In Time for Love

by Kessily Lewel

  And it was necessary, because he wasn't going easy on her at all. When he'd warned her this wouldn't be any fun, he'd meant every word. One sizzling slap after another built the flames high in the center of each cheek. Her flesh rippled with the force of the hard spanks that rained down without pause, and the exposed skin around the edges of her panties went through a myriad of color changes in a short time—a faint pink that quickly darkened to a dusky rose and then, in under five minutes, had taken on an angry crimson color that looked as painful as it felt.

  Her pale skin had always colored dramatically, and there'd been a faint hope that once she was good and red, he'd feel some sympathy for her and stop. That didn't happen, if anything, the spanking seemed to get harder, the slaps crashing down faster, as he continued. There was nothing remotely resembling foreplay about this spanking; it barely even resembled punishments she'd received before. She'd never realized that those previous experiences had been light until she had this to compare them to.

  In books and stories, people talked about not being able to sit comfortably after a spanking, and she'd always thought that was just exaggeration for fiction, until now. The way he methodically punished every inch of her backside, with one hard snap after another, made her think that sitting could be a real concern by the time he was done. In the midst of her suffering, there wasn't a lot of coherent thinking going on, and she'd tried to get through it by focusing on counting, at first, gritting her teeth and holding back cries through sheer willpower as she counted in her head and tried to guess what the magical number would be that would end the punishment.

  Fifty, she thought. He'll stop at fifty, but he didn't. That epic number rolled right on by without a pause. That made it the longest punishment she'd ever received, and it was also the hardest. She lost track shortly after that, tears starting to fall. They ran down over her cheeks and the hands still clasped over her mouth. Her shoulders started to shake with sobs, and she made no attempt to hide the fact that she was crying; in fact, she made her silent misery as obvious as possible. Holding back the sounds because of their shipboard neighbors was one thing; trying to be stoic while her ass was being scorched was something else.

  She wanted him to know she was in pain. She wanted him to know how badly it hurt because, if he didn't, he might just continue on forever. In the past, a big show of painful penitence had usually brought things to a conclusion fairly quickly, but she was learning that this wasn't going to work on Jack. The heavy-handed smacks were so loud that they completely covered her sobs and the occasional whimpers and muffled yelps.

  Her feet had long since left the floor and they flailed and kicked with every thunderous smack of his hand. He ignored it for the most part, but when she attempted to cover her aching rump so she could steal a second to catch her breath, he stopped. "We're not even close to being done here, and I'll start over at the beginning, if those feet don't hit the floor, right now!"

  With a desperate sound of panic, her feet immediately dropped back down to the carpet. "Please, please, I'm sorry!" she blurted. Not even close to being done? She was never going to survive this, and suddenly, she remembered the hairbrush he'd had her bring and her stomach sank to the floor to join her recalcitrant toes.

  "I know you are, darlin', and you should be. But risking your life deserves more than a few smacks, don't you think?" he asked. It felt as if there should have been anger in his tone, but instead, he just sounded disappointed and that was so much worse. She'd been ready to beg and argue that she'd had enough until then, but his tone cut her off at the pass.

  She slumped miserably and didn't reply, but a second later, she stiffened when his fingers slid under the leg elastics of her panties and, in one swift motion, gathered them up into the crack of her ass to fully expose both cheeks. She twisted to stare at him, her blue eyes wide with shock. Her mouth opened in a silent 'o' of surprise.

  Her expression almost seemed to amuse him, and he shook his head. "I said to leave them on because I wanted it to be clear this was just punishment. Also, the first time I see you naked, I'd rather it was for something more fun. I never said I was going to give you a spanking with your butt protected," he said.

  As if her panties had been providing much in the way of protection at all—half her ass had been exposed, anyway. But she found there was a difference when he started again. Maybe it was psychological but it felt like that thin layer of fabric being gone had heightened everything. The slaps seemed sharper, somehow, crisper.

  With a clear view, he spent a minute or so touching up any spots that didn't seem to match the shade of red he was looking for. Most of the spanks were now aimed directly at the formerly covered skin, but after just a short time, there was another pause and she started to relax. Maybe now, he'd be satisfied and stop, she hoped.

  He shifted, taking a tighter grip around her waist and then, suddenly, the harsh crack of wood meeting bare skin echoed. She inhaled sharply, back stiffening as the forgotten hairbrush connected with a brilliant flash of pain. Before she could absorb the new level of sting, the brush had already slapped down on her other cheek, heightening it.

  A yelp escaped her mouth before she could cover it, and the tears that had trickled to a stop during the first short pause were suddenly pouring from her eyes in a torrent. The tempo of the punishment had changed now that he'd moved on to the finale, and she'd thought a slower pace would make it easier to bear, but somehow, it didn't. Instead of the rapid staccato of swats that kept her on the edge of panic, she now got a slow and deliberate series of carefully placed spanks. Each one seemed to be a separate shock that took her breath away, and the seconds between them only seemed to make it worse.

  Tensing her muscles tight as she waited for the brush to descend didn't help with anything but keeping her focused on the throbbing misery of her backside. Her hands clutched at his leg desperately, no longer even thinking about covering her cries. Instead, she needed to hold onto that steady anchor to get through the pain.

  That pause—probably only seconds, but it felt like an eternity while she waited—and then the snap of the brush landing across her ass made staying still a struggle. As she hugged his leg and sobbed, she did her best to keep her feet on the floor, but every time he caught an especially tender spot, they would kick up. He didn't have to threaten her again, though. She forced them back down on her own, fearful that he really would start over.

  It was the hardest thing she'd ever endured, and by the time he delivered the last strokes, one to each cheek and devastatingly hard, she was no longer making any sounds but the hoarse resigned sobbing. Her body ached and was limp with exhaustion, but the second he set the brush aside and said, "We're done," she found the energy to scramble off of his lap to kneel on the floor at his feet.

  Her hands flew back and then fluttered there, hovering over the scorched red skin as though she were afraid to touch it and make the pain worse. He got to his feet and retrieved a box of tissues from the bathroom, bringing it back to her without comment, and by the time he returned, she'd begun a tentative investigation of the damage to her rump. Fingers probed gently and brought winces each time; she'd probably have some bruises from that brush.

  She sniffled pathetically as she took the tissues from him, mopping her face with a handful. Now that she wasn't intently focused on her ass, the embarrassment of what had just happened crept back, but at least her face was so swollen and red with tears that it wasn't obvious she was blushing. She distracted herself by trying to put things in some kind of order, tugging her panties back into place with one hand while she did her best to dry her face with the other.

  She'd kicked off the pajama shorts at some point with all the flailing, but with her panties rearranged so they covered her throbbing ass cheeks, she felt dressed enough not to worry about them. He offered her a hand up hesitantly, as though he wasn't sure what to do now. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" he asked in a soft voice. Deliberately gentle to calm her, no doubt, because tears kept leaking
from her eyes sporadically.

  She shook her head rapidly. "No! Please, please, just stay?" she asked, suddenly desperate not to be alone. She fixed her eyes on him, wide and pleading. The tears had washed them out until they were almost unrealistically pale and they held his attention. He reached out and gently smoothed her tousled hair. "Of course, I'll stay, darlin'. Just wasn't sure if you'd want me around after that," he said. He tugged her closer and gently wrapped his strong arms around her with a soft squeeze.

  She relaxed into him; it felt so good to be held again, and he made her feel safe. Maybe that was strange since her ass was still prickling with sharp little stings and she could feel her pulse beating in the center of each cheek from the ferocious spanking he'd given her. Still, if she was honest with herself, she might have had to admit that, as much as she'd hated the spanking while it was happening, now that he'd finished, she felt so much lighter. Like the punishment had washed away the layer of guilt she'd been acquiring over the past week.

  Her tears finally stopped completely, though she still found herself sniffling now and then, when he let go of her. "Why don't you go wash your face and get ready for bed," he suggested firmly. His suggestions never really seemed optional, though they weren't quite orders, either; she just found herself obeying like they were.

  She nodded and slipped out of the room, bending to scoop up the pajama bottoms on her way. She took her time in the privacy of the bathroom, first, washing her face as he'd suggested and then trying to find an angle where she could see her backside in the mirror. It was something she'd always done after a spanking; it almost felt traditional to look and see. Her pale skin showed off the pink and red well, but she could also see a number of small bruises from the brush, and she couldn't help but prod at them a little.

  She was surprised but grateful that he'd left her legs and thighs alone. She'd always hated having her thighs spanked, and that had been Christopher's favorite spot. She could only imagine and cringe, when she thought how much worse it would have been if Jack had decided to concentrate his time there. He had a hard hand, that man; she shivered just thinking about it and then sighed. Hard but needed, even if it was only temporary, it felt right.

  She'd forgotten the hairbrush in the bedroom, so she used her fingers to comb and smooth her hair into some semblance of order as she stalled. Going back out to face him after such an intimate moment wasn't going to be easy. Brushing her teeth and putting her shorts back on gave her a little more time to collect herself but, finally, she emerged from the bathroom with a hesitant smile. "Hi?" she said from the doorway.

  While she'd been gone, he'd kicked off his shoes and pulled the blankets down on the bed before settling against the pillows to wait. She wondered if he'd changed his mind about not having sex tonight. After all, she was totally sober now. The adrenaline of nearly falling and the punishment that followed had wiped away the arousal she'd felt before, but it probably wouldn't take much to get her going. She'd always had a high sex drive and he turned her on without even trying.

  He patted the bed next to him. "Climb in, Katherine," he said with a smile that held absolutely no heat. Plainly, he was offering cuddles and reassurance and nothing else. Part of her was disappointed, but the bigger part of her was glad that he could be trusted to stick with what he'd said. She liked stability.

  Crawling into the bed gingerly, she settled in next to him, lying on her side with her head on his chest. It seemed silly at this point to keep a distance between them after she'd just sobbed her heart out over his knee, so she might as well enjoy the nearness of his body. "Thank you," she whispered finally.

  "For what, Katherine?" He sounded surprised.

  "For, uh, everything, I guess. For caring enough to punish me so I didn't keep doing stupid stuff. For listening to me ramble about my ex constantly. For staying tonight," she said. There were so many other things she could have listed, but those were the main points that came to mind.

  His chest rumbled in a low laugh. "You're welcome, darlin', for everything." His arm wrapped around her, lightly stroking her back. "Are you ready to sleep?" he asked after they'd been quiet for a couple of minutes, enjoying each other's company.

  She was tired and just the question made her yawn, but she wasn't ready for sleep, not while her ass was still so hot and starting to itch. "No, c-can we talk a little? I feel like we've gotten close so quickly, but I really don't know much about you," she said, tilting her head to look up at him.

  "Sure, we can talk," he said. He shifted, finding a comfortable position so he could see her face as he held her. "What do you want to know?"

  She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. Good question! They'd made plenty of small talk over dinner but very little of it had been about him, personally. "Well, I know you traveled a lot, but where are you from, originally?" she asked finally.

  He laughed and his fingers began to drum a light pattern on her back; it was oddly relaxing. "I've traveled so much I barely remember life before that, but I guess home would be West Virginia. I haven't been back there in a very long time, though," he said quietly.

  She'd wondered about the slight accent she occasionally noticed. It wasn't there all the time, but it seemed to sneak in now and then to smooth his words. It was there now, added to the melancholy tone in his voice that made her frown. "Why don't you go back?" she asked, belatedly wondering if that was too personal a question.

  "No point now. My family's long gone," he said.

  From his tone, she was guessing he didn't mean they'd moved away, and she definitely wasn't going to ask any more questions about that. "I'm sorry," she said instead.

  He shrugged, chest moving under her. "Just the way it is. My turn?" She gave him a confused look. "To ask a question," he clarified.

  "Oh! Sure, yes, of course," she said.

  "Your name, why Katherine? You don't seem like the formal type and that's a big mouthful. Don't people usually shorten it to Kate or Kathy? Something like that?" he asked, just curious.

  It wasn't a deep or personal question, or at least he hadn't thought so when he asked, but she ducked her head so he could no longer see her face and sighed. "Well, my friends used to call me Kitty, but…uh…Christopher thought it was kind of childish. Actually, he wasn't fond of nicknames at all, so it was always Katherine, never Kitty. I guess I got used to it," she said. It was one of the many things she'd given up.

  "Christopher, huh? Seems to me that your name really should be something you're comfortable with, not something he prefers. So, which did you like better? Katherine or Kitty?" he asked. His fingers had stopped tapping, and now his hand was rubbing her back in slow circles.

  She hesitated; even with all the self-destructive behavior, it still surprised her when she realized she was doing something because he'd preferred it. "I-I guess I always liked Kitty until he said it was stupid," she said slowly.

  Jack had been careful not to really criticize anything Christopher had done. She wasn't at the stage yet where she could hear those things without jumping to his defense, but he didn't hide the fact that he wasn't a fan of her ex. "Why don't you forget what he said. Do you still like Kitty?" he asked her gently.

  She was silent for a second and then nodded, with her head still resting on his chest. Katherine didn't seem like her, and growing up, the only time she'd ever been called by her full name was when she was in trouble.

  "Good, okay, then I'm going to start calling you Kitty. By the end of the trip, you can decide if you want to keep using it when you get home. How's that sound?" he suggested.

  "That sounds good, Jack. Um, since we're talking about names, how'd you end up with one that sounded like an action movie star?" she asked, sneaking an amused look at him.

  "An action movie star? Really?" A surprised laugh burst out of him. "Maybe I should head over to Hollywood and audition for something." He shook his head, "Actually, it's Jackson Emmanuel Drake, if that's any better? Folks just always called me Jack, though."


  "Jackson? Hmm." She thought about that for a minute. "I like it. Kind of old fashioned, but no offense, it still sounds like you should be a movie star."

  His hand slipped down to pat her thigh, amused. "Acting isn't an interest of mine," he assured her. He yawned loudly and turned his head to look at the clock on the bedside table. "It's getting late; we should probably sleep. Last thing you want to do on a cruise is sleep the day away."

  She rolled over to look and groaned. "Ugh, yeah, I suppose you're right," she sighed. It had been nice to talk while he held her, but if they were going to be up for breakfast, they'd have to sleep soon. She sat up next to him, shifting a little to test the soreness of her seat. The sting and heat had diminished considerably during the relaxing cuddle session and she felt like she was tired enough to sleep without the occasional tingling disturbing her.

  She slid off the bed and stretched, arms reaching high over her head. Her shirt slid up to expose a line of skin above her shorts, and he made an appreciative sound. It wasn't for his benefit, but knowing he was watching, she took her time so he could enjoy the show. She knew now that he wasn't going to give in on the sex thing, and it was oddly pleasing to think she wouldn't be the only one sleeping with a little discomfort.

  She flashed him a grin as she relaxed her posture, letting her arms drop back down. She crossed the room to flip off the lamps, leaving the room dark, except for the long bar of golden light that slipped under the cabin door. She padded back to bed and slipped in beside him, snuggling close. The air conditioning was set high inside the ship, and at night, it got cold; she was grateful for the warm body next to her and the blanket that covered them.

  "Goodnight, Jack," she whispered.

  He yawned and tugged her closer, arm wrapping around her. "Goodnight, Kitty. Sweet dreams," he replied. His voice was suddenly tired, and in seconds, his breathing evened out in sleep. It took her a little longer; her mind was too full of thoughts, but she was exhausted and the whirling in her brain wasn't enough to keep her awake for long.