Taught to Kneel

by Natasha Knight

  When he shifted his body, she sat up, kneeling alongside him, a hand covering her mouth.

  He stood and zipped his pants, all the while watching her as she knelt on the bed, her eyes wide on his.

  With one hand on the top of her head, he gave his first command: “Swallow.”

  She didn't hesitate, but did as he said.

  “Good girl,” he said, buckling his belt. “I’m hungry. Have dinner with me.”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I need a shower,” she answered even though it wasn't really a question.

  “I’ll wait.” He helped her to her feet and sat on the couch while she washed and dressed. He noted the fact that she didn’t try to hide her body as she moved around the room applying makeup, choosing a dress, strapping her sandals in place.

  She turned to him. “Ready,” she said.

  She wore a pale taupe colored silk dress that clung to her delicate curves and came to just above her knees. Three-inch sandals in the same color and long earrings that reached her shoulders finished the look. Her hair, still somewhat damp, was held in a jeweled clip at the back of her head and he imagined she struggled with the unruly mass as long tendrils already fell around her shoulders.

  “Luciana's holding a table for us,” he said.

  “How did you know I would say yes?” she asked.

  He grinned, “I had a feeling.”

  “Julian,” she hesitated when they got to the door. “What happened just now…”

  “Was fantastic. I enjoyed it thoroughly and I think you did too,” he finished for her, gesturing for her to go ahead of him.

  She looked like she was going to say something but changed her mind and preceded him out the door. They walked in silence to the main building and to their waiting table.

  Chapter Two

  Luciana set the bottle of wine on their table on the patio of the restaurant. The night was clear, just as Gabrielle always remembered them to be, with some lights in the distance but dark enough that the sky glowed with stars. There were two other tables with couples quietly eating their meals but they were far enough away that all were offered privacy.

  Julian picked up his glass and sipped. “I saw you earlier,” he said.

  “Earlier?” she asked, tasting the wine.

  “On your way to the swimming pool. You watched them, the couple there.”

  She turned to discover that the couple she'd seen earlier in the day sat at one of the tables. Her face flaming red, she returned her gaze to his, unsure what to say.

  “I'm not judging you. I only wanted you to know that I saw.”

  “Why were you watching me?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “I don't know anything about you,” she said, trying to make sense of what was happening between them. “What we did earlier, I've never done… those things… with a stranger.”

  “I don't think we'll be strangers long. Tell me, why are you here alone, Gabrielle? What brings a woman like you to a place like this alone?”

  She searched around her, taking another sip of wine. He remained studying her, his eyes not unkind. She wanted to tell him the truth, to let him see her. Would he want to have anything to do with her once he learned what kind of woman she was? Or was pushing him away just another way of punishing herself?

  “I used to come here with my husband,” she said, taking a large sip of wine as he digested this information. Whatever he thought, he hid it well as he remained watching, waiting for her to continue. “He left two years ago and this is the first time I’ve returned here.”

  “I see,” he said.

  “I don’t know that it’s… fair… for me to be here with another man in my bed.”

  “Fair?” he asked, just as Luciana served their starter: a plate of various meats with olives and crusty bread.

  He offered her some of the meat. She took it although hunger wasn’t what she was feeling at the moment. “Thank you.”

  He took a bite but didn't say anything more which made her even more uncomfortable.

  “What brings a man like you here alone?” she asked. She'd always been good at answering questions with questions when she didn't want to give away too much.

  “I'm not in a relationship. My wife and I divorced a few years back and I wanted to take a few days away.”

  “Where are you from?” she asked. “You have an accent but your English is perfect.”

  He smiled. “Thank you. I'm French, actually. I've lived in Paris the last few years but am originally from the southern part of the country. You?”

  “I love Paris,” she said, relaxing a little now that the conversation had grown more casual. “I live in Florida but am originally from Denver. I often have work in Amsterdam and managed to schedule a few days here during this trip.”

  “You used to come with your husband?” He took a bite of food.

  She nodded. “We honeymooned here and came back every summer. We… I love it.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  Her eyes grew wide and she choked on the bite in her mouth. He reached out to rub her back while she brought her napkin to her lips.

  “You're direct,” she said, coughing.

  He handed her the water glass and she drank half of the contents.

  “I don't want to talk about the weather with you, Gabrielle,” he said.

  “And I don’t want to talk about my ex-husband with you,” she replied, her tone more harsh than she intended.

  His look told her she sounded as rude to him as she did to her own ears. He picked up his knife and fork and brought his attention to his plate.

  “I'm sorry, that was rude.” She reached out to touch his leg. “I’m sorry.” She was so tired of those two words. Would she ever be free of their power over her? She folded her napkin and went to rise but he placed his hand on her knee.

  “Sit down,” he said, his voice different.

  She did, her pale eyes on his black ones.

  “When I told you earlier that I wanted to help you, I meant it. I can see you're in some pain,” he said, causing her eyes to well up again. “And I imagine from what you've said that it has to do with your ex-husband. My wife left me some years back, Gabrielle. She had an affair and although I could forgive her, she couldn't forgive herself. Her inability to accept my forgiveness and, in turn, forgive herself, cost us both, cost our family. I understood a few years later that what she needed wasn't only my forgiveness. She wanted—she needed—to be punished for her actions in order to be free of her guilt. I failed her there, but I've learned my lesson and have put the past in its place. What about you, Gabrielle? Have you forgiven yourself or does guilt hold you tight in its grip?”

  His words confronted her and she stared back at him. His gaze never faltered.

  She could get up and walk away now. She could pack her bag and leave tonight and forget this day had ever happened. She could go back to her life and keep screaming into water until she drowned.

  “I had an affair,” she said, surprising herself more than him perhaps. She kept her eyes on his throughout her confession. “William loved me but it wasn't enough. I wanted more.” Her voice shook and it took all she had to contain the tears, but she was determined to continue. “I wanted something different than what he could give. It was stupid and selfish and childish.” What she really meant was 'I was stupid and selfish and childish.'

  “I found a man who I thought wanted what I wanted and one night turned into two, then more. William found out eventually and it broke his heart.”

  She paused briefly, and then continued, “I told him the truth; I told him everything. I'd told him before it happened as best as I could that I needed more from him… in the bedroom, but he couldn't give it to me and I went to someone else looking for it. That someone else didn't work out either and I'm not even sure I wanted it to, but our marriage was over.” She drank the rest of her wine. “You asked me if I'd forgiven myself and I think you know the answer is no. I mea
n, it's pretty obvious, right? I'm a mess.” She reached for the wine bottle to refill her glass but his hand covered hers and set it on her lap.

  “Do you still love him? William?”

  She shook her head, “No.”

  “And your lover?”

  She exhaled and shook her head again. “No, that was just stupidity. He wasn't what I was looking for, not by a long shot.”

  “And what is it you're looking for then?” he asked, refilling her water glass but leaving the wine glass empty.

  She stared at him, her face taking on a pink hue. She couldn't tell him that, absolutely not. She shook her head slowly; she couldn’t speak those words out loud again.

  He nodded and didn't push.

  “You don't have children, I'm assuming?” he asked.

  “No. We were waiting until… well I don't know what we were waiting for. Maybe some part of us knew we wouldn't make it. I don’t know.” She drank a sip of water. Luciana came to serve their meal and they remained silent. Gabrielle felt grateful for the reprieve. Once they were alone again, she remembered his earlier comment. “You have kids?”

  He smiled, nodding. “A daughter. She’s ten now. She spends every other weekend with me and we take a summer holiday together every year.”

  “The divorce must have been difficult on her.”

  “She was very young, thankfully. She's the reason I survived. Once you have kids, you can't go to your room and hide under the blankets anymore.” He smiled and took a bite of his food. “Eat, Gabrielle,” he said, nodding toward her plate.

  She picked up her fork and moved the pasta around.

  He didn't look at her when he next spoke. “The pain won't let you go until you stop and face it.” The words weighed into her consciousness. He was right; she knew that. The only way out was through. “Is that why you're back here, what you're trying to do? This must be a painful place for you to visit.” Now he looked at her, his face soft, curious.

  She nodded, feeling like a dear in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “I don’t think I can do it though,” she said. A tear slipped from each eye but she didn't move to wipe them away.

  He watched them slide down her face and fall onto her lap before returning his gaze to hers. “Do you need to be punished, Gabrielle?” he said so quietly she was sure she’d misunderstood.

  “What?” she asked, swallowing over the lump in her throat.

  “Do you need me to punish you?” he asked.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, confused.

  “Nothing to understand. Eat your dinner now, we’ll talk later when we have more privacy,” he said as Luciana came to refresh their wine glasses.

  “Tell me about your daughter,” she said, forcing a bite of ravioli into her mouth, trying to put the strange conversation out of her mind. “What's her name?”

  “Justine,” his face lit up when he said her name. “She’s charming, clever and sweet.” He reached for his wallet and brought out a picture. “This is just a few weeks ago,” he explained. “She was in a play so she’s in period costume.”

  “An actress,” Gabrielle said, the conversation lifting her spirits.

  “Definitely. I’m quite proud of her.”

  She noticed that he kept his eyes on her the entire time he spoke. It was as if he were trying to figure her out. They finished their meal and as he helped her stand, he said, “I meant what I said earlier. I won't judge you.”

  Their eyes locked for a long time. “What did you mean about punishing me?” a voice that sounded very much like her own asked.

  Chapter Three

  “Let's have a drink in my room,” he said. “We can talk about that.” With his hand at the small of her back, he led her toward the apartment at the opposite end of hers.

  “We're in the same building,” she remarked.

  He slid the key into the lock, opened the door, and switched on the light. He gestured for her to go ahead of him.

  “This is lovely,” she said, looking around the small apartment. His room was a little different in that it was more of a studio and at the back, French doors led to an enclosed patio. “I don't have the patio,” she said, opening the doors. He set a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table.

  “The views here are my favorite. I could disappear here,” she said, turning to take in the panoramic view.

  “I hope you won’t,” he said, holding out a glass and offering her a seat next to him. “Join me.”

  She did, sipping the wine.

  “I didn't realize what my wife needed until it was too late,” he began. “But I know for a fact that guilt left unpunished is like an open wound. It will fester and infect everything else around it. No living being can survive much less thrive under those conditions.”

  She drank a big swallow of her wine.

  “I'll punish you, if you allow me to.”

  “I don't understand. Punish me how?” she asked.

  “I'll give you physical pain, for example a spanking to start, to help alleviate your guilt.”

  “I don't think a spanking is what I need,” she chuckled, unsure how to react to this strange conversation.

  “I can use my belt if you prefer.”

  She swallowed hard, but his face told her he wasn't joking.

  “You're serious,” she said.

  He blinked, allowing her time to process.

  “I've never been spanked,” she said, surprising herself.

  “You'd have a safe word.”

  “What?”

  “You'll choose a word to use to tell me to stop if it's too much for you,” he said, finishing the last of his wine. “You'd be safe all along knowing you can use that word if you need to, although I don't think you'll need it.”

  “How do you know I won't?” This was the most bizarre conversation she'd ever had with a man.

  “Although it will be your first time, it won't be mine. I will watch you closely throughout, gauge where you are, how you're reacting.”

  “Did you spank your wife?” She was sorry as soon as the words left her mouth.

  He exhaled and took a moment to answer. “This is about you and me, not my ex-wife.”

  Was this really happening? she wondered as she drank the last sip of her wine. He was so confident, so at ease. She didn't doubt that if she said yes, she'd experience something like she never had before. She considered him, knowing he was aroused—his pupils were already dilated, and there was no missing the erection between his legs. Her panties suddenly felt moist at the image of being taken over his knee and spanked.

  “I'm sorry,” she said.

  His gaze seemed to penetrate straight into her soul and all she wanted to do was say yes. She'd never met someone who had this much power over her, who forced her to be honest, to really look at herself.

  “Don't be,” he said. “I understand this is probably a strange conversation if you've never done anything like this.”

  She wondered if she should come clean, tell him what it was William hadn't been able to give her in the bedroom. Why what he was saying was hitting home.

  “With my wife, it was erotic, not for discipline. Since our marriage ended, I've only had relationships with submissive women, women who want to be spanked erotically or agree to disciplinary spankings. My nature is dominant. I enjoy this sort of play sexually but also understand its power to heal on a non-sexual level. As children we're punished when we do something wrong but as adults, that disciplinarian figure is no longer a part of the equation for many of us.”

  She took hold of her glass but didn't drink. She needed something to do with her hands while he continued.

  “Everyone deals with things differently. Some of us need the role of the disciplinarian at certain moments or junctures in our lives. Punishment, in this case physical punishment, can become the catalyst to allowing us to forgive ourselves. You pay what you owe and the scales are once again balanced. You feel guilty over cheating on your husband, and you blame yourself for his
leaving you. I imagine your friends and family harbor some opinions of their own,” he said.

  She could only stare at him, he was so right and it all made sense. She could feel herself wanting to let go, wanting to say yes, to give herself over to him to punish her, to give her the pain she so badly needed, wanted, and feared. She didn’t know if it would be enough, but this was the first time she'd been confronted with someone actually telling her that yes, she should be punished, but she should also be forgiven.

  “Yes,” she whispered even before he finished what he was saying. It felt right, so right. He was a stranger, almost. They'd been intimate, though, and he'd given her two amazing orgasms. He'd talked to her about things her best friends couldn't or wouldn't bring up. In the few hours she'd known him, she was looking at a side of herself that she'd feared for a long time. He'd been her confessor already and now, he would be her disciplinarian.

  “Yes,” she said again. “Punish me, Julian.” The stone that had sat in her stomach for years seemed somehow just a little lighter.

  He smiled and took her hand in his before bringing his mouth to hers. Although it was only a brief meeting of their lips, it was one of the most erotic kisses she'd ever shared with a man.

  “Let's choose a safe word, Gabrielle. I would feel better if you had one, at least at the start. We'll keep it simple with ‘red’. If you truly are afraid or cannot take anymore, say ‘red’ and I will stop. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, “Yes.”

  “Are you ready, Gabrielle?”

  “I… Yes.”

  “Stand up.”

  She did.

  “Let your hair down,” he said.

  She was very aware of how her fingers trembled as she reached back and pulled the clip from her hair, allowing the dark mass to spill down her back.

  Julian rose to his feet, standing just inches from her. “You're shivering,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Are you cold?”