee, letting my fingers trail there. The goosebumps aren’t my only reward; she shivers and writhes ever so slightly. “You know you can end this,” I murmur into her ear.
Ella shakes her head. “No.” She swallows. “I want this,” she whispers.
I know she does. She’s wanted it for a long time now. Her body is begging for this. To have some sort of closure for a pain she can’t control. “I know, little bird.” I slide my hand up the back of her thigh and under the hem of her robe, and then I flip it up, exposing her ass to the air. She shivers again, and I know it’s not from cold—the fire has made it more than comfortable in here. I test one cheek with a quick slap, then the other, rubbing slow circles over the flesh. Her ass is gorgeous with my marks on it. So easily coloring for me. It’ll be red by the time I’m done and she’ll remember this every time she takes a seat, or even so much as shifts in her seat tomorrow.
Clenching my jaw, I prepare myself. It’s been far too long. “Toes on the carpet,” I direct her. With the adjustment, her ass lifts into my hand. “You’ll keep them there until I’m finished. You can make noise if you need to, but you won’t get up, and you won’t kick your feet. Understood?”
“Yes.”
A breath goes out of her. This is familiar territory. My little bird knows how to do this. I trace my fingertips along her slit.
“Thighs farther apart.”
Ella obeys, and it’s my turn to take a four-count breath. Her submission brings out a carnal need from me, and it’s also more than seductive. She tempts me like no one ever has, and yet I have to be so fucking careful with her.
I position my palm over her ass so she can feel it. “Thirty swats,” I tell her.
“Thirty?” Her whisper betrays her lack of confidence.
Without her able to see me, I don’t hide my smirk. “I told you I wasn’t a soft Dom. I won’t make you count out loud this time, but you should do so in your head.”
I give her a beat to process it, and then I begin, sucking in a breath as I slap my hand down on her heated flesh without holding back. She whimpers through clenched teeth for the first three. The next five, though, her mouth drops open and the whimpers are louder, but still short. On the tenth one, her ass is lovely shade of red. It’s a dizzying color. The color I’ve seen in my dreams and my fantasies.
Squeezing her left cheek, I check on her. Wide eyed, she stares at the floor. Her expression isn’t scrunched; there are no tears. “Look at me,” I command her and she does so. Immediately. Her face is flushed, her chest rising and falling with exhilaration.
“Do you know how many are left?” I question to gauge her ability to consent. Shock can steal a submissive’s voice. When she answers twenty, I’m more than aware that she’s still with me.
At fifteen she lets out a little yelp, and my cock twitches beneath her. It sounds exactly like I imagined it.
At twenty, her head lifts, and she strains against my thighs, pushing back on my forearm that holds her steady. But she doesn’t try to stand, and her toes stay on the carpet. Fuck, it’s sexy. I can tell how badly she wants to kick. She’s close to crying but not as close as I thought she’d be.
She groans under me and when I ask her again how many, this time her brow pinches, and she can’t control her pitch as she calls out ten.
“Good girl,” I tell her and reward her by letting my touch fall to her slit. It’s a short moment of reprieve. My little bird can take more than this.
But I won’t push her tonight. She’s already had her first punishment; I would prefer it not to be paired with the first utterance of her safe word as well.
I finish the final ten spanks with the same even rhythm, not letting up, not going soft, but also spreading the blows so they don’t land on the same spot too many times in a row. They’re hard cracks of my hand on pink flesh, but I’m certain they won’t bruise her. Ella cries out with each one but no tears slip from her eyes.
Next time I will be more severe with her. And knowing Ella, next time will come sooner rather than later.
I deliver the final blow and she shudders over my lap, gasping. I pull her upright over my legs so she’s straddling me. It’s so close to how she’d be if I could fuck her like this. If she was mine. With her robe loosened, her left breast is exposed and I indulge, quickly dropping my lips to her nipple. It’s a quick suck that I release with a pop, and then I take her chin in my hand and guide her face up so she’s looking into my eyes. “Will you disobey me again?” I ask her even though I’m well aware she will.
My own breathing is heavy, but hers is much worse, it’s ragged.
She gives me an adamant shake of her head, and I could kiss her and that naïve, eager-to-please mouth of hers. Her eyes drop down to my shirt.
Squeezing her ass in my hands, I let her small body drop forward as she moans, bracing herself on my shoulder.
“Look at me.” Every time she does this—every time she brings her dark eyes to mine—I feel it. An electric jolt. It’s deep, in my veins. Ella’s breathing is fast, shallow. She needs what every sub needs after a punishment. There’s a moment, a moment that’s far too short yet suspended in time. And in it, I forget my words. I forget everything except for the way she looks at me.
“Did I do okay?” Her voice quavers, and it’s so raw, this thing between us. It’s so necessary. And for once I can give a person what they need. For once I’m in the right place at the right time.
I brush her hair behind her back and then run my thumb down the curve of her neck. “You did so well, little bird. That’s why I’m going to reward you. Spread your legs wider.”
This is for her. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t also for me.
Her legs are spread over my thighs and I pull her in closer, her forehead resting against the side of my neck. Her body collapses into mine, melting, and I take that moment to skim a hand between her parted thighs and find the heat between her legs.
Ella moans softly and spreads her legs another inch to give me better access. With a rough chuckle, I comment in a low voice full of approval, “Greedy girl.”
She’s wet. Ready. I don’t make her wait long. I push two thick fingers into her without hesitation and she clenches around me. At first she arches her back, and her blunt fingernails dig into my shoulders.
“Steady yourself and fuck my hand.” As she does, I make sure I keep my thumb pressed against her clit. I want her to have all the pleasure after getting through her first punishment so well.
Her hips settle into an immediate rhythm, rocking against me, seeking that pleasure. Seeking reward.
“You can have it, little bird. Take it.”
“Please,” she begs into the crook of my neck, her hips working to fuck my fingers. “Please just let me have you. I want all of you.” She stops her movements. “I want you,” she emphasizes. She wants my cock inside of her and I’d be damned if I didn’t want the same.
I wrap a hand around the back of her neck. “No.” It hurts to deny her, but I have to. I’m firm about this. “Take what I’m giving you like a good girl.”
I press a thumb to her clit. Three circles. That’s all it takes and she’s driving her hips forward, fucking my fingers like a wild thing, her face hot on my neck. She comes hard in a series of pulses and flutters around my fingers that I would give anything, anything to feel around my cock.
“Good,” I whisper into her ear. “Good girl.”
Zander
In the event a client requires more specialized care, alternate methods may be considered.
If I’d had more time, I would feel more prepared to bring her here. Instead, I ask her once again, “What is your signal?”
My sweet submissive, sweet but defiant, lifts three fingers directly over her lips, the tip of her middle finger resting on the tip of her nose. It would be an unnatural response to yawn, given how straight her hand is and exactly perpendicular to her lips. It is our signal. If she gives it, I will immediately interfere and the conversation will halt.
That is the best I can offer her for when the inevitable questions arise.
For her sake, and her beautiful and susceptible heart, I hope it doesn’t happen today. Because she’s done nothing but smile all morning when “brunch” was mentioned.
Relaxing the tension in my shoulders, I take a moment, praying that she’s right about her friends. I can’t control what they say or ask or do. So much is out of my control and I don’t fucking like it. If it weren’t for the fact that this is my job, I would order her not to attend. It’s far too soon in our relationship, but this is not my decision and I already knew our arrangement would come with difficulties.
The restaurant her friends chose is upscale and intimate. We climb the rustic paved steps to the upper floor and enter a sunny room bathed in the golden midmorning sun of autumn. From this height, the picture windows are filled with fall colors. The trees on the low mountain rises have leaves in deep red and orange, with flares of yellow. It’s a breathtaking view.
The sight reinforces the stark contrast of the worlds we live in. A woman like Ella will have brunch dates and parties to attend, rubbing elbows with the rich and making appearances for charity. She’s a high-profile client for a reason. Her wealth is something I’d nearly forgotten until this morning.
This is her reentering her life. The one she left behind. As I follow behind her, only escorting her for support, Damon texts that he’s arrived. He’s parked outside next to my BMW 760Li. We each have one assigned to us from The Firm. Black, steel paneled. The security vehicles are unnecessary for Ella, but she did enjoy the leather interior. The car, given to me for the job, is the only piece of luxury I could ever offer her. The thought hits me only now.
“Okay,” Ella says and breathes out slowly as she stares at a table in the corner, slipping her periwinkle wool coat down her shoulders. I help her to remove it, but she doesn’t let me take it. Instead she holds the folded garment a minute longer, as if it’s a shield. Two beautiful women are seated at the farthest end, both smiling and laughing, both oblivious for the moment that Ella’s here.
Ella’s chest rises and falls with anticipation and I offer her a slight push with my hand on the small of her back. That’s the only nudge I give her before her friends notice her and squeal in delight, the chairs pushing back and scraping against the farmhouse wood floors.
With Ella smiling broadly, and quickly joining the women, I text Damon back that we’re in location.
Ella described each of her friends to me on the way over. Kelly’s the shorter of the two—Asian, with shiny black hair that cascades down to her lower back and the kind of face that belongs in magazines. Her face lights up at the sight of Ella. Trish is tall and blond and wears a playful grin that wouldn’t be out of place at a club. From what Ella said, she spends a lot of time partying. Together they all look young, rich and carefree. For the moment.
These are her best friends. Her oldest friends. But I know how it is to go back to the world after you’ve been away, whether it’s mentally or physically. Overwhelming as fuck.
With some friends you can pick up where you left off easily, but even if they’re those kinds of friends, where Ella left off is … well, that’s where the problem lies. And why I stay on edge, even if her posture confirms that Ella is full of relief and joy.
“Hi,” Kelly says, and she wraps Ella into an instant hug. “We missed you.”
“We did. So damn much!” Trish wraps her arms around both of them, and Ella is almost lost in the embraces of her friends. “I’m so glad to see you, El. It’s been way too long.”
Ella clears her throat. “I know.”
Kelly blinks; it’s only a half second of a response before Kelly corrects her expression. That’s the only reaction to the changed sound of her voice.
“Sit, sit, sit,” she ushers Ella, pulling out a chair for her and Trish pipes up with, “I was just telling Kelly all about the new guy.” They move on without addressing it at all. The atmosphere is lighthearted, the women all smiling still.
It’s immediately obvious that these women might not know the full story, but they’re not going to push her beyond what she can handle. “Let’s sit,” Kelly says, giving Ella a last pat on the back. “Let’s eat.”
“I’m all for that,” Ella says and laughs. As they take their seats, I search for a waiter or waitress to ask if I can plant myself in the corner of the room, remaining in sight, but at a distance.
“This one is for you,” Trish calls out to me. Half-seated, she perks right back up. “There are four chairs for a reason.”
“Come, come.” Kelly gestures with her hand, waving me over. “I promise we won’t bite,” she adds.
Trish side-eyes her with a devilish smile before turning that grin to Ella and saying loud enough for me to hear, “Shh, don’t tell him Kelly’s lying.”
Ella doesn’t miss a beat laughing along with the girls and she turns in her seat, brimming with a happiness I have yet to see her wear back at her home. It’s a striking contrast and when she asks politely, “Please, would you sit with us,” but with wide pleading eyes, I offer her the professional response.
“This is your brunch—”
“Oh no, we insist,” Kelly interjects. Clearing my throat, I give them a tight smile and take the seat next to Ella. Heat races along the back of my shoulders. This is what we would do for any other client, I remind myself. This is professional. That is all this is.
Ella’s gaze burns into me and rather than looking, rather than giving our relationship away, I reassure her that all is well by slipping my hand onto her thigh. Balancing the professional image with the very unprofessional touch. With it, though, Ella laughs. “You two practically bullied him,” she teases.
As Kelly shamelessly shrugs, Trish leads the conversation.
“So.” Trish picks up her water goblet and takes a sip. “Who’s this, El?”
For a split second, Ell
a beams at me. It sets my heart racing. Then her expression settles into something more neutral. Good. “This is Zander, one of the men from the private firm I hired.”
This is the story we’ve settled on for when Ella makes these appearances—that she’s hired a new security firm. No one else needs to know the details, and no one ever will. The Firm prides itself on confidentiality. “It’s nice to meet you ladies,” I say to greet them.
Trish shares a look with Kelly, who raises her eyebrows. It’s over in the blink of an eye, and I sit back in my seat and stay quiet. It’s not long before the three women are talking around me.
This is exactly what I want.
I’m here to observe Ella for signs that she needs to leave, whether it’s with her signal or otherwise, and that is all.
Watching her with her friends is a stark difference from the silent woman in the courtroom almost a month ago. She is different with Kam, more laid back and less high energy than she is now with her friends. She is dynamically beautiful, transparently confident, and yet, when no one is looking … I know she has her moments. We all do.
The conversation is easy and light, as are the meals the women eat. The brunch consists of dainty pastries, a variety of fresh fruits and berries, eggs benedict and sides of bacon, sausage and ham.
Although the women are slim, the platters disappear quickly and I half wonder where they put it away. Ella herself doesn’t hesitate to take her share and when the women push it on me to eat, I do so for politeness only.
A half an hour passes without the women concerning themselves with me at all.
Kelly tells Ella about a book she read—apparently she likes fantasy, and she likes it steamy—and only once does she cut a glance at me. “Sorry, Zander,” she says, and Ella laughs.
I offer a smirk, again telling myself it’s to be polite, although I will admit, I’m fond of the way they treat Ella. Trish whispers, “I bet Z would like it,” “there’s totally sex in it.” Kelly laughs as Trish asks Ella, “What do you think?"
