Love Heals

by Dinah McLeod

  No, I hadn't. Mostly because I was the one with the ulterior motives, but I couldn't tell Brandon that. He didn't like the manipulative, vengeful side of me and despite myself, I wanted to be more like the woman he thought I was. Or at the very least, keep the blacker side of my personality as far away from him as possible.

  "I'm just looking out for you."

  "You always are." I smiled at him and was relieved when his face softened slightly.

  "Yes. Are you sure this is what you want?"

  Of course it wasn't what I wanted—but it would bring me closer to what I did want, if I played my cards right. "I'm sort of out of options."

  "I still don't understand why you quit in the first place. That company was your baby, your brainchild. I know it hurt to have the reins taken, but I'm a little surprised you gave up without a fight."

  He was? "What could I do?"

  "I don't know. Appeal to the board, talk to Patterson…something."

  "I, uh… I did talk to him."

  Brandon eyed me quizzically, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He cleared his throat and asked in a low, gravelly voice, "When was this?"

  "The day after." Why did my throat feel so dry all of a sudden?

  "I see. You never mentioned it."

  I shrugged. "There wasn't anything to mention."

  "You're lying." His voice had gone flat, just like his eyes.

  "What?"

  "I think I'll have you pick your own switch after all."

  I blanched. "But why? You said—"

  "I know what I said, and believe me, I still intend to give you the spanking you have coming, but before that I have a more important issue to deal with. You're going to go pick a switch and I'm going to use it until you're ready to tell me the truth."

  "Brandon—"

  "All right, Karen, I'll give a choice. You can tell me now and take five strokes with the switch. If you want to keep playing this secrecy game, I'll punish you just like I said."

  "But there's nothing to tell," I protested weakly.

  I knew I was in big trouble when his jaw hardened and his eyes flashed at me.

  "Switch. Now."

  Oh, God, why couldn't I just come clean? What the hell was wrong with me? Nothing a good, old-fashioned switching couldn't handle, it looked like. I had to think and think fast, because when that switch came whistling down on my bottom—he wouldn't switch me on the bare, would he?—I knew my tongue would loosen. If I told him now, admitted a little bit of the truth, then maybe I could avoid the possibility of accidentally spilling everything. What was better? Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

  I picked a short, thin branch and took it over to him. He held out his hand, but I clutched it tightly. "Mark kissed me!" I burst out before I could stop myself.

  He blinked rapidly and I saw his Adam's apple doing triple time as he processed the news. "And you're telling me this now? You've been sitting on this for the last three days?"

  "I didn't want to worry you."

  "How thoughtful," he commented dryly.

  "Nothing happened."

  "I see. Bend over and grab your ankles."

  Now it was my turn to blink in confusion. "That's it? Grab my ankles?"

  "What do you want me to say, Karen? There's only one way I can deal with it right now and please believe me when I tell you that I intend to."

  "But—"

  "Enough stalling. You have five coming for keeping secrets. When I have some time to process this, there might be more, but I don't think it's fair to either of us to punish you until I've thought it through."

  I didn't like the hardened quality that had crept into his voice at all. I obeyed reluctantly, moving as slow as was possible without being outright disobedient. As soon as I was in position I heard the switch cut through the air. It was a noise that struck fear in my heart, but I didn't have very long to worry about it before the switch slashed across my bottom. I was thankful that he'd left my shorts up, although I still winced with pain. The next stroke sizzled heat onto my offered behind and strokes three and four were right behind it. Five was the worst, placed down low on my bottom and making me cry out and jump before he'd given me permission to do so.

  Brandon arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Instead, he held out a hand, which I hesitantly took. I was right be cautious—as soon as he had hold of my hand, he pulled me to him and bent me at the waist, steadying me with his arm while his other hand began to smack a rapid tattoo onto my shorts.

  "Brandon!" I screeched in protest. "Please, you can't do this outside, someone might hear!"

  "Oh, so I can blister your bottom with a switch, but I can't spank you with my hand?"

  "The switch…is quieter," I insisted between swats.

  "Sorry, it doesn't work that way, you don't get to choose. Besides, no one is going to hear and you know it. You earned this spanking, now take it like a good girl and stop trying to get out of it or I might have to rethink not baring your bottom."

  The threat made me squirm just as much as the next hard swat he landed to my rear. "Please, Brandon, you're hurting me."

  "That's kind of the point, honey." Another hard swat to my right cheek, followed by one to the left. "And this will hopefully remind you that your words hurt me."

  I'd never realized how loud the sound of his hand smacking my ass really was until I was afraid that someone would overhear. The fear was enough to make my cheeks heat with embarrassment, in a similar manner to what he was doing to the other set. "Ow!" I cried out when he smacked low over the burning line left by the switch.

  "Next time you want to bite my head off for asking a question," Smack, smack, "I hope you remember this spanking, because I'll be happy to repeat it if I need to."

  "You won't!" I insisted, a strangled plea for mercy that he pretended not to hear.

  His swats were slowing down, but instead of the quick, firm ones he'd peppered my bottom with these were hard, cheek-flattening strokes meant to drive home a point. I was reading him loud and clear.

  When they stopped suddenly, I tried to stand, but he kept me bent over while his fingers found the button of my shorts. When I felt him working to unbutton it, I flinched. "Brandon, please, don't."

  "I'm almost done, sweetheart. Keep being a good girl—I'm proud of you."

  Normally, hearing him say that would have made me feel better, but right now I felt like the worst girlfriend in the world. Would he be proud of me if he knew I'd lied? Definitely not. In fact, the punishment I'd get would make his hand feel like a harmless flyswatter.

  Perhaps it was the rekindled guilt, or maybe just that he'd removed the thin layer of protection, but my eyes prickled with tears from the very next swat. It sounded even louder now that there was nothing between my ass and his hard, tireless hand, but I was too preoccupied with the burning pain in my rear to be embarrassed.

  Another swat landed on top of the first, causing me to lurch forward on to my tiptoes. The next was placed over the stripes where the switch had struck and were more painful than anything I'd felt yet in our two months of dating. After that, he once more switched tact and his large palm connected with my sit spot again and again until I was bawling.

  By the time I realized it was over I was a snotty, mascara-running mess. Brandon didn't seem to notice as he pulled me into his arms, shushing me gently and stroking my hair.

  "Are you going to be my good girl now?" he murmured.

  How could anyone say no when he asked in that deep, seductive voice? "Yes, Sir."

  "I don't like having to punish you, Karen. I like spanking you—oh, how I love that, but I wish you could remember the rules so I didn't have to make you cry."

  Somehow knowing that he didn't take any enjoyment from what had just happened made the pain in my flaming cheeks more bearable. I snuggled close, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my tear-streaked cheeks into his shirt.

  "No more secrets. I want you to promise me, Karen."

  "No more secrets," I echoed.
My voice only shook the tiniest bit and to my relief, Brandon didn't notice. When this was done, when I had my job back, I'd come clean and tell all and somehow get through whatever punishment he deemed necessary. Until then, it was best if my lips stayed sealed.

  Chapter 5

  Brandon

  Even with Karen beside me, I had a hard time falling asleep. I tossed and turned, wide awake despite my best efforts. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing the jackass who'd kissed her. Was that why she'd quit? It made more sense than it had before. But why had she kept it from me? I couldn't make sense of it. Something just didn't add up.

  Every time I tried to think of something else, inevitably her voice would reverberate through my head: he kissed me. What a dirty scumbag. How dare he force himself on her? She should have called the police, she should have gotten HR involved—it might not have gotten him canned as CEO, but it sure would have stirred up a stink.

  I was going to find him and beat him to a bloody pulp. All that was vengeful and male inside me liked that idea very much and I found myself clenching and unclenching my fist as I anticipated it.

  But as delightful as it would be, as much as he deserved it, the rational side of my brain quickly won out. Mark was the type to press charges and neither Karen nor I needed that right now. Not on top of everything else.

  I turned on my side to watch her sleep. She looked ten years younger when she slept and I could easily imagine her as a young adult, just coming into her beauty. She'd been dealt some tough cards, but one of the things I loved about her was her fighting spirit. I knew she wouldn't believe it—it landed her in trouble more often than not—but I did. Her shiny dark brown hair fell over the pillow like a curtain of silk. I reached over and gently brushed it away from her face. She stirred, but didn't wake. Her breathing was peaceful as she slept and even this enchanted me. She was such a beautiful woman, even though she didn't seem to know it. She was so tiny—from her slender neck on down to her tiny hips, she looked as stunning as a fragile piece of blown glass, but she wasn't. She would have told me that she didn't need me to protect her, which was why I'd kept thoughts of showing Mark the error of his ways to myself. It didn't matter if she needed it, the important thing was that I wanted to do it.

  I couldn't provide her with protection against something that had already happened, but I could make damn sure that it didn't happen again. And one way or another, that was what I planned to do.

  It felt like I'd barely closed my heavy lids before my alarm was blaring. I rolled over to slap it into silence before sitting up groggily. Just as I was opening my eyes, Karen came walking into the room. The sight of her in one of my t-shirts had its usual effect, taking my cock from soft to rock-solid in a matter of seconds.

  "Good morning," she said with a shy smile. "I brought you some coffee."

  "I thought that was my job."

  "Well, I thought…" She shrugged a shoulder, looking uncertain, the way she always did after she'd been punished.

  "Thank you, honey." I patted the bed and she walked toward me, holding out a steaming mug.

  "Cream and sugar, just the way you like it."

  "That was very thoughtful. Thanks, babe." I kissed her temple, my lips brushing against the soft, brown hair that hung around her face.

  "I go into work today," she said, a bit hesitantly.

  I took another long swallow, hoping that the caffeine would kick in and make up for my restless night, at least enough to get me through the day. "I hope you have a good day. I look forward to hearing all about it."

  She gave me another bashful smile. "Thank you, Brandon."

  The way she said it told me that she was thanking me for something more than the well-wishes and I had a feeling I knew what. Karen always felt better after being spanked; it relaxed her in a way that nothing else did. "The pleasure is all mine." I wagged my eyebrows at her, grinning as she giggled.

  "You better get in the shower."

  I looked at the clock and groaned. Great, I was already running behind. "See you tonight?"

  "Of course."

  "Okay. I love you." I leaned in for one more kiss, knowing that I'd have to dress and run when I got out of the shower, but Karen pulled away. "What is it?"

  "I love you too, just…um…are you mad at me?"

  "Mad at you? Honey, why would I be mad?"

  "Because of…you know?"

  "Because of Mark kissing you?" I supplied. "I'll be honest, I wasn't thrilled that you kept it from me and I won't pretend that I understand why you did it. But no, I'm not mad. Just don't let it happen again."

  "I won't."

  Why did she still sound so small and insecure? I leaned forward and grabbed her in a hard hug. "Karen, I love you. If I was mad, I'd tell you. You know I'm not big on ignoring problems."

  When she laughed, I felt her beginning to relax. "You're right."

  "I really do have to get moving. We can talk more tonight. Call me at lunchtime if you get a chance."

  "I will." She leaned forward and pecked my lips before scooting off the bed.

  I took another moment to watch her walk away—I was already late, what was it going to hurt? My cock stretched out long and hungry as I watched the gentle sway of her hips and the bouncing of her perfect ass. Every time I saw her walk it made my palm itch. Maybe tonight, I thought to myself as I jumped out of bed. It just might be the cure for insomnia that I was looking for.

  I showered and dressed in record time, though I had to skip the morning shave. There just wasn't enough time, and besides, Karen liked the rugged look. I made a quick pit stop at my favorite bakery, checking my watch every fifteen seconds as I stood in line. There were some things you just didn't sacrifice and my morning bagel was one of those things.

  "Everything bagel with butter and cream cheese?" My regular cashier asked in a bored voice. She looked like she could use some strong coffee, too.

  "Yes, please."

  "Three dollars and nineteen cents."

  I held out a five dollar bill which she took. She was counting out my change when I heard a voice behind me.

  "Do you serve lox?"

  "Yes, it's on the menu," the cashier replied in the same tired tone without looking up from her open register.

  I knew that voice—I was sure of it. I turned around slowly, almost as if I already knew what I'd see. Mark Patterson looked right back at me without the slightest flicker of recognition, but I knew who he was. And he'd know who I was soon enough. "Mark, right?"

  He seemed surprised that I was talking to him—guy like him in an expensive, hand tailored suit probably wasn't used to making small talk in a bakery. "Yes. Do I know you?"

  "We've met, but you probably don't remember me. I'm Brandon, you used to work with my girlfriend." I stuck my hand out, but he only eyed it and looked away. "Karen Donahue?"

  His eyes flew back to my face. First, he looked only surprised, then his eyes lit and his nostrils flared in a way that told me he knew why I was asking. "Yes, your girlfriend is a unique creature, isn't she? She's certainly used to getting what she wants." He was every bit as smug and self-assured as Karen had always accused him of being.

  "So are you. And if you don't get what you want, you take it, right?"

  His nostrils flared wider. "Look, this really isn't the place—"

  "I don't care if this isn't the place, I've got something to say." I closed the distance between us and was gratified to find that I had a couple of inches on him. "You will keep your hands off my girlfriend, or I swear to God I'll take her to the police station to file a restraining order. I doubt that will look too good to the board of directors."

  He furrowed his brow as he looked at me. When recognition dawned, I got an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Look, man, I don't know what Karen's told you—"

  "She told me that you kissed her," I hissed, acutely aware of the cashier who didn't seem quite so bored anymore. When he smirked, it was all I could do to keep from hitting him. I clenched
my fists at my sides and gritted my teeth to try to keep the rage from manifesting into thrown punches to his gut.

  "Looks like she got that backwards. She kissed me, not the other way around. Although, different time, I would have if she'd—"

  That did it. I stopped him dead with a hard punch to the mouth. The cashier screamed as Mark toppled to his feet, cursing as he covered his mouth. It looked like he had a swollen lip, but no permanent damage. God, how I longed to make sure that he'd never smirk at anyone like that ever again.

  "She kissed me," he insisted from where he sat, sprawled on the floor.

  "She would never—"

  "Did you ask her? Did you see what she was wearing that morning? That short, red fuck-me dress? She came to me, I don't care what she told you."

  I wanted to punch him again, but something stopped me. For some reason, I believed him. Why would he lie after I'd already landed a punch? Wouldn't most men come clean? He knew what I wanted to hear, yet he kept insisting on his innocence. And I did remember the dress, I remembered asking Karen about the unusual choice. She'd just brushed me off like it meant nothing, when the whole time she was what? Planning to go to Mark, planning to…oh, God. I grabbed hold of the counter, the insistent murmur of conversation sounding muted to my ears. "It can't be true," I said aloud, trying to reassure myself.

  "It's true all right, buddy. Don't believe me, fine. Go ask her. She'll lie, but hey, if you know her so well..."

  I glared down at him. "I don't care who kissed who. You stay away from her."

  "Sure you don't," he snorted. The guy really had the have the last word, didn't he?

  "Stay away or that punch will feel like being hit by a feather," I warned before storming out of the bakery, breakfast and change all but forgotten.

  ***

  Karen

  If I didn't know better, I'd swear that Mr. Fern had it out for me. Perhaps it was because I knew that he had every right to. The man was working me like a dog on my first day. I was doing things I hadn't done since I was a kid in high school—filing papers, typing up reports, stuffing paychecks. It was demeaning work, but I knew I had to take my lumps. If I couldn't handle this, I didn't deserve to get my company back. So, I grinned and bore it the best I could. I knew Mr. Fern had assigned office spies that would report back, so I couldn't show any weakness.