by Jane Henry
“That you know what I need,” she whispered.
“I do, honey,” Paolo said. “I'm learning. We both are.”
She swallowed, overcome with emotion at his tenderness. It felt different than when he held her hand, or kissed her before bed, or said something sweet and lovely. Having been punished by him, the gentler side of his love for her felt like balm to the soul.
“I know what you need, bonita,” he murmured. “And I'll give that to you.”
He paused. “And how do you feel now?” he whispered.
Meredith felt his arms around her. She no longer felt angry, or sad, and though her bottom still stung like crazy, with every shift and stab of pain, the sting she felt reminded her that he loved her. That she'd been forgiven. He'd left his mark on her, and she'd been claimed as his.
“I feel safe,” she whispered.
“Good girl,” he whispered back. “On your belly now, baby,” he ordered gently.
He released her, and she scooted over. God, it stung, worse than she'd ever experienced before, and she knew she'd feel it for a good long while. She obeyed and rolled over on her belly as he'd asked. She felt him reach down and pull the folded blanket up over her. She sighed. His hand reached to her and gently stroked her back, over the top of the blanket, and traveled down to her bottom. She winced, but welcomed the feel of his hand.
Suddenly, she felt tired. Exhausted. As much as she wanted to be closer to him, to make love and feel that connection, she could hardly move. The entire experience left her feeling completely emotionally depleted. She didn't want to do anything but lie here, next to him, with the warm blanket over her and his hand on her, reassuring and tender.
“Rest now,” he ordered. “This was not easy for you. Try to nap. I'm going to stay here with you. I'll wake you in a little while, as I have more plans for you.”
More plans for her. She sighed, her eyes closing. What did he have in mind? She didn't know. But she knew she would obey him, the last thought on her mind as she drifted off to sleep.
***
For the second time that day, Paolo watched the sleeping form of his wife next to him.
He reached down and brushed a damp curl from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
“Sweet girl,” he murmured. She looked so calm, and at peace, which was amazing to think of when he thought about the awful spanking he'd just given her. He'd really let her have it. Unbeknownst to her, he'd tested the spoon out thoroughly on his own leg, and he knew exactly how much it hurt before he returned it to the bag on the dresser. He had done his research online, and knew that the size and shape of that spoon would leave a good lasting impression, but be bearable and not do any damage. He didn't like administering such a severe spanking, but he'd agreed to be her dom, and at the core of a dom's responsibility was looking out for the welfare of his submissive.
She couldn't be allowed to disobey him. It was at the very foundation of their understanding. If he was going to lead her, she needed to trust him implicitly. He couldn't allow her to hurt herself, or put herself in danger, and he wouldn't allow her to hurt them. If she disobeyed or disrespected him, it was his duty as her dominant to punish her. He knew that, in time, she would learn to obey him, and he would also learn how to keep the balance of stern and gentle in check, by listening to what she said and watching her cues.
If anything, he'd learned how very important being consistent and firm was. She needed to know she could count on him, even if he didn't want to punish her.
Paolo knew they had a long way to go. There would be trial and error ahead. There would be times when he would drop the ball, and there would be times when she'd misbehave. And they'd deal with that. But he couldn't help but feel they'd crossed a major hurdle.
Their bond had been put to the test and tried, but they'd passed the test. Their bond had been strengthened.
Chapter Nine
Meredith walked to her car feeling like she was floating.
Floating.
It was the same way she'd felt last night, after Paolo's “end of the weekend” session with her. He'd scared the ever living life out of her by telling her he had more plans, and hell, but the man had plans.
He'd tied her up and blindfolded her. He hadn't spanked her—she was far too sensitive after she'd been punished—but he'd teased, and teased, and built her up to not one, but several earth-shattering orgasms that left her spent, but undeniably sated. She smiled to herself as she opened her car door.
He loves me, he loves me, he loves me!
He'd simply doted on her, taken her out to dinner, brought home a bottle of wine, poured it for her and laid out a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and whipped cream.
Shit, but he'd had fun with the whipped cream, slathering it over her and licking off every last bit. She giggled at the memory. Who knew he was such a romantic?
Her phone was back in her bag, but she wasn't tempted, as she usually was, to check messages and emails. She'd enjoyed the time apart from others, just the two of them. She felt… closer to him. In awe, really. She couldn't help but respect his stern dominance and control, that was anchored in his deep, abiding love for her. He wanted her happy. He wanted them happy. And the way he lavished her with his tenderness the evening before reinforced how much he loved her.
She giggled to herself as she opened the car door. Her phone buzzed. Paolo.
“Everything okay, honey?”
“Just checking in on you,” came the deep, sexy rumble. God, he was so hot!
She laughed out loud. “To make sure I made it to the driveway okay?”
“There are dangers out there,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You could've tripped leaving the house. Could've been bitten by a snake. Carjacked.”
“A snake?” she said incredulously, laughing out loud now.
He chuckled on the other end of the phone. “I'll miss you today, baby,” he said. “So much. Come back to me.”
Come back to me.
“I will,” she whispered. Her nose stung and tears blurred her vision. Her instant reaction startled her, but she swallowed against the emotion and nodded.
“Be a good girl,” he ordered gently.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered back.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
As she disconnected the phone, the distance between them was already palpable. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Even though she struggled with submitting, even though at times she wanted to rail against him and reclaim her freedom, she'd obeyed his commands. She'd disobeyed him, too, and he'd punished her. Hell, she'd earned the spanking of her life. As she folded herself into the car, she winced when her bottom hit the seat. Sore. Hell, she was sore.
Reaching for the seatbelt, she snapped it on.
She asked herself how it made her feel. The soreness, the reminder of being taken over his knee… At first, she felt shy, and it made her squirm to remember how soundly he'd punished her the day before. But as she started the car, and the bright sunshine streamed through her window, she shifted again, and felt the twinge of pain. And she smiled.
He'd spanked her. But he'd punished her because he loved her and hell, but she deserved it. He'd spanked the brat out of her. And when he was done, there was nothing but repentance, forgiveness, and the compelling desire to reconcile what had been broken. He'd held her, kissed away her tears, and taken care of her.
He loved her.
She remembered how he'd held her. She remembered how he'd snagged her hand as she'd turned to go to work, and he'd fingered the gleaming golden ring on her finger.
“Remember one thing today, bonita,” he murmured. She paused, ready to listen, eager to do whatever it was he told her to, cued into absolute obedience.
“Remember that you're mine.”
Meredith shifted again on her seat, and as she felt the painful reminder of her spanking, she smiled to herself.
Mine.
She smil
ed as she pulled out of the driveway.
Later, when she was at work, and she sat down at her desk she felt the painful reminder again and smiled to herself.
Mine.
She smiled as she stood and felt the twinge when she moved.
Mine.
***
Babe, we need to do drinks. Where've you been?
Meredith glanced at her phone. Kirstin. She squirmed a bit. Hmmm.
Right here, just been busy with P. Let's totally do drinks!
Tomorrow night?
Meredith frowned. She couldn't answer right away, because she'd have to ask Paolo. And as she lifted her finger to reply, a sudden thought came to her.
What if he said no?
Eyebrows raised to herself, her fingers flew over the keys in response.
I think it's good but I'll have to ask Paolo.
Ha! Yeah, of course, ask your man. I know how that goes.
Meredith smiled to herself. Did she really know?
I'll let you you know. ;)
Sounds good, babe. You good?
Meredith smiled.
I'm awesome. You?
Can't complain, baby. Talk to you later.
Meredith put the phone down, and continued transcribing the notes her boss had given her that morning. But her mind kept wandering. She hit the backspace key, fixing the third mistake she'd made in one paragraph. Never one to make mistakes, she was always on her game when at work. But she was unfocused. Her mind kept wandering to Paolo… Paolo, patting his lap for her to lie over. The way he'd pulled her head back, a spike of delicious pain running down her spine, kissing her before she left for work. The text he'd sent her on her mid-morning coffee break.
You being a good girl?
Glancing at the clock, she realized she still had hours to go, and after work she'd have to stop and hit the grocery store. It would feel like forever before she'd have a chance to see him again. She felt the twisting in her stomach, the desire to drop what she was doing and go to him. It was an almost physical need, a craving to be back where she belonged.
She needed him.
Shaking her head, she looked at the clock again. What the hell was wrong with her? It had only been one weekend. Last Friday, she hadn't felt like this—the separation between the two of them feeling like a chasm, the desire to be back with him again, where she could breathe easier, just knowing he was there. God, she wished she could talk to Little Lady. Little Lady would know what was going on. She'd know why she felt this way. And she'd know what to do. Maybe she could log onto the forum, and—no. She felt a jolt of fear at the sudden realization that she was thinking of disobeying Paolo. He'd told her, the night before, after they'd had dinner, and were on their way home.
“I don't want you on there alone.”
When would she be able to connect with Little Lady again?
With a sigh, she decided it was time for her lunch break.
She stood, grabbed her bag, and felt the vibration of her phone again in her pocket.
Don't forget to eat, baby.
Paolo. She smiled again, picked up her phone and dialed, as she waggled her fingers through the glass window to Tom, her boss, who was knee-deep in a pile of papers on his desk. He waved back, and turned back to his desk.
“Hey, honey,” Paolo answered.
“God, I miss you,” Meredith said, surprised at the catch in her throat when she heard his voice.
His voice dropped. “I miss you, too, baby,” he said softly.
She swallowed. “What are you up to? Get any lunch yet?”
“I did. Robbie came over and brought subs. We spent some time in the front yard, working on the flower bed. Fixed the stones in front that were wiggly, too.”
Smiling, she pushed the button on the elevator.
“I didn't know you were going to do that today. That's awesome!”
“Yeah, it looks great. You know how we talked about moving my workshop up to the garage, so I could get on some of that cabinetry work?”
“Yep,” she said, as the doors to the elevator closed.
“It's gonna work out better than I thought. We moved some old stuff, and set up the workbench today. I'm really liking how it's coming together.”
“That's awesome!” She felt hopeful. It had been so hard for Paolo being out of work. He'd always worked with his hands, was a master carpenter, and the accident put a serious damper on what he could do. But now, with the request for custom cabinetry work, he had the chance to go back to the the work that came so naturally to him.
“Yeah. I can't wait to get my hands on my tools again. I have a certain tool in mind I want to make myself. A very special one.”
The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped into the bright sunny day outside her building, turning to go to the parking lot where she'd parked.
“That's great, honey,” she said, not fully processing what he'd just said.
“I need to take some measurements first, though,” he said.
“Uh huh,” she said absentmindedly, turning the corner.
“And I need to research the difference between the feel of varnished versus unvarnished. That spoon is varnished.”
The sudden realization smacked into her and she came to a screeching halt. Her lips twitched, while at the same time a spike of fear caused her heartbeat to accelerate.
A special tool. Varnished wood. The spoon.
“Uh, yeah. It's varnished, all right. Whatever it is you're making, I vote unfinished.”
His deep chuckle came through the receiver. “I said you had a vote?”
She dipped her head, fully conscious of the crowd milling around her.
“No, Sir,” she whispered shyly.
He chuckled again, and she knew he was only teasing. When she thought back about the day before—how he'd spanked her into submission over his knee, then listened as she'd cried, how he'd taken her to dinner and fed her strawberries for dessert, made sweet love to her until she was weak and fully satisfied, wanting for nothing—she felt shy. The thought of disobeying him scared her. But when she really dwelt on it, the prickle of fear became a sort of shy admiration.
“I'll leave you to your lunch, baby,” he murmured. His voice dropped. “Come home safe to me, Meredith.”
His voice had deepened, all teasing gone now. It was an order, an order to come back to him safe and sound. She wasn't used to this. It was new, and different, but not at all unwelcome.
“I will, Paolo,” she whispered. “I promise. Yes, Sir.”
As she walked to the little coffee shop nearby, the sudden realization hit.
She wasn't the only one who's view had shifted.
He wanted her safe, and home with him, because she was precious to him.
She smiled, a thrill coursing through her so that she felt an almost giddy pleasure.
Life was good.
***
Paolo waited in the living room for her, watching the clock like a little kid. She would be home now any minute. Even a month ago, he'd have been doing his own thing, fiddling with the online cabinetry videos he'd been watching, reading a book, trolling the forum, or watching TV. Sometimes he went out with Robbie and grabbed a beer, and occasionally, he'd be in the kitchen making dinner. But if she came home late, or stopped to do some errands before she came home, he hardly ever noticed.
Now he was watching the clock like a hawk. He'd given her a time he expected her back, which left ample room for traffic and her quick trip to the store, but absolutely zero leeway for screwing around and getting lost doing her errands. He insisted she text him before she left work, and when she was on her way home from the grocery store. But now he frowned, looking at the clock. He didn't like her at the store alone. He wanted her home with him. This wouldn't happen again. Going forward, they'd do their shopping together.
Paolo wanted her thinking of him while she was gone, and he knew giving her specific guidelines for where she could go and when to come home would help her stay focused on hi
m. It was an interesting paradox. So many women pushed for their freedom and autonomy, staunchly holding fast to the desire to make their own decisions and be viewed as equals. But he knew—from what he'd read online, and in his own conversations with Meredith—that the submissive desired freedom and autonomy only inasmuch as her dom would allow. She needed structure and guidance. How that would work in each dynamic would differ drastically, but it was in embracing the structure and guidelines that she would gain her freedom.
He remembered the tagline on the “Loving Servitude” forum he and Meredith frequented.
Where there is submission, there is freedom. Where there is dominance, there is responsibility. In both, there is love.
Freedom in submission. Freedom. He wanted to give that to her.
In both there is love.
There was a reason it was called the power exchange. It wasn't just about him taking control. It sure as hell wasn't just about him spanking her ass, or about removing her autonomy. In taking on the responsibility of leading her, there was a beautiful exchange he was only now beginning to realize more fully. Exchange. She would give him her trust. She would grant him respect, acceptance, and the sweet beauty of who she was, unadulterated, vulnerable, and pure. And in return—in exchange—he would give her freedom. Peace. The tranquility of a house without discord. The quieting of a troubled mind. He would cherish what she gave him and in so doing—in understanding and meeting her needs—she would know without doubt how precious she was to him. She would rest in the knowledge of his love for her.
In both there is love.
Yes.
Yes, it was beginning to make sense to him.
He'd granted her mercy this weekend, at great cost. She'd spiraled out of control after he'd let up on her, and although initially he was confused, he now understood that she needed him to control more, not less. He looked at the clock again. She had ten minutes. He frowned. If she came home late, unless she had one fucking good excuse, there would be no welcome back kiss, no making dinner together, or talking about their day, until he'd put her over his lap and spanked her for disobeying him.
