"Glad you changed your mind," he said.
A little heat stole over Liv's cheeks. "A woman's prerogative. Isn't that what they say?"
He nodded and held out his hand. "That's what they say. Come on."
She took his hand, but resisted being pulled along. "Wait. Am I dressed okay? How fancy is this place?" He was dressed in his usual jeans and boots, but sported a western shirt with wide yoke shoulders and fancy buttons. Liv considered her own slightly rumpled linen pants and loose tank top and felt inadequate.
"It's not fancy, and you're dressed fine. You look gorgeous. You always look gorgeous," he assured her.
She didn't feel gorgeous, but she did have makeup on, and her hair was okay, so she stopped resisting and got in the truck with him.
It took half an hour to get to the cantina called Carlos' Carniceria. It didn't look like a butcher shop, so the name was obviously a quip.
Liv was a little nervous about meeting Trey's friends, but she plastered on a smile and tried to think confident thoughts.
The inside of the restaurant was colorful, with murals on the walls and lots of attractive Mexican pottery and lush plants. Trey murmured something to the pretty hostess at the wooden hostess stand and she guided them to a table where three people sat smiling and conversing.
They all looked up as Trey and Liv arrived.
A bright-eyed brunette spoke up first. "Trey! Finally. We thought you'd had a flat tire or something."
He smiled and pulled out a chair for Liv. "I like to keep y’all guessin’."
The brunette grinned and winked at Liv.
Beside her at the table were a blond guy with stylish glasses and a slender redhead with big green eyes. They both said their hellos enthusiastically.
Trey made the introductions.
"Everybody, this is Liv Aune. Liv, this inquisitive little minx is Rosaria Sanchez. Beside her is Mark Wallace, and beside him is Laura Niles."
Liv greeted them in turn, and was graced with smiles and friendly welcomes.
As they sat down, Mark pushed his glasses up on his nose and addressed Liv. "So you're a model? Do you like it?"
She shot a look at Trey who grinned shamelessly. He must have talked about her to his friends. "Yes, I'm at Journey's End doing a photo shoot for Jen Christenson Clothing right now. It's a good job. I've been doing it so long that I can't imagine doing anything else." Except maybe having a family and kids, she thought, then wondered where that brain burp had come from.
Liv put her napkin in her lap as the waitress put water down in front of her and Trey and took their drink orders. Liv ordered a margarita, despite thinking that she ought not to have the calories. It was okay to live a little.
"So," she began, "how do you all know Trey?"
They looked at each other, then at Trey who nodded once. They were getting permission to speak freely.
The redhead spoke first. "We're members of a little club. It's called Boys With Toys, and has several chapters across North America."
"Boys With Toys?" Liv responded. "I've never heard of it. Is it a children's charity?"
Mark laughed, and the women smiled, prompting a smile back from Liv.
"Hell no," Rosaria answered. "It's an adult group that explores BDSM. It's for male dominants and female submissives."
"Wow."
"I warned you," Trey said.
Liv nodded and put on her I'm-so-sophisticated face. "Right. I’ve heard of organizations like that, but that’s as close as I’ve gotten."
Mark spoke next. "We're having our annual Boot Camp at Journey's End starting tomorrow." He turned to Trey. "Have you talked to Liv about it?"
Trey shook his head and a lock of his brown hair fell down on his forehead. It was boyish, and appealing. Liv wanted to reach out and comb it back in place. "No. We haven't talked about Boot Camp Inc. at all, in fact."
"Boot Camp Inc.?" Liv asked. Was this the side business he'd referred to recently?
"My brothers and one of my sisters formed a company a few years ago. We offer week-long corporate bondin’ 'boot camps' at Journey's End. That's why we have all the little cabins. We also have an old house which is used as a conference center for the groups."
"What do you do at the camps?"
"It's kind of like a combination of army boot camp and dude ranch, mixed up with some classes pertainin’ to each business' field. The BDSM Boot Camp is different; it’s not a corporate boot camp, it’s a group retreat for the spankin’-oriented BDSM crowd. It’s still structured a bit like a boot camp, but the physical part has…different challenges."
"It's a lot of fun," Laura chimed in. "Rosaria, Mark and I go every year."
The three were pretty chummy. Liv wondered about their relationship. Or maybe one of the women was along as a potential date for Trey. She pondered that and sipped at her margarita while the friends talked small talk. The waitress came and took their food orders, and Liv had to make a quick decision between a plate full of tasty sounding meat samples and a salad. She was among unfamiliar people. Did she dare show her weakness for food? What if one of the women was there to seduce Trey? Wouldn't she make a snide remark over the amount of fat on the meat platter?
Salad seemed the safer choice. And, once again, it was keenly disappointing to miss an opportunity to have what she liked. She was also frustrated with herself for not embracing her new body. She sighed, and Trey looked over at her, his brows rising in question.
"Hard decision," she said. "So many yummy choices."
That seemed to satisfy him.
The other women ordered meat dishes with piles of tortillas and cheese. It was depressing.
They chatted about recent movies and TV shows for a while, and then began what appeared to be a casual planning session for the BDSM Boot Camp.
Much of it sounded like pretty normal stuff: horseback riding, daily run through the trees, picnicking, cooking classes. But then they got into the kinky stuff and Liv found she had less to contribute and more to listen to.
"So, are we still working with two x-frames, Trey? Last year, two wasn't enough. Can we get three?"
"I only have two," Trey answered. "And no time to build another one. Can we borrow one from someone?"
"I'll check with Dennis. He has a lot of equipment."
Trey ate a mouthful of fajitas before his next comment. "Good. I dug out all of the comfort stuff this year–blankets, the hot-cocoa cauldron, massage oils, all that. Subs will be cared for better than ever. Looks like we'll have a record turnout."
"You can't always go by RSPV's," Rosaria pointed out. "People chicken out at the last minute."
"Yeah, we took that into account when we made the tally."
Liv hesitated, but asked, "You said subs will be cared for. Aren't they supposed to be subservient and treated…well…harshly?"
Trey smiled kindly, but Mark spoke up. "Subs are people too, Liv. They get into their space and follow orders, and the way they're treated depends on each of them. There are a few—very few—who get off on being abused, but that’s not what our group's into, and we discourage such people from attending, or returning if they do. In our circle, subs are generally rewarded for being obedient and well-behaved."
Trey explained further. "It’s a bit like, well, training horses: some people use whips and punishments, but most of us are into affection training."
"What are their rewards?"
"Orgasms," Laura supplied. "And cuddles, and delicious scenes involving things we like or want to try."
"Wow."
"That's the second time you've said that, Liv," Trey said with a chuckle. "Are you sure you're not shocked?"
She frowned at him. "Are you trying to shock me?"
"I might be."
"Well, knock it off soldier-boy."
Rosaria giggled behind her hand and Mark snorted.
"Oh, boy," said Laura softly.
Trey's smile slipped, but returned quickly enough—perhaps a little cooler than before. "That was pretty disrespectful, Liv
."
"Well, you keep treating me like I'm some kind of inexperienced yahoo."
"A yahoo, hm?"
"Yeah, and it's annoying. You ought to think before you talk."
There was complete silence at the table. No silverware clattered, no breaths were breathed. All six of his friends' eyes turned to Trey, and Liv didn't miss it. She had a feeling that she'd stepped in a mud puddle wearing her best shoes.
"I should think before I talk?"
Liv turned back to her salad bowl, and prepared to take a bite. She had no reason to demur; she'd only given her viewpoint. "Yeah. You can go back to your planning now. I can figure the rest out for myself."
The gazes went from Trey to Liv and back again.
"Thanks," he said. "But your permission isn't necessary. Nor is your disrespect. If you wanted a spankin', you could have just asked for it."
Liv swallowed a lump of lettuce that tried to stick in her throat. A frisson snaked down her spine. "Spanking?"
"Yeah, you heard me right. Go out to the truck."
"But I'm eating my dinner."
"And you can finish your dinner after."
Liv put her fork down and glanced at Laura, Mark and Rosaria. They were all wide-eyed. When she turned back to Trey, his look made her feel like a naughty little girl. Her father used to look at her like that if she'd done something stupid. But that was a long, long time ago. No one else had ever looked at her like he was ready to teach her a lesson.
"You can't be serious, Trey!"
He nodded, his look tight, despite the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, but I am. Go out to the truck."
If she cooperated, she'd be spanked, as sure as the moon shifted the tides. If she didn't cooperate, she'd close off any possible relationship with Trey. And, that was really the bigger question than the spanking. The spanking was like a commitment to submit to him. She'd be giving up control. And a lifetime of control was a hard thing to overcome. The experience would be humiliating, announced so publicly here with his friends, but the fact was, she'd enjoyed the swats she'd had from Trey before.
She looked at his brown eyes, so focused on her. He waited patiently, turning once to sip at the tequila he'd hardly touched, but then shifting back in his chair to look at her.
Liv tossed her napkin on the table and rose stiffly from the chair, forcing her back ramrod straight, holding all the dignity she could muster in the rigidity of her shoulders. As she marched out, she heard the scrape of Trey's chair and his assurances that they'd return to the table in a moment. Mark murmured a response, but Liv couldn't make out what it was.
She considered her options.
As she approached the door to the truck, Liv examined her attitude. Yes, she'd been snippy at Trey. Maybe even disrespectful. He hadn't said anything particularly offensive, after all. She'd been uncomfortable and she'd taken it out on him. Not nice and not bright.
She'd gotten herself into this situation. As she saw it, there were only two choices: submit to the spanking and find out where it led, or go back to the ranch and wave goodbye to Trey. The thing was, she liked him, really liked him. He was fun and interesting, polite, intelligent. And, even though she had to return to New York at the end of the week, she had a romantic dream that he'd want to continue the relationship. If so, they'd work it out.
But, she'd have to submit and give up some control.
Maybe the spanking could be used as a test of her tenacity. If she got through the spanking without calling the cops, then maybe, maybe she could give up more significant control. Maybe even explore one of those x-frames or sub comforts. Orgasms as rewards—she have liked to get some of that with their last encounter.
Trey unlocked and opened the back passenger door for her. She climbed in. The truck was a large one, with a cab that could hold five grown men. Trey slid in beside her.
It was dark and she couldn't see him too well in the light of a blinking neon sign, but she heard him perfectly when he said, "Pull down your pants."
It seemed abrupt. "No lecture? No reprimand?" His eyes narrowed and she knew she'd made things worse.
"You’re a clever girl, Liv. You already know what you did. So mind me. Or we can call it a night, I’ll take you back to the ranch and we go our separate ways."
He really meant it, too. There was a pulse in the hard plane of his jaw.
"I'm sorry. I'm not behaving very well. Do we have to do this?"
"Yeah, we have to. I don’t date women who disrespect others. It suggests they don’t respect themselves."
Liv was afraid. Not really of him, but of being put in a physically vulnerable position. She also knew that he'd see her ass if she pulled down her pants, and that gave her pause. It was no longer the pair of perfectly muscled bumps that it had been a few years prior.
"Liv?"
It was time to decide. She squirmed on the padded leather bench seat, unfastening her linen pants and then pulling them down to mid-thigh.
"Now come over my knees."
Liv face flamed. But at the same time, incredibly, there was a surge of excitement in her pussy and a roiling in her lower belly. She recognized the symptoms of sexual excitement, and that made her more scared than ever—of herself.
She put herself over his lap, feeling truly mortified at being head down and butt up over a man's lap. Mortification didn't stop her nipples from getting hard.
As she tried to calm her breathing and get ready to be smacked, his warm hand glided across her bottom. He stroked over her bikini panties gently. Her arousal increased and her attempt to calm her breathing was lost in the moment of sensation.
He slid his fingers under the waistband of her panties and pulled them down.
"You didn't say anything about bare bottom, Trey!" Her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat.
"Hush, darlin'. You'll get what you deserve and not one thing more or less."
Her panties and pants got pulled down to her knees. The ignominy of her position made Liv wet between the legs. That added to her embarrassment. He was sure to notice with her in this position.
He rubbed her bottom for a full minute and when Liv's tension had almost reached a breaking point, he slapped her rear hard.
She squeaked and shifted on his lap. He held her steady with his right hand and struck again with his left. Once again, she squeaked.
He smacked her several more times, and whimpers heated her throat and face. The pain was sharp, hot, intense as he kept spanking her. He moved his punishment to her thighs and sit spots and she cried out. Was that her voice? She sounded so plaintive, on the verge of begging him to stop.
But she didn't really want him to stop. Her pussy was as hot as her ass, burning and weeping with need. She wanted him to flip her over and let her straddle his hips. He would thrust so deeply, soothe that trembling ache in her quim.
Her eyes began to tear as the pain ratcheted ever higher. Her ass and thighs were on fire. She'd never felt anything so incredibly compelling—to stop, to go on—in her life. Teetering on the edge for several long moments, Liv panted and wriggled.
"If you want me to stop, darlin', you only need to say so and it'll be over." He briefly touched the pool of wetness that was dripping from her excited sex onto his thigh. "I'm thinkin' that you want me to keep goin'."
Sobbing, she could only gasp as he went back to spanking her.
"You gonna be a good girl the rest of the night, Liv?"
She nodded, then whispered her agreement.
"I can feel you gettin’ close to comin’, darlin'."
"Oh God," she moaned.
She wanted the pain to stop, but it was so integral to the growing need in her pussy. Just a little more. Another spank, maybe two, and she'd be there. She moaned and turned her face back to see if she could spy her rump.
There was a bright flash of light and Trey stopped. "Shit!"
She squirmed up some, and her throat was thick when she asked, "What? What's wrong?"
"Someone to
ok a picture through the window!"
"No! Oh no!"
Trey was pushing her onto the back seat, as he scurried to get to the driver's seat of the truck.
"Put on a seatbelt, Liv!" The truck roared to life and the tires squealed as they shot out of the parking place and out onto the road.
In the back, Liv jounced and rocked violently, clawing her way into a seat as she pulled her panties and pants up. Her flaming rear screamed as she sat down on it and buckled the seatbelt.
"Do you see him?"
"Yes! A little white sports car," Trey told her. "He got a bit of a head start, though. I don’t know if we'll catch up."
"You have to!"
He nodded, shoulders tense as he steered the speeding truck.
There was a deep dip in the road as they went down a small hill and toward another hill. Their view of the farther rise was clear, but not what was on the other side. As they found the deepest part of the dip between the two, the white car made it to the other side of the hill and they lost sight of it. When they crested the rise, it was gone.
Liv was frantic. Her career would be over! She'd be a laughingstock and those that weren't pointing and laughing would be pointing and denigrating her. She could imagine the headlines on the National Investigator, "Supermodel Gets Spanked!"
"Oh God," she moaned as the truck slowed.
"I'm sorry, Liv." His voice was tired, tight.
"I can't believe this is happening."
"I'm sorry," he said again. "It's my fault. I'll think of some way to get you out of it." He turned the truck and headed back the way they'd come. "Maybe we can say that the woman in the picture looked a bit like you, but it wasn't really you."
"Who's going to believe that when it's public knowledge that I'm here near Sonora doing a shoot?"
"You're right. We're screwed."
"I'm screwed, you mean. This isn't going to hurt your reputation one bit."
He turned back to her quickly and then shifted back to focus on the road. "You think army majors go around spankin’ women for public pictures?"
She thought about that for a few seconds. Wasn't there some sort of military code about "an officer and a gentleman"? Surely, "gentleman" precluded spankings in public.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think of that. I guess we're both in hot water."
Liv's Journey Page 4
