by Henry, Jane
And feel the fire within me ebb away a little every day. Say good-bye to my dreams. And… never know what it’s like to be punished over my man’s knees in front of another man.
My intellect is horrified.
My body thrums with the need to say fuck politically correct.
And isn’t that brave? Women have fought for years to retain their dignity, their autonomy. And this is my choice. I could walk away from this now and know I caved and did what I was supposed to instead of what I craved. And holy hell, do I want back on the force.
Colt stands, his eyes locked on mine. He shrugs out of his dress coat. The only sounds in the room are the silky glide of fabric as he takes his coat off, mingled with my heavy breathing. I glance at Rico. His gaze is dispassionate, his lips tucked in a firm, stern line. This man holds my future in his hands. My dreams. He’s giving me one last chance, and I’m not going to fuck this up. Then the sound of a belt clasp gets my attention, and my eyes fly back to Colt. One sharp tug, and the belt slithers ominously through the loops.
I stop breathing. I’m frozen in place, watching Colt coil the belt before he lays it on the floor. His eyes still on me, he deliberately unfastens his sleeve and rolls it up, revealing his strong, muscled forearm. When both sleeves are rolled up, a silent declaration that he has a job to do and that job is punishing my ass, he picks up the belt. I watch him fist the buckle and wrap the leather around his hand, leaving a short, sturdy leather strap. With his free hand, he grabs the back of a chair, and the legs scrape along the floor. He folds his huge, powerful frame onto the chair, his eyes locked on mine, and wordlessly points to his knee. I swallow, willing myself to breathe. To let this go.
To trust him.
He will not force me across his knee but wants me to put myself there. To prove to Rico that I’m doing this of my own volition. That I can handle this stab to my pride and submit myself to authority.
Can I?
I tremble when I reach the side of his knees and bring my eyes to his. And when I look in those eyes, I see the man who wants me. Who fought his way through pain and consequences to see me safe. He went to battle and fought the frontline, ready to take a bullet and lay down his own life to see me safe. And I know then, deep down in my bones, that he’d do it all again. Because he loves me. And I can do this, because I love him, too.
But I freeze. Rico clears his throat impatiently, and Colt doesn’t react. He just watches me. I stand in front of him knowing I have to lay across his knees and take my punishment, but I’m helpless to actually do it. His free hand comes to my cheek. He cups it, holding my gaze in place. And when I feel his warm touch on my skin, I shiver, because something shifts. I’m not just laying down my pride. There’s so much more to it. I’m giving him my trust.
“Sonya,” he says, his deep voice resonating through the quiet room and making my belly warm. “Show Agent Rico that you can submit to my authority.”
I nod, my teeth chatter, and my whole body quakes. “Yes, sir.”
He removes his hand and points again to his lap. I have to do this. I can do this. With a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut to block everything else out around me and lower myself over his lap. When my belly hits his knee, warmth trickles over my skin, and my body stills. I trust him. He loves me. And he’s going to give me exactly what I need.
He leans down, tangling his massive hand through my thick hair. Wrapping it around his hand, he tugs my head back and whispers in my ear. “That’s a good girl. You take your punishment now and prove your strength.” His scent overwhelms me, empowering me, his deep, abiding voice making my heartbeat slow. Strength, he says. I’m not showing my weakness by submitting to him. It would have been far easier to walk out of this room and tell him and Rico to fuck off. But I’ve made the easy choice too many times.
He releases my hair and raises his voice. “I’m not baring her, Rico. If it were just the two of us alone, I’d bare her ass, but that’s for my eyes only.” I can hear the implied threat. And if you laid eyes on her naked body, I’d have to blind you.
“Lucky man,” Rico quips. “Understood. Carry on, Agent.”
My head is facing Rico, my body away from him, so he can’t see when Colt’s hand traces a path up my bare legs. He squeezes one ass cheek, then the other, a silent declaration of ownership that makes my pussy clench.
The next second, leather hisses through the air and snaps against my ass. I gasp but stay in position, my eyes still closed. It burns, but the pain quickly flares to warmth. Then a second, harder lash of the belt falls. I cry out involuntarily. The warmth fades, and now all I feel is red-hot pain. I steel myself for the blows of his belt, but there’s no way to prepare for this, no way to take this quietly. I howl and squirm, instinctively trying to get away from the pain, but he continues to spank me with slow, deliberate lashes, and now he’s lecturing.
“You’ll do what I tell you.”
“Yes, sir,” I say through gritted teeth. The belt falls again.
“You’ll submit to my authority.”
“Yes, sir,” I manage to eek out.
“And if you fuck up, you’ll take your punishment over my knees and learn from every mistake.”
“Yes,” I moan, the pain building to where I can’t bear it, wicked lashes falling in rapid succession now.
“You’ll go into the field with a sore ass and humble attitude,” he rasps out. “And you’ll do what I say if I have to plug your ass into submission every time you step into the field.”
I can feel him hard beneath my belly. He’s fucking loving this. And hell. My thighs are slick with arousal.
So am I.
“Yes,” I groan, then without thinking I moan, “Yes, daddy. We didn’t talk about plugs but whatever.”
Somewhere over my head I hear Rico chuckle in approval, but I don’t care. I almost forgot he was here once the pain started.
“Good girl,” Colt says, and he delivers three more rapid licks of the belt. The belt jingles to the floor. His hand is on my bare ass now, kneading my flaming hot skin and he talks over my head.
“She’s proven herself,” Colt says. “Now I’ll thank you for leaving, Rico, since I’m going to finish this session in a way you’re not welcome to see.” My pulse spikes.
Rico gets to his feet. “Very well,” I hear him say. “I’ll reinstate both of you, and we’ll talk logistics in the morning.” My heart soars but I can’t even talk.
I go to push myself off Colt’s lap because I feel like I need to say good-bye or something, but Colt pushes my lower back down.
“Stay there,” he growls. “We’re not finished.” He’s far from done with me. I shiver in fear and delight.
I hear a door open and close.
I want to rejoice. I want to jump off his lap and whoop. But he isn’t finished with me yet.
“Go to the bedroom,” he orders, finally releasing me. His voice is harsh and stern, barely restrained. “And wait for me. When I come in, I expect you presenting naked on the bed. Chest down, ass in the air. If you’re not in position correctly when I come in, I’ll get my cane.”
I do what he says without thinking, pushing myself off his lap and heading to the bedroom. The room is dim, lit only by a small lamp on a bedside table, but I like it, because it smells like leather and cologne and power. Like him. Classy, masculine, strong. It’s tidy and sparse in here, but I don’t bother taking in details. He gave me instructions, and he can keep his fucking cane.
“Cane or cock?”
My mind plays back the memory of that choice he gave me before we knew each other. When he was still stripping me of my pride and teaching me a lesson. I’d chosen the cane. Now, my answer would be different.
I strip my clothes off, hissing when fabric scrapes against my tender skin. I ball up the clothes, toss them somewhere onto the floor, and scramble onto the bed. My chest hits the satiny bedspread. I arch my back and wait for him.
I can hear him moving in the kitchen, but he’s taking his swe
et time about it. He controls every bit of this, and he won’t let me forget that. I inhale the clean, powerful scent of his bed, and knead my hands on the soft, satiny bedspread. Time ticks on, and the longer I wait, the deeper I sink into submission. I feel calmer. Relaxed. Ready to take whatever he does to me. My thighs are slick with arousal and my pussy throbs. I want to rake my fingers through my folds and bring myself to climax. But I know better. That’s for him.
After what seems like an eternity, I hear him approaching. His footsteps come closer. And then I feel his presence in the room before he says a word. I hear him walk over to the side of the bed. “Good girl,” he approves. “You did exactly what daddy asked.” He touches my head, flicks my hair to the side, leans down and kisses my neck. “Such a very, very good girl.” I sigh in contentment. I crave his touch and his approval.
His hand travels from my head, down my neck, and over my bare skin. I shiver but hold position. When he reaches my ass, I squirm. He squeezes, and clucks in approval when I whimper. “Good,” he says. “You took that strapping well.” I freeze when I feel his thumb trailing across my ass. No one’s ever touched me there except him. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Yes, daddy.” My pulse spikes. He’s going to push me to another level of submission.
“And you’ll submit to me?”
I nod. “Yes, daddy.” My voice comes out in a whisper.
“Good,” he says. “I need you to know this as we go into the field together. That you belong to me.”
I nod and grip the blanket harder.
He lets go of me and I stifle a moan. I want his hands on me. When he touches me, I’m alive and when I’m primed like this, craving his domination, I hate losing his touch. I hear the sound of a drawer being opened beside his bed. He opens something, and his hands rub together. I look out of the corner of my eye at him. His gaze is hungry, almost ravenous. He’s going to devour me like a wolf, and in this moment, anything less would be imperfect.
Kneeling on the bed behind me, he trails his hands over my ass. Liquid glides across my scorched skin, and then he’s lubricating me. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat.
“Colt,” I whisper.
“Trust me, baby.” I release my fears into the void of trust. My breathing slows. My heart still pounds, but now a slower rhythm of anticipation. I feel his cock at my pussy, gliding easily through my folds, and I long for him to fill me. But he does what he wants, and right now, he wants my ass. Gripping my hip with one hand, he slowly works my ring of muscle with his thumb. “The key is to relax,” he says. “Settle down. Let me lead. Then feel, baby.”
I nod. He eases his slick thumb inside. I shiver, and to my surprise, arousal races through my limbs. I’m trembling, but he’s speaking soothing, calming words. I choose to let go, and he begins in earnest. Stroking, pumping, sending shivers through my body until I’m ready to burst with need and want. “Good girl,” he approves. “Such a dirty, naughty little girl. I own this cunt. Soon, I’ll own this ass.”
He positions himself behind me, and then his cock replaces his thumb, silk-sheathed steel. I let out a breath and let my muscles loosen. He glides more lube over us until I’m slick and ready, then reaches for my nipple when he penetrates me. I’m so distracted by him teasing my breast, I don’t tense when he enters me. He knows what he’s doing. He thrusts, and my pussy vibrates with need and arousal. Over and over he glides into me, firmly but gently, his cock stretching my skin tight. I’m sinking into this, my world shrouded by his claim over me. He works my nipple and fingers my clit. I want more. Harder. Faster. His breathing hitches and he groans and spills into me. One more swipe of his finger on my clit, and I topple into bliss. My climax strangles me. I can’t breathe or speak, but this is a death I’d welcome. I moan and squirm as my body’s wracked with pleasure.
He leans down and kisses my shoulder. “Good girl,” he whispers. “You did it, baby. I’m so happy to call you mine.”
I’m floating. It still feels surreal. We just fought a battle and now we’re victorious. The spoils of our battle?
Me. Him. Us.
“Best thing I ever did was sneak into that damn vent,” I say, as he withdraws and goes to the bathroom to get something to clean us up.
“Stupidest and smartest thing you ever did,” he growls, giving me a half-glare, half-smile. He comes back with a warm washcloth and brushes my hand aside so he can clean me up himself. “You risked everything, Agent Lee.”
Jesus, I love it when he calls me that.
“I did,” I say. I lean back in the bed, floating and happy as he strips his clothes off and climbs into bed with me. “I have no regrets.”
He climbs into bed and pulls me onto his chest. “No regrets,” he repeats with a smile. “I’ll never fully tame you,” he says almost regretfully. But when he leans down and kisses my temple, I know. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue
Rico
The FBI isn’t what it used to be.
I just watched one agent whip another agent’s pretty rear and approved of it. It was satisfying as hell to see that brat get her comeuppance. If the option had been open to me, I would have taken my belt off and thrashed her the day she stood in my office and told me she’d ignored every piece of protocol she’d ever been taught in order to get on the Brava case.
If it hadn’t been for Brava ending up dead, she might have gotten away with it, but bodies lead to investigations, and my investigation concluded with her spunky little ass being a large part of the problem.
Firing her was a no-brainer at the time. I didn’t count on Colt being so attached to her, and I didn’t consider the fact that if she’d been almost anyone else, she’d be hailed as a hero. She thinks it was a sexist decision. It wasn’t. It was a reckless rookie decision. Those Rambo types are spotted and weeded out at Quantico. I guess she slipped under their radar. She flew below mine too.
Now she’s back on my team. Did I just make a mistake?
I don’t think so. One, I don’t make mistakes, and two, losing Colt isn’t worth it. I’d have a hundred hair-brained rookies cluttering up the office if it meant keeping him on board. And there’s nobody I’d trust more to bring an out of control girl to heel. If he doesn’t do it, the rest of the boys will. Miss Lee put a big target on her back with that stunt and now everybody has heard about the brat that brought down Brava. More than one of them have a bone to pick with her over it. The bureau is like a wolf pack. There’s an order to it—and she’s at the bottom of that order
* * *
It’s a good week or so before I see hide or hair of either Colt or Sonya, but eventually his recuperation is over and he’s back to work. Which means she’s back to work. She has no status other than as his shadow. There’s unofficial word out that she’s not supposed to speak unless spoken to.
I was worried she’d come back cocky, acting like she’d won some battle against the rest of us, but whatever Colt’s been doing with her since he tanned her hide seems to be working. She’s behaving herself. Can barely meet my eye, but she follows Colt around like a puppy.
Time to put the Brava case to bed and give the pair of them something else to do. With the man himself six feet under, wearing a bullet in what remains of his brain, I think it’s safe to say he won’t be causing anybody any more trouble again. I wish I could say the same for this duo
I call them into my office, get ready to brief them. Colt strides in, his bearing easy and casual as ever. He’s already put everything behind us. It’s Sonya who still wears the shame of that spanking. Good.
“I’m taking lead on this next case,” I say. “I want you running intel.”
“You want me behind a desk,” he snorts.
“You said you’d do your time in the shit trenches,” I remind him. “This is that time.”
“Fair enough.”
Colt knows how far to push me. He learned it long ago, when he found out how far was too far. Now he stands there, his arms folded acros
s his chest, looking at me with keen interest. This man loves crime. Sometimes I think the reason he does so well undercover is because he’s a natural criminal himself. The look, the attitude, the capacity for brutality, it all fits.
Sonya sidles up beside him and tries not to look too interested as I lay out the next case file. There are several men in the packet, and one woman, striking enough to hold all our attentions as she stares out of the surveillance image with a natural rebellion in her stormy gray eyes.
“You’ve heard of the French Connection,” I say, talking to Colt more than Sonya. “Small French gang, started working through Brooklyn about three years ago. They weren’t on our radar for the first year or so of their operation, until Agent Fraser turned up dead. Everything pointed us to Leon Francoise…” I jab my finger at the photo next to the pretty girl. It’s a rough man, similar features to the girl, but heavily dosed in testosterone. “But we didn’t have any evidence to properly link him. We’ve been looking for a way in. I think we’ve found one.”
I shuffle the pictures back so the girl is back on top. She has pale blonde hair pulled back from her head in a more elegant version of a ponytail. Her features are exquisite, high cheekbones, a soft, near perpetual pout, pretty little nose which could have been sculpted by one of the Italian masters themselves. She has modeled before, both in France and in the USA. She’s a real high class broad. And she’s complicit in a series of crimes that are going to see both her and her brother go away for a very long time.
“Jasmine Francoise. Jay-Freeze on the streets,” I introduce her as if she’s actually in the room. Truth be told, sometimes it feels as though she must be. For the last six months, I’ve been keeping tabs on this girl. She’s always a couple steps ahead of me, and when she lets me catch up, it’s only to gloat. We’ve developed a cat and mouse relationship, one where the mouse is starting to get a little too comfortable with the idea the cat can’t catch her.
