"It's an interesting set of impressions, effects that don't truly set in until the spanking is over," he had explained as he hefted the small paddle, one just large enough to effectively deal with one cheek at a time, she judged, and ran the pad of his thumb across one line of the artfully drilled holes. "Not too long after the punishment is over, just about the time the sting begins to abate a little, the little white blisters begin to surface. And when they do, they impart a certain deep and distressing itch. Dealing with that irritation frequently results in some interesting flexing and shimmying and pleading to be allowed to rub, I am told."
Andee had listened with crimson cheeks and a dry mouth, unable to offer any comment to the bearded craftsman with narrow hands and long fingers who had so casually described the aftermath of a spanking with his favorite paddle to her. Thankfully, he had not seemed to expect much in the way of a response and had simply smiled at her cheerfully and then asked if it would suit her purposes. She had finally managed a nod.
She felt Nick's palm across the span of her bottom, tapping gently the same landscape he had belabored so fiercely just moments before.
"Warm-up's over, baby. Time to get down to business. When I'm through, you're going to take yourself right over to that corner by the door and think about things. And if I don't see a decided change in attitude, we'll start over. Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes," she whispered with a little catch in her voice. "But I'm already sorry. I don't have to think about it."
"You're surface sorry with a slightly warm bottom. You'll find the depths of sorry in a few minutes, and it will be a whole different ballgame, one you're going to be able to recall with great clarity for quite some time, if I do my job right."
He skimmed her panties down in the time it took her to moan a response to his promise, and then laid the cool surface of the paddle against her skin. She clenched in automatic protest and he tapped gently.
"You know better. Tell me what I need to see, missy."
The word stuck in her throat. He helped release it with a series of five attention-garnering licks that did little more than skim the surface of her round pink cheek, but did remind her of the necessity to comply.
"Jiggle," she gritted out.
"That's right. And lots of it. Don't make me have to tell you again. Now, give me your hand."
She unclasped her fingers, grasping a handful of linen with her left hand and angling the right behind her. Nick took it in his own grasp and settled it in the small of her back, just inches from the soft flesh he intended to punish thoroughly.
Changing the angle of his right leg slightly and pressing down into her spine with the hand that held her own, he forced her into an even more revealing posture, one that opened up the sensitive under curve of her plump little bottom completely. Then he went to work with a will.
He delivered a half dozen tongues-of-fire licks, evenly distributed between cheeks and firm enough to make tears gather in her eyes before he spoke again.
"You have nursed this anger for way too long, little girl," he said, and the intensity of the smacks he was delivering seemed to increase. "People made mistakes." He moved from the crown of each tender buttock to the crease where it met thigh. "The only one who can has asked your forgiveness." She began crying and bucking against his restraint, but still he kept up the stinging assault. "You can give it and begin again, or you can hold on to it and destroy part of both of your lives."
Something about articulating the choices seemed to move him to even more impressive efforts with the torture tool he was gripping in his hand.
Andee was sobbing openly now and doing her best to evade him, rolling her hips from side to side as much as she was able and giving in to the clench he had warned her to avoid.
"That's not going to cut it, baby," he said gruffly. "You were warned."
The assault on her bottom stopped for a moment and then she felt a chilling rush of liquid over the territory he had so recently warmed. She forced herself up enough to look back over her shoulder and catch a glimpse as Nick set the bottle of water he had just used to give her a thoroughly wet seat back down on the table. He seemed totally unperturbed by the dampness to his own clothing or the bed linens.
He picked the paddle up again and proceeded to dry the liquid with sharp smacks delivered so quickly and so randomly across the expanse of her bottom, she could hardly catch her breath enough to cry out. But when she did find her voice, she used it forcefully in definite protest.
"St-stop. It hurts. Please. I'm s-sorry."
"Yes, I imagine you are. But not sorry enough yet. That's coming, though."
She begged. She pleaded. She pounded her bed and tried to kick her way free. Still the paddle bit, again and again, now in no discernable pattern, but always with fierce fire.
"We're not through with this until I know you've made the right choice, if I have to spank you so hard you really can't sit down until sometime next week."
She no longer considered that an idle boast. She believed him perfectly capable of delivering exactly what he promised and cursed herself inwardly for ever giving him such power.
"And don't think you're through when you finally decide you can come to terms with your father. Because I'm not through until you come to terms with yourself. It's Andee forgiving Andee I'm going to have, however long we have to stay here."
No punishment he had ever meted out before was as intense as this one, they both knew. Andee was so centered on the pain in her flesh she was taken completely by surprise at what happened next. Between one searing smack, aimed at the aching flesh she would be sitting on all too soon, and its twin, delivered on the other side; between one long wail, punctuated with mindless babbling to articulate her pain, and the next sob, the dam broke inside her.
She collapsed across his thigh, gasping for air, her body trembling.
"Oh, God. Oh, God," she whispered, brokenly, and Nick lowered the paddle one final time, blinking back tears of his own.
Afterwards, when she stood in the corner, crying quietly but feeling curiously light and fresh inside, she discovered the truth of Mr. Choyz' warning. She didn't need visual proof that her thoroughly punished cheeks were breaking out in blisters, the maddening itch was its own assurance that the paddle had done a thorough job.
She was grateful Nick did not forbid her to clench, although he did remind her she was to keep standing upright with her hands on top of her head and her knees locked. In fact, the defensive action seemed to do little to ease the problem, but it was a motion she did not think she could have stopped for the life of her.
She could only imagine the picture she must present, but even that shame was bearable, along with the sting and the maddening itch, because she knew she was so close, so very close to having everything she needed.
Fifteen minutes in, Nick stepped behind her, turned her into his arms and cradled her head against his chest with one hand while he tenderly rubbed the flesh he had damaged with the other.
"It's all right now, sweet girl. Everything is all right. You've paid the price, and you're forgiven. It's time to move on."
And now, she found she finally could.
Chapter Thirteen
Nick shivered.
The orchard was cool, even in the midst of summer's sizzling heat. In mid-February, it bordered on icy, and the breezes that swept across the elevated site, high above the city, could accurately be described as frigid.
He had mentioned that small detail to Andee when he realized she was planning their Valentine's Day wedding in the middle of the abandoned orchard on his family's farm.
"But it's perfect, in every other way," she had said with a slight frown. "The orchard means so much to you, and since you won't have any family there, it will be the closest we can get to having your ancestors with us. Just think of it, all around us, the memories and the history and maybe, some way, their spirits with us, dreaming a future for us like they dreamed for themselves. Oh, please, I don't care if I have
to come down the aisle in ski boots and a toboggan. I want to promise I'll always love you, way up there above the rest of the world, where we can look over that stone fence and see nothing in the way of our future together—just endless possibilities."
He would have moved heaven and earth at that point, even if she had not tucked herself under his chin and snuggled in as though she were already celebrating his acquiescence. The tickle of her fingertips on the sensitive spot just behind his left ear and the little kisses she trailed up his neck and onto his mouth set the hook firmly. Reeling him in was a piece of cake.
So now he stood, ramrod straight and handsome in his black tux and stiff white shirt. The pale green canvas pavilion he had rented was comfortable enough, thanks to the warm air fans he had also secured, that the fifty guests or so and the minister appeared to be perfectly content. He assumed it was nerves and nothing more that had goose bumps chasing up and down his spine and spreading across his shoulders.
Andee had been right about the setting, he had to concede. He felt surrounded by affection and good wishes, and he was perfectly ready to believe not all those came from the flesh and blood friends who were there to celebrate with them. His view, the one he would share soon with his bride, was of a breathtakingly beautiful blue sky, a special February treasure. Not a cloud or the faintest brush of gloom was to be seen through the front of the tent that had been opened to the landscape. There was only a serene vista, framed by graduated containers of greenery and magnolia blossoms, serving as wedding décor, and the stone wall his great-great-grandfather had constructed well over a century before.
They had been pleasantly surprised, once news of their engagement became public, to learn how many people planned to join them. Their excited faces and the good wishes they had already pressed upon him as he made his own way to his assigned position almost made up for the absence of family.
A single small dart of regret pierced his otherwise soaring spirits as he realized they were beginning their family with so few blood connections to pass on to their children. There was only Richmond Carlisle, and the future of his relationship with Andee was still decidedly unsettled, as she struggled to come to terms with the secrets she had learned so recently. Whether the man who had raised her as his daughter would ever be allowed to play the role of grandfather to her children, provided their dreams of a family materialized, was far from clear, even though she appeared to have found forgiveness for everyone involved in the tragedy, including herself.
It was the one area of their lives Andee was still quiet about, although she had sought his help in dealing with her guilt and regrets, painful though she knew the price would be. He knew his discipline and the atonement had helped her move on, but she had not yet told him exactly where that journey was taking her.
He was very much aware of a new peacefulness in her attitude, though, over the past two weeks. It gave him hope for the future.
The music that had been a pleasantly soft background for the quiet buzz of conversation among the guests suddenly shifted in intensity. More robust chords billowed the sides of the tent slightly. Nick glanced toward Evan Piccoult, his best man and oldest friend, who had traveled from Florida for the occasion. He had spent the past two nights regaling Andee with stories of their high school adventures, college pranks, and ongoing collaborations.
The one area Evan had not been able to shed light on was Nick's career as a writer. That was a secret the nervous groom had never shared with anyone else in the room, or anyone he knew face to face, except his editor, who sat in the second row now and smiled a wicked smile at him, her knowing hazel eyes behind cat-eye frames showing him she relished being part of such a small minority.
He favored both friends with a grin and edged forward slightly, just enough to see around the front row of guests as Leila Tremelow appeared inside the tent flap at the back and began to make her way down the aisle in a simple jewel-toned blue sheath. The dress was the perfect accent for the sky-blue view guests would be focused on during the ceremony.
The corners of her mouth curled into a slow smile and she dropped one eye into a wink that assured him his wait would be more than worthwhile once his bride appeared. And, if he wasn't mistaken, she gave Evan an interested once over, as well. The best man apparently caught the review, too, and coughed discreetly into his hand as he shifted his feet slightly. Nick, now privy to some of the things Leila was looking for in a relationship, had a dozen more bars of the song to consider what that might all mean before the selection changed again.
Suddenly, it was time. Hands connected to discreetly invisible bodies swept back the tent flaps and Andee was there, framed against an open avenue of gently sloping grass bordered by the bare branches of dozens of peach trees that had been wound with twinkling lights. He knew the details because they had discussed them, but they were nothing more than a soft haze now, when all he could focus on was Andee.
Her gown was a slender column of delicate white lace that featured a sweetheart neckline, setting off her natural honey-toned skin and perfectly showcasing the deep but narrow cleft between the sweet fullness of her breasts. Her dark curly ringlets were swept away from her face and cascaded down her back, clasped beneath the blush veil that skimmed her shoulders and kept him from seeing directly into her deep green eyes. She carried a simple bouquet of greenery that trailed ivy and tiny white rosebuds to her knees.
For a moment, there was no one else in the world but the two of them as she stood quietly, watching him as he watched her. The veil could not obscure the way her full red lips curved into the smile he had loved from the first time he saw it.
She raised one hand, pressed her fingertips to those lips and then blew a kiss toward him, a silent communication that drew a delighted murmur from their guests. Then she took two slow, stately steps forward in perfect time to the music, just before, almost abruptly, she stopped and turned slightly to her right.
She hesitated a moment, but the audience cut off his view of whatever had detained his bride so suddenly.
He saw her head dip just slightly, then come up again, slowly and decisively, her shoulders settling into an attitude of firm commitment. He could tell she had raised her arm toward an unseen face in the back row, and he knew a moment of uncertainty and concern. This wasn't the way they had practiced it.
As though sensing his confusion, she looked across the heads of their guests and reassured him with a smile that he hoped would live in his memory for all eternity. Then she turned back to the unknown person she had summoned with her simple gesture.
A silver gray head came into focus for Nick above those of their guests. He saw Richmond Carlisle rise to his full height, step into the aisle hesitantly, and stand looking down into Andee's eyes as though waiting to be shown the door. Nick had no idea when he had slipped into the tent. His heart pounded in that eternity when the two who had been so estranged for so long faced each other and came to a decision about their future.
In that moment when the tension in his heart reached a level he was not sure he could survive, Andee slowly moved to turn back her veil with both hands. Then his beautiful bride leaned carefully toward the man who had loved her all her life, kissing him gently and sweetly on each cheek. Then she slipped her arm through his and, thus, summoned her father to take his rightful place beside her as she walked down the aisle to begin her new life with the man who would love her for all of his.
Epilogue
Andee opened her eyes with an effort. She tried to stretch. It cost her a moan.
"Hey, careful. You've got too many bumps and bruises to do much of that," her husband whispered.
"I will never, ever do something you tell me not to again. I swear," she said, wiggling cautiously to find a more comfortable position in the crowded bed.
Nick laughed and reached for her hand, the one not partially encased in a bright pink fiberglass cast. "We both know how much that promise is worth. But maybe you'll at least pay attention to me from now on if I say you'r
e headed for danger when you take off into the dark on your own. I had hoped that little lesson with a peach tree switch last year would teach you something about listening to me. Apparently your memory is not what it used to be."
She grimaced. "This isn't how I meant everything to turn out. Not how I envisioned it at all. And I didn't mean not to mind you. I just felt so terrible, and I was so scared, and all I could think about was getting to the hospital as fast as I could."
"So this time was nothing like the day when you were so upset at me that you ran away in the orchard? Then you almost tumbled over the fence. Remember?"
"Not a thing like that," she assured him pitifully, her big green eyes smudged with pain and fatigue above pale cheeks.
"Yes, well, that's not quite true, is it? The fact is, I tried to warn you about hurting yourself both times and you ignored me both times and had to pay the consequences."
"I don't know which was worse," she said, "a sore bottom or a broken arm and all this—other stuff. Good grief, is there nothing I can move that doesn't hurt?"
He kissed her fingers and released her hand to reach across the hospital bed they were both crowded into—she on doctor's orders and he because he had to be as near her as possible. He cupped her face and leaned over to kiss her gently.
"It could have been so much worse, you know."
She sighed. "I know. It's not going to get worse, is it?" she asked with a worried frown.
"You mean have you earned yourself a spanking for this little stunt? You deserve one. No question about that, but, all things considered, I'm willing to give you another chance. I think you're going to be feeling the effects of hitting that frozen rut on your little backside and sliding all the way out to the car for a while."
"I wasn't thinking about how slippery it could be. I just knew I needed to get to a doctor. Ugh. I've never felt so sick in my life." Her stomach roiled, still, when she thought about the terrible cramps and nausea she had experienced two nights before.
Leading Her Home (Lessons From Nick's Firm Hand Book 2) Page 12
