by Jane Henry
“When a dom gives an instruction,” he said, his deep, gritty voice carrying across the room, “he expects to be obeyed. And disobedience should be met with firm, painful consequences.” His eyes bore into Grace’s and though she hadn’t read those eyes in years, they spoke loud and clear to her now.
He was pissed, and she was in so much fucking trouble. She swallowed, wiping her damp hands on her jeans, frozen to the spot. It was shocking, seeing him wield a paddle, and both arousing and nerve-wracking hearing his words. Suddenly, his admonition to stay safe in his apartment rang loud and clear, much clearer than it had when she had grown so restless she’d decided a bit of a walk downstairs wouldn’t hurt anybody.
As his eyes narrowed on her, his hand spread across the naked lower back of the girl in front of him, and he lifted the paddle in the air.
“Firm,” he said, the paddle rearing back as his gaze quickly went back to his target before he swished it through the air and brought it down with a resounding smack on the girl’s upturned ass. The sound of the impact went straight to Grace’s clit.
“Painful.” Another lift and swoosh before he brought the paddle down with a second firm swat, the smack pushing the air right out of Grace’s lungs.
“Consequences.” He punctuated his words with a final heavy swat, eyes now back on Grace.
Oh, God. There was not a doubt in her mind.
When he got her alone, he was going to spank her.
And as she shoved her thighs together, arousal zinging through her body like bolts of lightning, she realized that all these years fantasizing about Donnie, all these years slipping her fingers through her own folds in the recesses of her bed, as she imagined oh so many sweet, wicked things he’d do to her, that she’d never been more turned on than she was now, watching him spank another girl. The heat that gathered in her chest spread, vivid and painful, as both arousal and jealousy warred within her.
He stood, no longer bending over to deliver the paddling, as he exchanged the paddle for a long, thin rod.
“Canes must be used with extreme caution,” he said, his voice carrying over the crowd, his focus now elsewhere. “They are not beginners’ implements. Thin, supple implements like switches and canes concentrate force and are considered on the severe end of the spectrum. It’s very easy to overdo.” He was walking in a circle now, pacing as he spoke, holding the cane in one hand while tapping the other. His deep voice carried through the room, commanding the attention of everyone there like the most erudite professor. She thought of Mrs. Reynolds, that nasty hag from back in the neighborhood who used to call Donnie a punk who’d never amount to anything. She wished the bitch could see Donnie now. How could anyone accuse Donnie of being an uneducated, stupid street kid? God, he was brilliant. The crowd was riveted. As he continued, though, he came to stand in front of Grace.
“Sometimes, though, a sound punishment is necessary.” His eyes focused on hers, narrowed and furious. Her mouth suddenly felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. She didn’t like the look of his eyes on her like that, and she squirmed as he continued. “Sometimes, a stubborn submissive needs to learn her lesson. She needs to learn to behave, and a good spanking that’ll leave her sore will be a good reminder that you mean what you say.”
God. The breath whooshed out of her.
He turned back to the woman in front of him, once more placing a firm hand on her bare back. Grace wanted to shove that hand away, tear his fingers off the woman’s flesh, and show everyone in the whole room that Donnie was hers.
The ferocity of her possessiveness surprised her, but she had no time to dwell as Donnie spoke again, his eyes locked on hers. “Caning is a severe punishment, and should be reserved for serious disciplinary action. In my book, that translates to putting yourself in danger,” he said, as he lifted the cane and snapped it against the girl's bare ass with a flick of his wrist. Furious eyes, narrowed to slits, turned to her, and though the cane struck the girl on display, she knew, she could feel, that he wished she was the one writhing in pain under his firm grasp. “Or deliberate disobedience.”
Pain. Disobedience. Punishment. Grace pushed her legs together, her heart hammering in time to the thrum of arousal that licked through her. She flinched with every soft snap of the cane, feeling his displeasure, feeling his anger, the words aimed directly at her. The crowd faded, and she realized Donnie had completed the caning. She was dimly aware of him introducing another dom, saying something about aftercare and that the next man would pick up the demonstration. She felt her jaw drop as Donnie stepped away, another man clad in black took his place, and the girl sprawled out on the bench turned angry eyes toward first Donnie, then her. But she had no time to understand what was happening, as Donnie was now upon her, his hand grasping her upper arm and spinning her around.
“Not one fucking word,” he growled. “You say one word and I won't wait to get you upstairs before I blister your ass.”
Sheer will kept her trotting to keep up with him, as her knees wobbled. She wanted to pull away from him and shield herself from his anger, since she suspected his anger hurt worse than she imagined that caning would have. If watching him spank a girl on public display made her breasts swell and her clit throb, what would it be like if the woman under his punishing palm was her?
Her arm felt branded by his touch, her skin aflame as he marched her along. Where were they going? She’d been going stir crazy in the room, and somehow managed to convince herself that she’d be able to watch him without him noticing her. She’d only wanted to be closer to him, only wanted to see what exactly happened in a BDSM club. It seemed she’d find out, all right. Had she hoped he would notice? She hadn’t accounted for the horrible feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach now that he truly was angry with her though.
“I told you,” he growled, his voice tight with anger as he marched her to privacy down a dark, narrow hallway past the main demonstration area, “to stay the fuck in the apartment.” They were moving upstairs now, back to his place, the stairs flying by as he hauled her along with him. “Where you were safe and I could make sure you didn’t put your fucking life in danger.” His voice cracked, and she felt her nose tingle, her eyes filled now with tears. She’d only ever wanted to please him, even as a kid. She’d sell her soul for a mere glimpse of his beautiful brown eyes filled with pride, sign away all that she owned to see his face break out in a grin. This hurt. This killed.
They were at the top of the stairs now, as he fumbled with keys, but the keys were unnecessary, as she hadn’t locked the door. When he realized the door was unlocked, he swore under his breath, smacked the door open, turned back to her, and hauled her through the opening.
Her heart skipped a beat as she heard the door slam and lock behind them. What would he do now? She didn’t have to wait for long to find out. It seemed he knew exactly what to do now. Pulling her to where the weight bench sat in the corner of the room, he propped one boot-clad foot on the bench, and without another word, hauled her bodily over his knee. She gasped as the breath whooshed out of her, the warmth of his knee beneath her belly driving home the reality that she was about to get her ass spanked. One hand flailed helplessly in front of her, while the other instinctively flew back to block him, but he’d clearly done this a time or two. He pinned her wrist to her lower back.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t a sexy spanking like the ones she’d fantasized about, where she’d wiggle her hips and he’d take her over his knee, and they’d do... something. Not having been spanked before, she’d never known where to take the fantasy after she found herself over his lap. But wasn’t he supposed to bare her, like he had the girl downstairs? She didn’t want to be strewn over his knee about to get spanked like a naughty little girl, fully clothed. Her only defense now was to convince him to stop.
“Donnie, I…”
Whack! His hand cracked down on her ass, the smack echoing in the room like the blast of a canon.
Holy shit that hurt
.
“Donnie, please!”
Whack! A second blistering smack landed. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, even with her jeans on. Had he snagged a paddle on the way? She closed her eyes, her cheeks flaming with mortification, unable to stop him, as his hand landed over and over.
“Please what?” he growled. “Please don’t spank me? Please let me put myself in danger and risk my life?” He shifted her so that her torso leaned even more precariously over his knee, her ass perched higher, another swat following another, the spanking unrelenting. This wasn’t sexy. This wasn’t what she’d ever imagined. She was completely, utterly embarrassed.
“No,” she wailed, realizing with chagrin that her humiliation had dissolved into tears, her cheeks damp with them. With her free hand, she swiped at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry!” He paused while she still dangled over his knee.
“You’re sorry?” Another solid whack. “Sorry you got caught, or sorry you’re getting spanked?” Whack! “Sorry you scared the shit out of me?” He delivered hard, blistering swats, one right after the other, until she lost count.
“Yes,” she wailed, and he finally stopped. He released her wrist, pulled her down off his knee, placed his boot on the floor, and spun her around to look at him. His huge hands grasped her shoulders and shook her, not harshly, but firmly enough to get her attention. His jaw was set, his eyes not as angry now, but probing, so serious. She watched him, the knot in her chest dissolving as she gave way to full-on sobs.
“You do what I say,” he growled. “You ever fucking put yourself in danger like that again, I’ll pull those pants down and spank your bare ass. Do you understand me?”
She nodded, feeling his anger, feeling how serious he was, and lifted a hand to her eyes, swiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop. She wanted to run into his arms, bury her head in his chest, and cry her eyes out, but he stood apart now, released her shoulders, and placed his hands on his hips. “You get your ass in my room,” he said. “Strip out of those clothes and get ready for bed.” His eyes narrowed, a frown etched on his face, as he pointed one finger toward his bedroom. “Now.”
Grace put her head down, sniffling, and walked to his bedroom obediently. She heard him sigh, which only may her cry harder. She hated that she’d made him so angry. She felt all alone in nursing her wounds. Shuffling her feet to his bedroom, she quietly pushed open the door as she heard him on his cell phone, likely checking in to make sure everything was going as planned downstairs.
“You’ve got it? Thank you. Yes, sounds perfect. I’m out for the night. Tomorrow, we need to have a meeting to go over a few things. I did not like having it sprung on me that there was a substitute for the demo, Connie. I refuse to do another scene with Julie. Next time someone gets sick, we cancel the demo.” His voice went on, but she could only focus on what he’d said. He was done for the night? He wasn’t going back down?
Grace laid out the t-shirt and lounge pants he’d acquired for her, and stripped. Unfastening her jeans, she pushed them down over her hips, flinching as the sturdy fabric scraped along her sore ass. She closed her eyes as she stepped out of them, then ran her hand over the tender, punished skin. It felt warm to the touch straight through her panties. God. His hand was so large, and connected so firmly, she wondered if she’d be able to sit comfortably even the next day.
You ever put yourself in danger like that again, I’ll pull those pants down and spank that bare ass.
She shivered, her pulse spiking in her chest as she pulled her top over her head, bunching it up, and tossing it in his laundry basket. All this time, she’d been fantasizing about getting a bare-ass spanking, and after getting a real spanking over jeans, she wondered if those were the types of spankings best left for fantasy. Could she tolerate a spanking on bare skin from Donnie?
Hiccupping, she stepped into the pants. She’d have to brush her teeth and wash up, but she was in no mood to see Donnie right now. All she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and pull them up over her head. She laid down on his bed, the pile of pillows below her cheek offering little consolation. As her tears slowed, she replayed the scene in her mind. Somehow, she’d imagined being spanked by Donnie would’ve been a whole lot hotter and a lot less mortifying than it actually was.
As she thought about it, she realized he hadn’t been amiss. She’d disobeyed his instruction to stay safe and out of reach of those outside his barrier of protection. She wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment without him. Though at the time, she’d thought her plan to quietly observe downstairs would be fine, she realized now how vulnerable she’d made herself. She had no idea where the exits were, what video cameras were set up, or who would be downstairs.
She’d been stupid, and she’d paid the price. She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling very, very alone, rejected even. Was he still angry with her? She hated the idea of him being angry with her. Where did this leave them? The craziness of her question made her almost laugh. She didn’t know when she’d be able to return to her home, or go back to work, or if she or her brother would make it out of this whole fiasco alive, and her biggest concern at the moment was how Donnie would forgive her. And why had he treated her like a little girl? That hadn’t been a sexy spanking, like he’d given the gorgeous girl in the demo. That had been purely to punish her, damn it. Was she still just a little girl to him?
The door creaked, and her eyes flew open. He stood in the doorway, the dim light from the living room casting him in shadow. He’d stripped out of his black top and stood in a white t-shirt, and jeans, his hands tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the door frame. His hair hung loose about his face, longish and tousled, like he’d just gotten off his bike.
Suddenly self-conscious, she turned away and pulled the covers up to hide her face, acutely aware of her scorched ass.
He’d spanked her. God in heaven, he’d taken her over his knee and spanked her. She swallowed, another lump rising in her throat just looking at him.
His voice was soft when he spoke. “You okay, honey?”
He couldn’t be all sweet and tender, not now, when she was nursing her wounds and still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Yeah, she was fine. She’d swallow her tears and tell him she was fine, thank you. But the moment she opened her mouth, it seemed she no longer had any control over what she said or how she reacted.
He’d spanked her like a naughty little girl.
“No,” she whispered, her tears starting afresh. Hell no, she wasn’t okay. Her chin wobbled and her voice cracked. “I’m not okay.” She turned her back to him, buried her face in the pillow, and stifled her cries. Her lack of control embarrassed her, but she couldn’t seem to get a grip. “Just go away,” she mumbled into the pillow, but the little voice inside her head pleaded, please don’t go.
She heard a creak, as she felt the bed sag. Was he sitting on the edge? But no, a moment later she was lifted bodily up into his long, strong, capable arms, and he was cradling her against his chest as he sat on the bed. “Grace,” he said, his voice husky and filled with emotion. “Come here, angel.”
The term of endearment broke her will further, and she sobbed against his chest. He held her silently, hushing her as he rocked her in his arms. She cried for oh so many things. For her mama, as she imagined her pacing the house, worrying about her daughter. She cried for Pedro, who was a certifiable asshole, but who was her brother. But most of all, she cried because she’d let down her knight in shining armor, her hero.
“Grace,” he said softly, softer than she’d ever heard him speak. He kissed the top of her head and slowly rocked her until her sobs quieted. “You had a lot you were holding onto, didn’t you?” he asked, and she nodded.
Her nose was stuffed and her eyes swollen as she looked up at him. “For some reason, when I thought about you sp-spanking me, I always thought it would be a lot hotter than it was in reality.” A day or two earlier, admitting she fantasized about him spanking her would have embarrasse
d her, but now, it seemed everything was laid bare, and there was no reason to hold back.
He laughed, holding her tighter to his chest. “You’ve thought about it before?”
She nodded. “Um, yeah.”
His chuckles quieted. “It can be hot, honey,” he said, “and someday, I’ll show you exactly what a sexy spanking is like.” He paused, as if he suddenly became aware of her body pressed up against his, and what he’d just said. Her cheek pressed against his dampened shirt, and as she lay in his arms listening to his heartbeat, she felt him beneath her… not just his legs or his arms, but his hardened length. She turned him on. God, she turned him on. She lifted her face off his chest, needing to see his eyes, and when she did, she gasped, as his mouth met hers. He kissed her the way she’d always hoped he would, like he wanted to mark her as his own, their lips crushed together in a mingling of salty tears and sultry tongues, his hands raking up her top and kneading her breasts.
He pulled his mouth off hers just long enough to whisper, “That spanking wasn’t sexy for you, angel? That punishment didn’t make you wet for me, even a little?” Oh God, when he put it that way, she felt her thighs clench together as his hand went to her waist and pulled the drawstring. “You sure?” The mere sound of his voice made her nipples harden, but the warmth of his fingers on her belly made her gasp.
“No,” she breathed. “Not sexy. Not. Sexy!”
The very tip of his finger was at the top of her panties now, tugging on the elastic waistband. Oh, God, yes.
“You’re not even a little turned on?”
She held onto his arms as he gently stroked her. His deep, rumbling laugh made her cheeks blush. “Not sexy, huh? Then why are you so wet for me?”
