Disciplining Little Abby

by Serafine Laveaux

  Amanda’s rapidly shifting attention zoomed to the goodie basket on the desk. Peering at the contents, she gave an appreciative whistle. “I don’t know who sent you this, but they’re all kinds of awesome in my book. Seriously, when I decided to quit everyone was like, ‘Aw, that’s great Manda. Hey, hope you don’t mind if we smoke right in front of you!’ Or else they were placing bets on how long I’d last. Much like the ones that are getting placed on you now.” Laughing, she waved a hand towards the far end of the room. “I put twenty on you succeeding and I intend to collect, so don’t let me down!”

  Abby looked where Amanda had waved and saw three people watching her. Two quickly pantomimed holding cigarettes and smoking while the third grinned and gave her a thumbs up. She scowled back and flipped them her middle finger, which sent them all into gales of laughter.

  “I hadn’t planned to quit,” she admitted as she turned back around. Her fingers traced along the edge of the gift basket as she remembered the sound of Chris’ voice when he told her she would be giving up smoking. Without warning, she recalled the sensation of Chris’ thumb slipping into her mouth and the promise of what would happen if she broke rule number one. The memory sent a warm shiver through her. “Something came up last night that convinced me I had to,” she said as she pictured him pulling her down across his knee and imagined the feel of his hand as he caressed her bare bottom.

  “Oh wow. I hope it wasn’t anything bad!”

  The sincerity in her voice pulled Abby out of her daydream. She was used to hearing her coworkers mouth platitudes whenever someone took ill or had a hardship, but whereas they always sounded like they were simply following a script, it was clear Amanda genuinely cared. Something told her they would soon become good friends.

  “No, actually, it was something good,” Abby admitted, pulling a nicotine patch from the basket and sticking it to her chest just under her collar. Leaning forward, she motioned for Amanda to come closer. “I met someone. A guy,” she said in a low voice so no one else would hear.

  “I knew it!” Amanda whispered back excitedly. Pulling over a chair from an empty cubical, she eagerly took a seat and reached out to grab Abby’s hands. “Tell me it was that gorgeous creature who brought you the balloons yesterday!” Amanda’s delight was infectious. Abby nodded, covering her flushed cheeks with her hands and hoping no one would pay attention to how flustered she was. Her efforts backfired. The harder she tried to stay composed, the more excited she became, until she could no longer hold the giggles back. Amanda squealed happily, clearly unconcerned with what the rest of the office might think. Next thing they knew, they were both bouncing up and down in their seats with glee.

  Although she normally kept her private affairs to herself, Abby quickly found herself telling Amanda all about Chris Antonopoulos and the undeniable reaction her body had to him. She admitted she’d used a dating service that someone had referred her to, but carefully left out any details that might indicate anything out of the ordinary. Admitting how his touch made her skin tingle with anticipation was embarrassing enough; no way was she going to admit anything about the rules, or being spanked if she broke them. It was hard enough admitting to herself how much the thought of him disciplining her turned her on.

  “He moved like a panther,” Amanda said wistfully. Abby knew what she meant. Being around him was like being stalked and studied by something large and powerful… and hungry. On the surface there was nothing threatening about him, but underneath that warm, safe exterior she sensed the warmth could turn to fire in the blink of an eye. She wondered what it would feel like to lay her head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

  “I can’t stop thinking about him,” she admitted. “Between wanting a smoke and thinking about him, I can’t get anything done.”

  For the first time since she’d come to work at the paper, Abby began to feel a connection to a coworker. Amanda was energy times ten, and Abby suspected she had ADD, but the warmth and enthusiasm was sincere and it felt like they’d been friends for years. They’d exchanged phone numbers, and Amanda made her promise to call if the urge to pick up a cigarette ever got too strong. When their boss yelled across the room for them to quit gossiping and get to work, Abby was startled to realize they’d been talking for almost an hour. Amanda made a face and hurried off, shooting one last grin over her shoulder before returning to her cubicle.

  Abby turned back to her computer screen and pretended to study the open document, but the truth was she had nothing to do for the remainder of the day. Her work had all been done and what little she had in her inbox could wait until Monday. At least the patch is starting to work, she thought with relief. The need for nicotine had subsided, but the constant thoughts of Chris were causing another desire to take over. With a guilty glance around the room, Abby left her desk and headed down the hall to the ladies’ restroom.

  Locking herself inside the end stall, she sat down and closed her eyes as she imagined the two of them on the couch at Spectrum, only this time they weren’t talking. In her mind he crushed her to his strong chest as his lips hungrily engulfed her own, their tongues intertwined as he pressed her back against the couch. Her fingertips slipped beneath her blouse and bra, and she imagined they were his as they teased and squeezed her nipples. In a daze of lust, she let her hands become his. They roamed across her breasts and belly, caressing and grasping as desire coursed through her body. One hand left her sensitive nipples to slip eagerly beneath the waistband of her panties and begin twirling lightly around her pulsing clit. She was already drenched, and as her fingers expertly stroked and twirled and slipped inside, she imagined it was Chris touching her so intimately.

  She imagined his blue-green eyes fixated on her, boring into her soul as he pleasured her, kissing her nipples and dipping lightly between her wet folds to probe her wet depths. The earlier chill she’d felt in the office was rapidly replaced by a growing fever that burned like fire between her clenching thighs as she recalled his scent, raw and masculine, and imagined the feel of his dreads falling across her breasts . The intensity of her imagination surprised her, but she yielded as eagerly to it as she did the powerful ripples that had begun to radiate from her drenched entrance. Within seconds, the arousal that had been simmering for days reached a fevered peak, and she felt herself fading. Without realizing it, she moaned his name softly as she heard him calling her name, and his words echoed in her mind. I knew when I saw you that you would be mine. As her back arched and her head fell back, the climax shot through every fiber of her being and she exploded from within.

  She was still slumped against the side of the stall when the phone Chris had given her went off. Her hands felt weak and uncoordinated as she pulled it from her pocket, nearly dropping it twice before she finally managed to answer it.

  “Hello?” She blushed, wondering if he noticed how breathless and shaky she sounded.

  “Hey, babygirl, did you like the basket?”

  “You’re a life saver,” she replied truthfully. “I haven’t had a smoke since last night, and I was about to climb the walls when it came. The gum helped a little, and I just put a patch on.” And I just gave myself the fastest orgasm in history thinking about you, she thought, stifling a giggle.

  “Good girl. The patch will take a few hours to have any effect, but you can manage until then.”

  Abby closed her eyes as his voice began to rekindle the heat within her overly sensitive flesh. Even his voice was seductive as it washed over her like a river determined to drag her under. She realized her thoughts had been filled with water metaphors since they’d first met. Probably because of his eyes, she mused. Those swirling ocean eyes. A girl could get lost in them.

  “Well?”

  She hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “Sorry, I was switching ears. Say it again?”

  “Promise me that if it gets too hard, if you think you just have to have a smoke, that you’ll call me, okay? I’ll talk you through it, even come over if that’s what i
t takes.”

  “I promise, but you may not get any work done. I’ve already chewed up every pen in the building.”

  “That bad?” Abby heard Chris sigh softly and wondered if she said the wrong thing. Maybe he had expected her to be tougher about it. Before she could backtrack, he spoke up again.

  “Listen, I had plans for us tonight, but I wasn’t thinking. We’d be going somewhere with a lot of people smoking. That’s going to be really tough on you, and I should have thought of that ahead of time. What do you think? Are you up for it? If not, I’ll find something else for us to do.”

  Not smoking was one thing, but not smoking in a room full of smokers? Closing her eyes, she tried to picture standing in a smoke-filled bar next to him. For some reason she couldn’t seem to put a shirt on him in the vision. That’s the trick, she thought dryly. I’ll forget all about smoking if he’ll just go shirtless.

  “Abby?”

  “It’ll be hard, but I think I can deal.”

  “Great, then I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. I need your address.”

  Abby’s breath caught in her throat. Chris had just thrown a monkey wrench into her safety net. “Um, won’t you just be picking me up at Mr. Green’s place?”

  “No, I’m picking you up at your place. That’s what people going on dates do.”

  “Well yeah, but—”

  “We discussed this with Mr. Green and as I recall, you agreed,” he said flatly. “I’m not picking you up at Spectrum, Abby. End of discussion.”

  “Okay… Daddy.” Her stomach churned with an uneasy mix of nervous energy and excitement. She didn’t remember agreeing not to meet at Spectrum but suspected that was what he and Mr. Green had been discussing when she was daydreaming about Chris. No wonder Mr. Green looked so unhappy, she thought. He wanted us where he could watch us. She wasn’t sure if the idea of supervised dates was comforting or creepy, but she could have kicked herself for not doing more research on Mr. Green’s organization or what she was getting herself into.

  Chris’ voice softened and his tone became gentle. “You’ll just have to trust me, babygirl. I know you’re probably a little scared, but it’ll be okay. Now, what’s your address?”

  Suddenly, everything began to feel very real. As she gave him directions to her apartment, she wondered what on earth he could possibly see in her. The attraction she felt for him was not only undeniable, but easy to understand. He was deadly handsome with a streak of dangerous. On the surface he was charming and fun, but Abby easily sensed the iron will behind those twinkling blue-green eyes. The idea that he was a man, all man, and wouldn’t hesitate to take control of her if he so chose was part of what took her breath away.

  But what was his excuse? Did he really find her attractive, or was he only interested in seeing her play the innocent young girl in some twisted fantasy he’d dreamed up? She knew exactly how her mother would react. As far as Elizabeth Joan was concerned, Abby was little more than a magnet for perverts and pedophiles, and she made no effort to conceal her opinion on the subject.

  As she warred with her emotions, Chris reminded her to bring along the gum and suckers and told her wear something similar to what she’d had on the night before. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, I promise,” he assured her. The soothing sound of his voice wrapped around her like a blanket, making her fears seem absurd. What am I afraid of? she wondered, suddenly angry with herself. I’ve gone out on dates before. It’s not like I need a chaperone.

  After they said their goodbyes, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and left the bathroom. It wasn’t until she’d sat back down at her desk that she realized it wasn’t Chris that she didn’t fully trust.

  It was herself.

  Too many times she’d fallen head over heels for someone, only to be left a devastated wreck wondering what happened. Sometimes they were nice about it, assuring her that the fault was their own. Others weren’t so nice, complaining that she was too needy or clingy or worse, echoing her mother’s opinion that she needed to grow up. The dirty cheerleader or naughty schoolgirl they liked; the little girl with the crayons and stuffed animals, not so much. With each new person, she’d sworn to take it slow and not let herself fall in love until she was one hundred percent sure they could really accept her, but every time she’d done just the opposite. Eventually she’d stopped trying to meet someone and had learned to bottle up her emotions, to hide the desperate need to be loved that seemed to do nothing more than drive them away.

  The fact that he knew her darkest secret combined with the electrifying effect he had on her was terrifying. The pull she had felt towards him from the moment he’d handed her the balloons was beyond anything she’d ever felt before, and it would take every bit of willpower she had to keep from falling so hard for Chris Antonopoulos that there would be no coming back.

  Chapter Five

  Once home, she fretted endlessly over what to wear. Her wardrobe was a mix of what Abby the Grownup was supposed to wear and what Abby the Not Grownup wanted to wear, much of the latter having been bought on impulse and never actually worn. Now that she finally had the chance, she couldn’t make a decision. At last she settled on a short white denim skirt that had a flouncy lace overlay, a navy blue sleeveless hoodie with a sea foam green logo for some bar and grill she’d never actually been to, and a pair of navy All Star Converse high tops. It was a far cry from her usual Abby Sciuto inspired attire, but she’d seen a girl at the skate park wearing something similar once and had fallen in love with it. It hadn’t taken her long to track the outfit down, and at long last she was getting to wear it.

  Grabbing a small tan backpack, she quickly stuffed her blankee in it, then slipped her driver’s license and some cash into one of the side pockets. Mr. Green had said that Chris would be responsible for paying for everything during their time together, but he’d also said their first meetings would be at his place, and Abby no longer knew what to expect anymore. Having her blankee along, even if it was hidden inside her backpack, would help her feel more secure.

  Right on time, Chris pulled up to the front of her building on an impossibly stretched, low slung blue chopper. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white tank, with faded jeans pulling down snug over scuffed, black Doc Martins. Abby felt an electric jolt run through her as he stared at her from behind mirrored aviator shades.

  Oh, Mom is gonna hate him. The idea made her giggle. As she stepped up to the bike, she noticed the thin material of his shirt let the faint shadow of a tattoo over his heart show through, and she had to fight to keep from reaching out to pull the shirt up to see what it was.

  He held a hand out to her, and she took it, balancing against him as she swung one leg over the rumbling chopper to straddle the narrow seat that flowed up and over the rear fender. Once in place, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against the back of his neck, closing her eyes as she inhaled the seductive scent of his cologne.

  “Wear this,” he ordered, handing back a helmet he’d had hanging on the handlebars. It was black with purple and silver skulls airbrushed across it. She squealed with delight at the sight. “I thought you might like the design,” he grinned as he helped buckle it on.

  “Where’s yours?” she demanded, but he’d released the throttle at the same instant she’d spoken and her words were lost in the menacing roar of the heavy cycle. As it surged forward, she tightened her grip around his waist, marveling at the rock-hard muscles beneath her hands and trying to imagine how the two of them looked together as they barreled down the streets. He shouted something back to her, but she couldn’t make out the words, and then they were on a turn and leaning hard to the left. For a moment her mind screamed for her to straighten up, but instinct took over and she pressed against him tighter than ever, leaning with him as they took the corner and then righting up once more as they shot down the straightaway.

  She was giddy with the speed and the overwhelming scents of leather and his cologne that conjured up i
mages of salt spray and white sands. The bike roared beneath them as it raced through traffic, leaning and whipping around cars as she clung tightly to him. It wasn’t until they came to a stoplight that the constant rumbling of the beast between her legs finally got her attention. With nothing more than a thin bit of silk between her and the warm, throbbing seat, the sensation was akin to straddling the world’s largest, most powerful vibrator. The combination of the rumbling seat, the intoxicating smell of Chris, and the feel of his tightly muscled abdomen beneath her hands was overwhelming. Despite the cool wind whipping against her face as they zoomed down the freeway, her cheeks began to burn as the growing ache between her thighs became almost unbearable. Abby couldn’t help but wriggle her bottom against the seat, praying Chris wouldn’t feel her uneven breathing against his back or hear the occasional whimper that slipped past her lips as she let the heavy vibrations fill her body.

  * * *

  Chris tried to concentrate on the traffic as they sped along, but it was impossible to ignore his passenger’s antics. She was practically glued to his back, and he wondered if she had any idea he could feel her subtle grinding against the seat. Grinning, he maneuvered the chopper between two cars and shot between them on the center strip, eliciting several angry honks from startled drivers and a startled gasp from Abby. Taking a hand off the handlebars, he placed it over Abby’s forearm and squeezed reassuringly for a moment before resuming his hold on the bike. He could have brought the car, but he was well aware of the effect the vibrating motorcycle had on female riders and intended to put it to good use. Judging by the death grip she had on his waist, it seemed it had also given her a bit of a scare. That was fine by him. A little bit of fear often heightened arousal, and if the heaving of her chest was any indication, Abby was plenty aroused.