Disciplining Little Abby

by Serafine Laveaux

  It so happened she was not only in the region but in his condo when he decided to reject the Willis application. The last thing he wanted to do was waste their precious time together on issues he was expected to handle himself, but without her approval he would be unable to reject Abby Willis.

  He hadn’t been prepared for her reaction, though in hindsight he realized he should have waited until the next morning. She hadn’t come to his apartment to pour through potential pairings and made no effort to hide her irritation. Ignoring his explanations, she’d snatched the files from his hand and flopped on the couch, rolling her eyes and groaning expressively.

  “I don’t see the problem, Ryan,” she’d snapped. “She doesn’t need a million rules, and it’s clear from his profile he’s not the sort who requires absolute obedience. Put them together and move on.”

  “She’ll be an unmitigated brat,” he protested unhappily. “And I can’t picture him setting boundaries, much less enforcing them.”

  “She’s a brat because everyone tries to force her to be something she’s not. She just needs someone who will give her the freedom and support to explore her true nature. He’s already been through all that and will understand. Send him her files already.”

  “But she’s so combative,” he’d pressed on. He knew he’d lost but wasn’t ready to concede yet. “I doubt they’ll last a week before she blows up and throws a chair at him.”

  Her only response had been to wave a hand dismissively at him and leave him alone with his files and doubts. Now he found himself dismissed once more.

  * * *

  Abby allowed Chris to lead her by the hand down the hall, the silence only broken by their footfalls in the plush carpet. Her heart fluttered at his hand wrapped around her own, and she stifled a surprised giggle at the unexpected butterflies in her belly. Tingles raced up and down her arms, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive.

  They went down the hall, rounded the corner, and then headed for an open doorway. Inside they found a large room with pinball machines and arcade games along one wall, snack and drink machines on the other, and assorted chairs and couches in between, but Abby barely noticed any of it. Images arose unbidden, strong and powerful, his strong hands pressing her back against a wall, the feel of his lips devouring her own. Without realizing it, her eyes had begun to close as she inhaled the masculine scent of his cologne.

  “Abby?”

  Her eyes flew open and she stared back at him, embarrassed. He stared questioningly at her, his hand poised over the selection buttons on the coke machine as he waited for her response.

  “Um, Diet Coke?”

  Grinning, he got two sodas from the machine, then led her to the couch in the middle of the room.

  “That guy, he means well, but he’s all about rules and procedures,” Chris said as he settled into the couch and took a sip from the can. “I get that a lot of their clients want someone to control every aspect of their lives, but I’m not into that, and I don’t think that’s what you really want either. Am I right?”

  She nodded but her attention focused on the way his eyebrows perfectly framed his eyes more than on his words.

  “He’s sent me portfolios before, but no one that really caught my eye. To be honest, I was about to call him up and tell him to pull me out of the system. Then he sent me your files, and well—” He paused for a moment while he looked for the right words. “A lot of the women he tried to pair me with were really just children in adult bodies. They were all lovely, but you, you’re something different. Unique. I think you’re perfect.”

  “My mother and older sister would argue that point,” she scoffed. “They would be the first to tell you I’m an utter failure.”

  “I doubt that,” he laughed. “A challenge, perhaps, but certainly not a failure.”

  “It’s the truth,” she insisted. “You come to one of our monthly family dinners, and I promise you, the dinner won’t end before at least one of them has reminded me that I should get a real job, buy a real car, and grow up.”

  “Well in that case, fuck their opinions,” he spat, and the steel in his voice sent a delicious shiver up her spine. “Being different does not make you a failure. As far as I’m concerned, it makes you exciting.” He reached out to cup her chin, turning her face to meet his intense gaze. The heat rising in her cheeks seemed reflected in the cool blue depths of his eyes, and she felt herself melt against his palm. It felt strange to be so at ease with him, and she felt none of the embarrassment she normally did around men she found attractive. The strange sense of security was almost intoxicating.

  “I knew when I saw you this afternoon that you would be mine. You felt it too,” he added. His thumb gently teased her lips, then slipped between them. Instinctively her tongue darted forward, tasting his warm skin as she tried to suck his thumb into her hungry mouth. A knowing look passed over his face, and he leaned back, taking his thumb with him.

  Abby was shocked to hear a frustrated whimper slip from her lips. Struggling to regain her composure, she tried to steer the conversation to something safe.

  “Where do we go from here?” she asked, wincing at the noticeable tremble in her voice. She wanted nothing more than to project a cool demeanor, but her body seemed determined to betray her at every turn. “Mr. Green said there’d be a contract between us, and if I didn’t do everything you said, I’d be punished. What’s up with that?”

  “Not as draconian as he makes it out to be, though I’m sure with some people it is.” He rested an arm across the back of the couch and caught one of her ponytails. The black strands cascaded between his fingers like a dark river, telegraphing his touch through their roots clear down the side of her sensitive neck. “I’m pretty easy going, but I do have some rules I expect you to follow without question, the first of which is no more smoking. It’s a disgusting habit and one you will end immediately if we agree to move forward.”

  No smoking? Abby felt her jaw clench. She’d been smoking for nearly twelve years, had tried to stop a few times and failed miserably. How could he expect her to quit cold turkey?

  “What if I can’t just quit like that? What if I have to have one every now and then?” The tremor had returned to her voice.

  “Then you’ll find yourself bent over my knee, with that pretty skirt flipped up, and my hand blistering your bare bottom.”

  Abby’s eyes widened. Of all the things she’d imagined, spanking had never occurred to her. Spanking had always been a last resort for punishment in the Willis household. The majority of her childhood punishments had involved writing out her crimes and apologies on paper until her wrist threatened to spasm, or sitting quietly in corners, or being forced to go ignored by the entire family for however long her mother felt was necessary. The handful of times when she’d been spanked had been extremely unpleasant and extremely painful.

  At last the nature of the arrangement became crystal clear. She’d known from the start it wasn’t Match.com she’d signed up for, but it wasn’t until that moment that she truly understood. Her face flushed as she imagined herself sprawled across his lap with her bare ass in the air, being spanked like a naughty child. For a moment she thought of ending the whole thing, saying no and leaving as fast as her feet could carry her to the front door. Except, the image of her upturned cheeks growing red beneath his palm didn’t invoke fear as much as it did excitement. Already a familiar ache had begun to build between her thighs.

  “What are the rules?” The tremor in her voice had been replaced by a squeak.

  “Number one, absolutely no smoking. Number two, home in bed by midnight unless you’re with me or you’ve gotten my permission beforehand. Number three, no lying. Four, I’ll give you a private cell. If it rings, it’s from me and I expect you to answer it immediately. Finally, number five, when I tell you to do something, do it.”

  “That’s rather vague. You could tell me to set myself on fire.”

  “Not likely, but if I tell you I
want you to put on a certain outfit and go out to dinner with me, I expect you to do it. If I decide you might be catching a cold and tell you to pull down your panties so I can take your temperature, I expect you to do as you’re told.”

  She stared at him in confusion. “My panties?”

  “It’s much more accurate that way,” he replied.

  OMG, he means he’ll take it in my bottom! Abby’s hands flew to her mouth at the very idea. “I’m never going to be sick again,” she vowed immediately, causing Chris to laugh. “So it’s what, like an arranged marriage? He puts us together and we’re supposed to be this instant couple? What’s in it for me if I say yes? Spankings and a father figure?”

  “Something like that.” He shrugged. “If you’re not interested, we can end this now. But if you are—” Chris leaned forward and grasped her hands in his. “Say yes and I promise you’ll never hear me tell you to grow up. You can lie on the floor watching cartoons and sucking your thumb if that’s what you need. I’ll never judge you.” He raised her hands to his lips, sending electric sparks up each finger as his mouth brushed against it. As he reached the last one, his grip tightened possessively as his eyes rose to meet hers. “Say yes, Abby,” he urged. “I can give you what you need.”

  The paperwork only consisted of four pages, outlining the rules he’d already laid out in the game room and explaining that she would be kept under constant surveillance until such time as both parties requested it be ended. It didn’t specify exactly how the organization would be keeping an eye on her, but it made it clear her activities would be monitored at all times and any indiscretions would be promptly reported. Rather than be offended or annoyed, she found the idea of being constantly watched over surprisingly reassuring.

  Mr. Green’s exasperation seemed to have eased up somewhat, particularly when Abby asked about the rules of using the facilities. Chris might send her stomach into flip-flops whenever his ocean eyes fell upon her, but the logical side of her brain insisted she get to know him better before telling him where she lived.

  “The facility is available 24/7 for members, and I expect you to make use of it particularly during the first few months, for everyone’s safety. All we ask is you call ahead and inform us of your visit,” he assured her. “Of course, if we have notified Mr. Antonopoulos of a problem with your behavior, we’ll assume a visit is imminent and no further notification will be required.

  The image of being bent over Chris’ lap with her bare bottom in the air resurfaced, and as her pulse quickened, she wondered if his tattoos extended to his thighs as well. The conversation around her faded and grew jumbled as she imagined him standing shirtless before her, pictured her grasping the waistband of his low slung jeans and easing it down over his hips, letting them fall to the floor and leaving him naked and tanned and inked before her. She imagined the gold and brown and blonde twisted dreads tumbling wildly over his shoulders, pictured his tanned nipples growing rigid beneath her fingertips, saw his full lips part slightly as he leaned forward—

  “Miss Willis?”

  Mr. Green’s sharp tone snapped her out of her fantasy, and she looked up to find both men staring expectantly at her. “Sure, sounds great,” she offered quickly, hoping the generic response would cover all her bases.

  “Well, I can’t force you,” Mr. Green sighed, “though I do wish you’d reconsider, particularly in the early part of your relationship.”

  Reconsider what? What did I just agree to? A slender finger of fear wormed its way into Abby’s stomach as she realized Mr. Green’s look of annoyance had given way to one of concern, and apparently it was directed towards her. She started to speak up, to admit she didn’t know what they’d been talking about and make them repeat the conversation, but then Chris took her hand and the shivers that raced up her arm chased away the fear. Without another word, he led her from the building to the car waiting outside.

  He waived the driver away from the car door and helped her into the sedan himself, pressing a cell phone into her hand as she slipped inside. “My number is already in it,” he told her. “Give me a call when you get home so I know you’ve made it safely.”

  She nodded once and then pulled back as he shut the door and motioned for the driver to take her home. Leaning her head against the back of the seat, she let her eyelids sag shut and tried to process all that had happened in the short time she’d spent inside. Chris Antonopoulos was more than she could have hoped for. Handsome, sexy, maybe even a little dangerous. The tattoos and wild hair certainly lent him an untamed, unpredictable air. She never would have imagined blue eyes could burn so hotly, and his touch was electric. He brought me balloons.

  So why did Mr. Green seem so concerned? Was it because Chris didn’t lay out a bunch of rules for her to follow? Or was it because he didn’t follow Mr. Green’s own rules and played the game how he wanted to? The more she thought about it, the more the latter seemed to make sense. By the time the car pulled up in front of her apartment, she had convinced herself that Mr. Green had simply been upset that his usual protocols hadn’t been observed.

  As she headed up the walk to her door, she pulled up the contact list on her new phone. The only name listed was Daddy, and she quickly pressed the call button. He answered on the second ring, just as she was letting herself into her apartment, and she felt her heart jump at the sound of his voice. A strange mix of emotions seized her then—an inordinate sense of pride in following his instructions and an eager hope that he would be proud of her for doing so. The emotion carried over into her voice as she spoke up.

  “Hey, Daddy, I’m home.”

  Chapter Four

  Fridays at work were generally relaxed thanks to the bulk of the production department’s job being done for the week, but the lack of nicotine was quickly taking its toll on Abby’s mood. She’d woken up full of positive determination, but by nine found herself contemplating a quick smoke in the bathroom. Surely they’d never know, she tried to convince herself. It’s the bathroom. Who would see me?

  She was just about to make a break for it when one of the receptionists came back carrying a basket containing an assortment of sugar free gums, electronic cigarettes, assorted flavors of suckers, and nicotine patches.

  “Looks like someone’s quitting,” she grinned as she placed it on Abby’s desk. “A delivery guy just dropped it off a few minutes ago, though I’m sorry to report it wasn’t that sexy beast that was here a few days ago.” She pretended to fan herself with her hand and laughed. It was obvious Chris had made quite an impression on the female members of the staff.

  As Abby rifled through the basket, a small crowd began to gather, and word of Abby’s resolution to stop smoking spread like wildfire throughout the building. Within minutes, a spirited argument broke out over whether or not she could last past the first twenty-four hours without a cigarette.

  “I give her until noon.”

  “I say five. She’ll last the day and grab one in the parking lot.”

  Ignoring her coworkers’ gleeful predictions of failure, she dug the card out of the basket and scanned the note Chris had sent.

  Good morning babygirl! Just a little something to help you be good. I’ll call you at lunch to see how you’re doing.

  Chris

  Abby quickly popped two strips of gum in her mouth, but they did little to ease her growing cravings. An hour later she tried a grape flavored sucker, then a lemon one, but the gnawing desire for a smoke was becoming overwhelming. She longed to try one of the electronic cigarettes, but they’d been banned from office areas ever since someone complained about the smell.

  Unable to concentrate on her work, she wandered into the break room and stood in front of the vending machine, staring without seeing at the snacks within. She was about to get a bag of Cheetos when she remembered one of the HR employees who had given up smoking the year before and promptly put on sixty pounds from all the snacking that took its place. The thought of even her fat pants no longer zipping convinced her
to return to her desk, but nothing seemed able to divert her attention from the urge to light up. Her work was done for the day. She played a few games of Candy Crush, but even that failed to keep her mind occupied.

  “Try the patches. Seriously, before you have no pens left. Or before you give up and I lose twenty bucks.”

  Abby looked up to see a woman in her early twenties standing next to her, then looked down to the well-gnawed pen clutched in her hand. She didn’t even remember picking it up.

  “I know what you’re going through,” the woman continued. “I quit last year, and I never could have done it without the patches. I swear they really work. Just peel and stick it anywhere that doesn’t bend a lot. Like your chest, or your back. And just one!” she added, wagging a finger at Abby. “I’ve seen people stick like, five on themselves at a time, but that’s not healthy. I’m Amanda, by the way. I just started in layout last week. Oh my God, are you cold? This place is like a furnace! I’m always begging for them to turn the heat down.”

  Abby looked down to see she’d been pulling her blankee out of the bottom drawer during Amanda’s rapid fire chatter. “Um, yeah, I guess I’m cold natured,” she lied, draping the reassuring throw over her lap. Just being able to touch it seemed to ease the cravings. “I’m Abby.”

  “I know. They told me you’re the one with the NCIS obsession.”

  Abby’s brow furrowed as she wondered what else they’d said. For the most part, her coworkers ignored her beyond the occasional hello when passing in the hall or break room. They were never rude or did anything to make her think they disliked her, but she knew they considered her something of an oddity. She studied Amanda’s expression but sensed no ridicule or meanness in her attitude.