Lessons in Love

by Kathryn R. Blake

  "Strong, yes, I'll agree. Unhealthy or unnatural, no. We just started a relationship founded on trust, which can take years to foster. It is neither unnatural nor unhealthy for the attachment to be far stronger in the beginning."

  "Strong enough to induce a panic?"

  "Unusual, perhaps, but not unheard of."

  "Nor a desired outcome, I would suppose."

  "No. Not desirable, either."

  The doctor made a note, and Rob gave Pam's fingers another reassuring squeeze.

  "All right. In my opinion, Miss Weston can be released into your guardianship, Mr. Peterson, since she clearly responds to your guidance, as unconventional as it might be. I believe, as you suggest, her misjudgment was based on a fear of not doing what you wanted. You were the one who determined she was in trouble when she phoned, correct?"

  "Yes."

  Dr. Jackson nodded. "Miss Weston, would you agree to counseling?"

  "Why?"

  "Because I think you could benefit from further psychiatric help."

  "Will you refuse to discharge me if I don't consent?"

  "Pam…." Rob cautioned.

  "I want to know. I saw my share of psychiatrists when I was younger, and I think they did more harm than good, but I want to get out of this hospital, too. So, Doctor, is therapy a condition of my release?"

  "No, Miss Weston. It is a recommendation, not a condition."

  "I'll consider it," she responded, though it was a lie. They'd need to drag her kicking and screaming to see another shrink.

  "Thank you," the doctor answered as he rose. "Then I will inform Dr. Mitchell you have my consent to leave. He should see to your discharge this afternoon." He extended his hand again. "Miss Weston."

  She accepted his gesture without releasing her left-handed grip on Rob. However, she needed to let go when the doctor leaned forward to shake Rob's hand.

  "Mr. Peterson."

  "Dr. Jackson."

  Though cordial, Pam suspected neither man would want to shoot a round of golf or play tennis together in the future.

  The moment the psychiatrist stepped out, Pam sighed and collapsed against her pillow.

  Rob chuckled, but when he stood, she sat up again.

  "Relax. I was only going to move back to my chair. He is right about your panic levels. We need to work those down to a more reasonable plateau."

  "Get me out of here, and I guarantee they'll improve."

  "We'll see. In the meantime, I'm going to go out in the hall for a minute to call Paul. You'll need a change of clothes, fresh underwear, and some shoes. Would you like to take a shower here or wait and until we get home?"

  She smiled at his choice of words. Though the home she'd be staying in wasn't hers, he included her as if she belonged nowhere else. "Home."

  He nodded and returned her smile. "Fine. Just the essentials, then. I'll be right outside your door, and, if anyone enters, I'll follow in right behind them. Okay?"

  She sighed. "I promise not to melt down in the few minutes you'll be gone."

  He winked. "I'd appreciate that." Then he stepped out of her room.

  * * *

  Pam considered everything Dr. Jackson said, and she accepted she had grown overly dependent on Rob's perceptions in an extremely short time, but she also agreed with Rob's assessment. New relationships, like theirs, tended to be more intense in the beginning.

  What surprised her most was her acceptance of his discipline. She might protest, but not nearly as strongly as she should, considering her past. She'd murdered a man for hitting her, and yet she submitted to Rob's spankings with little to no resistance. Possibly because the strikes Rob gave her were more like a firm insistence she pay heed to his advice, rather than punishment. She didn't feel chastened afterward. She felt whole and relieved, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. If someone had told her a week ago that she would lie across a man's knee for a spanking with no more than a token show of resistance, she would have called the men in little white coats for a pickup.

  When Rob returned, Pam smiled at him. He gave her a quizzical look then wagged his eyebrows as Dr. Mitchell stepped in behind him.

  "Well," the elderly doctor began, "it appears you were given a clean bill of health, Miss Weston, so I'm going to release you."

  Relief poured through Pam's veins with the force of a torrent.

  "However, Dr. Jackson does want to prescribe something to help tone down those panic attacks you're prone to experiencing. I'm also concerned about your appetite suffering if you take the medication orally."

  Pam's eyes widened slightly. "How else would I take it?"

  "Two other methods come to mind. The first is a suppository. Not difficult to administer, and absorption time is excellent. The second is via an intramuscular injection." He glanced at Rob. "You don't have experience administering injections by any chance, do you?"

  Rob shook his head. "'Fraid not. I'm a fast learner, but dispensing shots was never a requirement for my day job."

  "We could train you, but I think you'd both find the suppository easier to manage."

  Pam winced. She didn't care for either option. "I think I'd still prefer the pill."

  Mitchell shrugged. "Unfortunately, the drug has an unpleasant taste and is known to suppress appetites."

  "Then I would insist we use one of the other options."

  Pam groaned at Rob's pronouncement. "I could insert the suppository myself, right? I mean, it isn't a process that requires another to oversee its insertion, correct?" She asked the doctor while avoiding Rob's eyes. If he insisted upon giving her the drug, she would rather get the shot.

  "Physically, yes, but your caregiver would need to make that determination with you."

  She glanced back at Rob, who frowned down at her with his arms crossed over his chest. She winced.

  "Miss Weston and I could negotiate how she receives her medicine. What are the side effects, if any?"

  "Not any that are serious. In fact, I'd recommend she receive one shot twice a day to start, with a higher dose in the evening. She shouldn't drive or operate machinery while she's on it, and if you choose to do the suppository instead, I'd prescribe two be administered at bedtime since the ingredients should relax her enough to make her drowsy. We will provide you with a list of reactions to watch for, but the medicine is safe enough for children no matter which delivery system is used."

  Pam shook her head. Neither having him press something deep inside her butt hole, or jab a needle in her backside held much appeal. She crossed her own arms and leaned back against her pillow. "I don't suffer the attacks often, and once I'm out of here, I probably won't have any at all."

  Rob stepped forward and sat beside her. "I'm not willing to take the chance. You suffered one on your first day working with me, so I agree you need medication to help you control them. At least until you're more stable, and I also think we should give you something to increase your appetite."

  "Good idea," Dr. Mitchell agreed. "I'll prescribe something that can be used in tandem."

  Pam scowled at Rob. "I don't want you…doing that to me."

  He reached up and squeezed her fingers. "You're not a little girl, Pam, and I've seen my share of female backsides. It will be fine."

  "That's not reassuring."

  "Want me to make the choice for you?"

  She shook her head. "Let me do it myself, and I'll choose the suppository."

  He straightened. "Is that your condition?"

  She hesitated then nodded.

  "Very well." He turned back to the doctor. "We'll try the injection. I'd like to take Pam home today, so I assume a nurse or someone could train me before we leave?"

  "We'd insist upon it. In fact, we'd like you to give Miss Weston her first dose before she leaves. That way, we can all be assured this will work for you."

  "Fine," Rob agreed. "I don't want to leave her for long, so can I do the training in here?"

  Dr. Mitchell coughed. "I don't think watching you pract
ice would do much to ease Miss Weston's misgivings, Mr. Peterson."

  "Good point. Let me call someone to stay with her, and I'll go where you want me."

  "Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, I'll get started on the paperwork. See you later, Miss Weston," he said, holding out his hand.

  Pam uncrossed her arms long enough to return his greeting while Rob retrieved his cell phone and headed toward the door. The reception was apparently poor in her room. "Good-bye, Dr. Mitchell."

  As the doctor followed her boss out, she heard Rob say, "Krista?"

  She didn't require a babysitter, but she also appreciated the fact Rob wanted her protected at all times. Not that she thought anyone would cart her off to the loony bin the moment his back was turned, but….

  He stepped back a few minutes later. "Krista can be here in five minutes."

  "You didn't need to drag her here on a Saturday."

  Sitting down beside her again, he clasped her hand. "It's okay. I also invited her to stay for dinner. I figure the least I could do was offer her a meal for her troubles."

  "She has a boyfriend."

  "I know, but I'm not inviting him. Adam was checking on some things for me, so I asked if he'd like to join us as well."

  "Good. Maybe they'll be willing to fill me in on what's going on."

  Rob pinched her chin. "Not gonna happen. While you're on medical leave, you cannot discuss business, nor do any work whatsoever. You shouldn't even have contact with anyone from the office, but I don't think that can be avoided."

  "Why can't I work from home?"

  "That's part of the conditions the insurance company sets while you are on leave. Their rules, not mine. Though, in this case, I happen to agree with them. For the first few days, I don't want you to do anything more strenuous than walk from one room to the other, and rest. If I catch you doing anything else, your backside will pay for it."

  "I suspect it's going to pay either way, once you're done with your 'training.'"

  "Hey! I'll have you know I'm an excellent student and learn quickly, so let's have a little more faith, please."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A nurse came in to remove Pam's IV, and a few minutes later, Krista walked in with a smile. "I'm baa-ack."

  Rob rose with a nod. "Thanks. I shouldn't be long, and once I'm done, we should be able to leave. At least that's my hope. In the meantime, enjoy your chat, but no work talk. Understand?"

  Krista saluted. "Gotcha, boss. See you in a bit."

  "Right." Rob left, and Krista took his place on the bed.

  "So, where's he off to? Any idea?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. He's going to learn how to give me shots."

  "What? You're kidding."

  "I wish I were."

  "Why? I mean, can't they just give you pills?"

  "They could, but they're afraid they'll ruin my appetite."

  "Oh, yeah. And the bossman has you counting calories to make sure you consume enough. Well, I guess a few needles are better than staying here, right?"

  "Definitely," Pam agreed, not sure she wanted to admit to Krista what her second option was.

  "So, why are you looking so nervous?"

  "Rob just told me it's against company policy for me to discuss business while I'm on medical leave."

  Krista shrugged. "That's okay. You could consider this sort of a forced vacation."

  "But who's to say I'll have a job once I'm released to work again?"

  Krista's shoulders rose and lowered again. "Who's to say you'll need one?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, since you'll be living with your boss, it could be he'll have other plans for you."

  Frowning, Pam considered what Krista was implying. "I don't think that's his intention."

  "Probably not, but who's to say it won't happen anyway? Look, the guy clearly wants to protect you, and that's nothing he's done for any of his other 'girls.' I'm not saying he'll jump your bones as soon as he gets you home, but I can tell he desires you."

  "I'm not so sure you're right. I mean, he hasn't shown any interest at all in that regard since I was hospitalized."

  "And that surprises you? Good lord, girl. You almost died."

  "I doubt it was quite that serious."

  "You were barely conscious from Thursday night until this morning. Trust me, it was."

  "I guess I didn't realize. I'm surprised he didn't read me the riot act or give me hell once I awakened."

  "He was probably too relieved, or still too scared. He's a strong man, but he was frantic after you called him, and even more frantic when you didn't wake up right away."

  "I remember him being a little brusque when I resisted one of the nurses, but other than that, he's been really patient and understanding." She didn't consider the therapy spanking to be anything more than the stress relief he intended it to be, so she didn't count it as punishment, or even a scolding.

  "He's a genuinely nice guy, Pam. I only object to his occasional 'Me, Tarzan. You, Jane' attitude. The man needs to accept women are just as capable as men."

  "I get that. His John Wayne mentality gets to me, too, sometimes, and, yet, a part of me responds to it."

  Krista patted her arm. "I know. I don't mean to put him down. I like and respect him, I just couldn't work for him. At least not under those circumstances."

  Pam hesitated, then asked, "Did something happen to you? Were you hurt by someone?"

  Krista appeared shocked by the question. "Why do you ask?"

  "Because you leapt up and ran out of the room Wednesday, after he gave my hip a sharp smack. Then, I found you crying in the ladies' room."

  "I had a boyfriend who was into kinky stuff, and it sort of got out of hand. I don't think he meant to hurt me, but he did, and I couldn't trust him after that."

  Pam touched Krista's hand. "I understand. It's none of my business. I shouldn't ask."

  "No. It's okay. I don't like talking about it because the memory still freaks me out. He had me tied down, ball gagged, and plugged. I wasn't comfortable, but I'd agreed to do the scene because I wanted him to be happy. Silly, now that I think about it. I should have told him to cram it sideways, but I was in love, and he liked to play rough occasionally. He gave me a hand gesture to use, the Vulcan greeting of separating the third and fourth fingers, if it was too much, then he took a cane to me. I cried out but didn't give the signal until it hurt so badly, I couldn't take any more, but he either didn't see it or didn't want to see it. He kept going. By the time he stopped, I was screaming in my gag and sobbing, which he assumed meant I was enjoying the caning as much he was. When he finally acknowledged my signal and released me, it was too late. He'd been more concerned with his own pleasure than mine. We broke up afterward."

  "So, when Rob gives me light smacks, it sets you off, doesn't it?"

  "Yeah. It triggers a really ugly feeling inside. I want to beat him up for it, but I know that's not acceptable."

  "Does he know?"

  "God, no. I haven't told anyone, or only a few people. I'm sort of embarrassed I let it get that far."

  "It wasn't your fault, Krista."

  "All the same, I put myself in the situation. I knew his kink wasn't mine, and I should have insisted we either do something else or forget the whole thing. Being placed in a position like that leaves you vulnerable and defenseless, and it's scary."

  "I know," Pam admitted quietly.

  "Don't tell me you had a similar experience?"

  "Not exactly. My stepfather used to tie me up and whip me. He beat up my mother so badly, he broke her jaw and one arm. He only got violent when he was drunk, but, unfortunately, that was most of the time after he lost his job."

  "So, did you and your mother leave him?"

  "You don't know?" When Krista shook her head, Pam said, "I killed him."

  Krista's eyes grew wide. "What?"

  "I took a kitchen knife, slit his throat while he was sleeping, and repeatedly stabbed him. Then, after I finished cutting
him up, I attempted suicide."

  "Oh my God, Pam. I had no idea. How old were you?"

  "Sixteen. I was a minor, but they considered my actions to be premeditated, since I waited for him to fall asleep before I attacked, so they tried me as an adult. Though my lawyers gave it everything they could, they couldn't make a case for self-defense, but they did say the abuse presented mitigating circumstances, and my mother was able to corroborate my story as a hostile witness."

  "Hostile? Your mother wasn't on your side?"

  "No. She was an abused wife still in love with her husband. She blamed me for taking him away from her. But she couldn't deny he'd beaten us."

  "So what happened to you?"

  "I was placed in a mental institution for six months then sent to the state penitentiary for four and a half years. When I first arrived in prison, I tried to kill myself again, so I was put on suicide watch. It was an ugly time, Krista. However, the counselor there helped me learn some skills so when I got out I could find employment. He was instrumental in getting me released on parole after I served only three of my five-year sentence. Unfortunately, not many companies like to hire ex-cons."

  "Does Rob know?"

  Pam nodded. "He got my records and even spoke to a few officials. I did try to be a model prisoner once I discovered attempting to end my life wasn't the wisest course of action for me to pursue."

  "Wow. He never gave any indication. I mean I could tell he watched you when you were temping for the other directors, but I assumed he did it because he found you attractive. So, how can you stand it when he gets, all dominant on your butt?"

  "I can't explain it, but he's different. He takes care of me in a way no one else could or would. When he determines my attitude requires adjusting, he isn't cruel or mean about it, just firm and deliberate. And, afterward, I feel relieved. I know it sounds crazy, which I shouldn't admit here, but I find comfort in his discipline and restrictions. Even the pain helps center me."