Come Back to Me (Bound to You Book 2)

by Jane Henry

  He'd seen pictures online. Yeah, there were guys who got off on spanking their girls fucking black and blue. And there were girls who got off on getting spanked like that. But no way in hell he'd go there. He'd be damned if he'd leave more than a lingering red on her beautiful skin and that's why he'd used his hand.

  But he'd seen the look on her face when she'd let him down, and he knew then he'd ease into it. Too many expectations at first could make her feel like a failure when she didn't meet them. And that wasn't what this was about. No. He was in charge, and he'd made the decision that they would ease into this.

  Two simple fucking rules.

  No more than two drinks, and be safe in the fucking parking lot.

  His hands shook, temperature rising, as he thought about what she'd done. Not only had she disobeyed him, but her choice had been deliberate.

  He glared down the vacant hallway, knowing she was waiting for him. He'd have to control his anger, and not let it get the better of him. It would be far too easy for him to hurt her. Though he was wheelchair bound, he was much larger and stronger than she was. When she'd confessed her disobedience to him, the temptation had been right there… right there. All he had to do was let it out, let go of his self control, take the lid off, and he could've hauled her by the hair over his lap and paddled her to tears. But no. She would wait until he was in control of himself.

  It would be good for her to sweat it out a bit. He wanted her to have a healthy fear of being punished. Leaning back on the loveseat, still fuming, he thought about how he would approach things for a few minutes and after a while, instead of going down the hall to the room where she waited, he wheeled to the kitchen. She would have to think about what she did. Maybe if she thought about her punishment first, she'd take his command to obey him more seriously and he wouldn't have to do this again anytime soon.

  It hadn't been some fucking haphazard rule. He wanted her fucking safe. No more than two drinks before you get behind the wheel of the car. Don't give some asshole a chance to hurt you when you're alone in the parking lot at night.

  Shit. He shook his head, went to the dishwasher, opened it, and started emptying it. He wanted her to hear the clink of the dishes and glasses and wonder what the hell he was up to. And he hoped the mundane task of putting the clean dishes away would slake his temper.

  Paolo took his time, being good and noisy about it, as he unloaded the dishwasher and took deep breaths. As he did, he thought over the night.

  He had fallen asleep when she tried to call him. This much was true. And when he'd come to, he saw he'd missed several calls from her. He called her immediately, and when he found out she was okay, and hadn't called because the car broke down or something, he figured they were good.

  So what made her so pissy about everything? Pissy enough that she'd disobey him? Frowning again, he closed the dishwasher and shook his head. He had to get into that head of hers. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe one “clear the air” night, the night he'd taken over his knee for the first time… maybe that wasn't enough. No.

  Six months after the accident, he'd done some damage to her trust in him. Meredith had been hurt. And her fear of being left by him again was no doubt influencing her behavior. He sighed.

  It would take more than a spanking and make-up sex to make up for the past six months.

  But he had to start somewhere. And tonight, that somewhere meant he'd be a man of his word.

  She was required to obey him. And if she didn't, he'd punish her. With that in mind, he turned and made his way to the bedroom.

  ***

  Meredith heard Paolo in the kitchen and her mind began to race. Was he getting something he'd use to spank her? What did they even have in the kitchen? She grimaced. Paolo was a carpenter. He'd find plenty.

  She worried her lip as she heard the dishes being put away. How long would he make her wait?

  Why, oh why, hadn't she done what he asked her to do? She twisted her hands in her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. She hated that she'd let him down. That angry look in his eyes, the reproach, it went straight to her heart.

  Was it healthy to be this afraid of a punishment? Was this right?

  The memory came back, the two of them sitting in the restaurant, shortly after revealing he'd been the dom she'd been communicating with online.

  You know now, bonita, that forgiveness lies over my knee.

  And she knew that that's what she yearned for. Forgiveness. She wanted to put her disobedience behind them. She didn't want him to be angry with her anymore.

  She wanted to forgive herself.

  Meredith heard him coming down the hall. Her heartbeat quickened. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, making the decision to face what she needed to. Whatever he doled out, she would take it, knowing full well she deserved it. No, she would not make excuses. She would take her punishment, and take her own step toward reconciliation.

  But as the door to the bedroom opened, she almost lost her resolve. Her eyes flew to his hands, and she breathed a quick sigh of relief. He carried nothing. No wooden board or wooden spoon or something scarier and even more menacing. But in the moment, his large, calloused hands looked plenty scary.

  Paolo shut the door behind him, turned and came to the bed. He got out of his chair and sat on the edge of the bed, still saying nothing. Did he expect her to come to him without a word? Should she stand and go to him? No. No, better to wait for an instruction, she decided. Her heart pounded so loudly she could feel it throughout her entire body.

  When he spoke, he surprised her.

  “I don't want to punish you, Meredith,” he began softly.

  Her guilt intensified. He didn't want to punish her, and was her fault. She felt awful.

  “Then don't,” she whispered. “I'm sorry. I hate that I've put you in this position. We don't have to—”

  “Did I say I'd punish you if you disobeyed me?” he interrupted sharply.

  She swallowed. “Yes. I mean, yes, Sir,” she stammered.

  “Do I always mean what I say?” he continued in the same sharp tone.

  “Yes, Sir. Always, Sir.”

  “Then I do have to punish you. But do you understand this isn't something that's enjoyable for either one of us?”

  She looked down at her hands. “I do. Yes, Sir.”

  She wanted to be kneeling in front of him, his arms around her, sitting in his lap, anywhere but sitting on the other side of the bed feeling like a naughty child. His voice was hard when he spoke again.

  “Then the next time you have the choice to obey me or disobey me, I want you thinking on this. Thinking on the fact that when I stretch you over my lap, I want it to be because you're fucking beautiful to me, not because you've disobeyed me. That when I give you an instruction, it's not because I'm full of myself but because I care about you and want you safe. Need I remind you that not six months ago, we got into a car accident that could've taken our lives?”

  She gulped. “I know,” she said, her voice cracking. “Yes, Sir.” Tears pricked her eyes and her throat ached.

  “Yet still, you decided that drinking that much before you got in the car and drove home to me was a good idea?”

  She shook her head silently; thankful he didn't require another verbal response.

  He exhaled angrily.

  “Get over here.” She stood and approached him on shaking legs. “Strip and get over my lap.”

  Quickly, she obeyed, stripping off her clothing and tossing it on the floor, down to bare skin. She positioned herself over his lap, her head on the bed, her belly flush against his knees, breath coming in shallow gasps as his large hand settled on her naked skin.

  “Are we clear that when I tell you to do something I expect you to obey me?”

  She felt on edge, every nerve sizzling with anticipation of her punishment, as she felt a variety of emotions. Humiliation in being naked to him and being over his lap anticipating punishment. Attraction to his command of the situation. Guilt from h
aving disobeyed him.

  Fear of the pain.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, bracing herself as she felt his hand come down with a sharp swat that took her breath away. She yelped into the bed, but before she could recover, his hand was raised again and she felt another stinging swat of his palm. She squirmed, but he held her tight, his other hand clamped on to her waist. Again and again, he brought his hand down in a torrent, harder and faster than he'd spanked her before. It was all she could do to stay on his lap, as he held her, his voice thundering over her as he firmly administered her punishment.

  “You'll do what I say.” He was spanking in earnest now. This was nothing like the spanking he'd given her before, the slow warmth of pain intermingled with pleasure. She was in agony, unable to think beyond the pain. All thoughts fled and all she could do was feel.

  “And I swear to God, Meredith.”

  Swat.

  Swat.

  Swat.

  She couldn't stay still. It hurt too much. Her mind grew hazy as his hand came down over and over again. Who knew a spanking with his hand could hurt so much? In an effort to take it, she crossed her ankles to keep her legs from flailing up and blocking him.

  “If you ever deliberately disobey me like this again, putting yourself in danger like that, I swear to God I'll take my belt to your ass.”

  Fear shot through her, and she barely choked out a “yes, Sir” before she buried her head back on the bed.

  “Don't you ever put yourself in danger like that again.” And as he punished her, as his words sank in, the guilt surfaced and she felt her emotions clog her throat as she let out a sob.

  “I'm sorry,” she choked out.

  He paused, his hand on her sore bottom, stroking. His voice softened. “Do you understand that your safety is important to me?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  He lifted his hand one more time.

  “Then you do as you're told,” he clipped, bringing his palm down in one final, searing swat that took her breath away.

  She wept as she lay over his knee. It was over. He was done. She sniffed into the bed, her tears flowing freely now, as he released her. She fell to her knees and buried her head in his lap as he stroked her hair and the tears flowed.

  “I'm so sorry,” she wept, and he hushed her, smoothing his hand over her hair.

  “I forgive you,” he said, placing his hand under her chin and lifting her tear-stained face to his. When her eyes met his, they were gentler now. His thunderous anger was gone. Now she only saw his concern for her, the way he looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed her, the prickly feel of his whiskers on her lips mingling with the salty taste of her tears. She exhaled as she kissed him. His mouth released her and his hand fisted in her hair, pulling her to his chest in a fierce embrace. And they stayed like that, her head on his chest, still bared to him on her knees, until her tears quieted and their breathing slowed. All they had to say had been spoken.

  Chapter Four

  Meredith sat in front of the computer, waiting for it to boot. The past week had been an interesting one. After Paolo punished her, she'd been on her best behavior. Eager to please him, she would ask him if he wanted coffee, or something cold to drink in the evenings. She would sit by his feet when he watched the game, and rub his feet, or stand behind his chair and give him a back rub.

  He seemed so much… stronger. So… manly.

  Before she left for work, she would ask him if there was anything he needed from her, and his instructions were usually very simple—drive safely, eat your meals, and come home when you say you will. She obeyed everything he said without question.

  Then why did she feel so off?

  Now that the pain of her punishment had worn off—now that she was no longer embarrassed about being taken over his lap and spanked—the memory caused a stirring within her. She looked at him shyly when she brought him his coffee, or served him dinner. She remembered how stern he'd been. She relived the memory of her punishment over and over again.

  Strip and get over my knee.

  I swear to God I'll take my belt to your ass.

  While doing the dishes, filing paperwork at work, or stirring a pot of pasta, she went over the words he'd said.

  Would he? Would he really spank her again? As the days went by, and she obeyed him, she felt herself grow a little edgy. The memory of the punishment he'd given her began to fade, and she felt doubt begin to creep in again. But what was it she was doubting? Not having given him a reason to punish her, he had no need. Then why did she begin to feel doubtful of his authority?

  Finally, one evening she decided she needed to go out and run some errands, and he'd merely given her a quick good-bye peck on the cheek.

  “Any time you want me home?”

  “Nah, just be safe, honey.”

  Hmm. She tried again.

  “Do you need me to get anything for you?”

  “Nope. All set, babe.”

  As she ran her errands, the unsettled feeling grew more pronounced, and when she returned home, Paolo had been deeply immersed in a book. The feeling grew.

  “May I go on the forum?” He looked up and blinked.

  “The forum?”

  “Yeah. I haven't been in touch with Little Lady since... everything happened. And I'd like to chat with her.” He nodded.

  “Sure, babe. Have at it.” He turned a page in his book as she went to get her laptop. “Maybe I'll join you in a bit.”

  Meredith froze. He'd join her? How would that feel? She turned to him.

  “Have you been on since we… you know, since you…” He kept his eyes on his book but gave a curt nod.

  “Yeah, sure. I go on once in a while.” Meredith nodded, but as she fetched her laptop, she wondered.

  Why did he go? Did he tell Winston what had happened? She hadn't told Little Lady yet but she knew she needed to. She missed her friend. And she wasn't so sure she could do this all alone.

  “Paolo?” He looked up.

  “Yeah?” She swallowed.

  “Did you, um… tell Winston… about everything?” He shook his head.

  “I haven't been to chat or anything. I've just been reading and posting from time to time.”

  What did he read? What did he post?

  As she booted her laptop, she chided herself. It was none of her business what he read. It was a free country. Still, she couldn't help but wonder…

  Sitting on the sofa across from Paolo, she logged on. She hoped Little Lady would be in the chat room so they could chat. This was the time of day Little Lady and Winston were often free to chat. Meredith glanced up at the corner of the page, to the entrance of the chat room. No Little Lady. Her eyes roamed to the little icon indicating members. She glanced furtively back to Paolo. He was still reading his book. Meredith quickly scrolled down the list of members to the M's until she found his screen name.

  Mr. Brookstone. She clicked on his name and drew a sharp breath when she read his profile.

  Name: Mr. Brookstone

  Role: Dom

  Partner: Bonita

  Dom! Bonita! It was out then.

  Under his name was a link to view posts he'd made. Meredith glanced back up at him, feeling guilty for snooping, but too curious to turn away. She clicked view user's posts.

  Her eyes widened as a whole page of his posts popped up, and the dates showed them all as recent. Scrolling through them, she felt a bit of the unease she'd been feeling begin to dwindle.

  In a post written by someone new to the lifestyle, Paolo had written: It's very challenging at first, trying to figure out why it's okay to punish her, especially after you've been married for decades without ever doing anything like that. It's hard to get past the feeling that you're treating her like a child. But, it's hot. Go with that. That's what got me past it at first. I saw the pictures, and read about girls submitting, and I couldn't deny it sounded really sexy. Hell, maybe it was worth a sho
t, liven things up in bed a little. She sure as hell thought it was hot, if the books she was reading meant anything.

  She squirmed. Paolo!

  Then after we started, the first time I had the balls to punish her, I knew it was right.

  Meredith glanced up at him. He did? Huh. She glanced back down at the screen, looking again at the list of posts. In a post labeled “how do you know how much is too much?” he'd responded.

  I don't think there's a hard and fast rule for this kind of thing. But I know this. I would much rather ease into it than take things by storm and hurt her. I'm okay with spanking her. I'm okay with giving her rules that will keep her safe and happy. I'm not okay with railroading my wife, and overstepping my authority. I would rather be slow and deliberate with how I do things than come in guns blazing and risk hurting her, or hurting our relationship.

  She felt a warmth spreading in her chest. Oh wow. He was so good! She loved that he'd written that, and wanted to run over and throw her arms around him. But then maybe he'd ask her what was up, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted him knowing she was scoping out what he'd said on the forum. Would he consider that being sneaky? Well, no, it was all right there for anyone to see, she reasoned. Still, she made sure the laptop was facing her when she looked at the next comment, in a thread entitled “how often?”

  I don't anticipate having to punish her often. She's a good girl, and she wants to please me. Plus we don't have a lot of rules.

  She felt the twinge again, the feeling she couldn't quite identify, begin to surface.

  We don't have a lot of rules.

  She frowned. She wanted rules. He said he was going to ease into things and yeah, that was all well and good, but exactly how much easing was going to happen? Being punished wasn't fun at all, but she enjoyed being spanked. She was certainly attracted to his dominance, of that she had no doubt.

  Then why did it make her feel disappointed that he wouldn't punish her often? She started when she heard the rumble of Paolo's voice from the other side of the room.

  “Checking up on me, are you?”

  “What?” Embarrassed that she'd been caught in the act, she wouldn't look at him at first, but she was curious how he knew when he hadn't gotten up from his seat.