by Megan McCoy
“Yes,” she said less confidently. “My earrings.”
He motioned for her to follow him as he turned and left the room. They walked down the hall to the living room. “Maggie, this is my brother, Logan. I picked him up early this morning.”
Logan looked nothing like Sebastian. He had dirty blond hair and the cutest little beard. Wearing jeans, sneakers and a polo shirt he looked the epitome of country club class.
“Hi,” she said, painfully aware of her no underwear, short shorts, baggy shirt state. Had she even given her hair more than a quick brush? She knew she had no makeup on. Why did she care? She didn’t. This boy-man was nothing to her, and she needed to concentrate on the fact this real man saw that she’d opened every drawer in his bedroom and she’d given him the lamest excuse ever in the history of lame excuses.
“Nice to meet you, Maggie,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’ve naturally heard nothing about you.”
“Hi, Logan,” she said, completely baffled. Was this the reason he left her in the night? Didn’t she feel even more like a child now?
“I had a bit of a problem and luckily Bastien was close enough to come help out,” he smiled at her and she saw the resemblance between the brothers.
“I ought to blister both your butts,” Sebastian growled, turned and stalked out of the room.
“Do you always bring out the best in him?” Logan asked her with a twinkle in his eye. He didn’t seem worried about the threat at all.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said. “I live next door.” She offered.
“And just happened to be here unexpectedly.” Logan nodded sagely.
“I should go home,” she said.
“Don’t rush out on my account. I’ll only be here for a few hours. Lucas is coming to pick me up soon,” he said and sat down on the couch, patting it invitingly beside him. “Come on, I’ll find us something fun to watch.” He grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on.
“My dog needs out,” she said and fled toward the front door, but then heard a very stern voice calling from the back of the house, “Maggie! Come back here!”
Not quite knowing what to do and not looking chuckling Logan’s way at all, she stopped, sighed and started walking toward the back of the house where his bedroom was. Why didn’t it occur to her not to? She had no idea.
As soon as she walked in the room, he kicked the door shut and pulled her in his arms, kissing her like she was a drink of water and he was a thirsty prospector. She was not expecting it, but relaxed in his arms, returning his kiss and feeling his alpha male wash all over her. She loved it.
“I’m sorry I had to leave,” he said, in her ear. “I’m sorry you took it the wrong way, too. Right now, though, I have to deal with Logan. As soon as I’m done, I’ll be over, and I’ll give you a spanking for being an insecure brat that you apparently need, then we can spend the night together.”
She melted, and he had to hold her up when her knees gave way.
“Okay,” she breathed into his mouth, willing him to kiss her again.
He obliged.
“When I get there, I want you in the baseball jersey and nothing else,” he said. “I’ll text you and I want you with your nose in the corner, waiting for your spanking.”
Looking up at him, startled, she found for once her smart mouth had nothing to say. All she could do was twirl around, blush hotly, give Logan a wave, and leave out the front door to the sound of Logan’s laughter. He was nothing like his stoic brother, was he?
Once home, she paced. She had no desire or inclination to work on her computer or do anything else. Corrine called her once, probably wanting to rehash the ball game, but she didn’t want to do that either. Letting it go to voicemail, she kept an eye on Sebastian's house. His brother called him Bastien. He didn’t look like a Bastien. Did he? What did a Bastien look like?
He was going to spank her when he came over. Her stomach, and lower, pulsed with anxiety. There was no doubt in her mind he would follow through, and though she would protest, she would still be in the corner dressed only in her baseball jersey and nothing else when he came over. Did she need to shave her legs? Of all the panicked things to think about, that one would matter. She’d showered this morning, she was fine, she reminded herself.
She got her jersey shirt from the dryer, and laid it out over the back of the couch. How far down would it go, she wondered, and she also wondered why she didn’t just not do it. Why she was accepting what he said, and couldn’t imagine not doing it? Why?
There was no doubt in her mind she would do as he said. Looking around, she wondered which corner she would stand in? Looking at the front door, she eyed the corner across, where he would see her the minute he walked in. Should she do that, or in the corner of her bedroom in case someone came over unexpectedly? What if Ben came over? He wasn’t coming over, she reassured herself, and she really wanted Sebastian to know she did as she was told. Maybe he would go easier on her if he saw she minded him.
Minded him? What was she, twelve? She didn’t have to mind him, she was a grown person who could do anything she wanted. Sighing, she realized she wanted to do what he told her to do. She enjoyed feeling his authority, and while the spankings were no fun in the moment, she rather enjoyed the anticipation of one, when he gave her a little warning anyway, and the after the fact where her bottom throbbed hotly, and he held her and used real words to comfort her and make her feel better.
Sighing again, Maggie kept pacing, her little shadow right behind her. She told him a few times he didn’t need to follow her, but he paid her no attention. His little legs were short but sturdy and he kept up easily, thinking it was a new fun game.
His house seemed quiet, for a while. What had Logan done? Had car trouble? What else could it be? Who else would you call in the middle of the night with car trouble but family? Well, Triple A. But family would be better. They were kind of obligated. She hadn’t heard his phone go off, but admitted she was so exhausted she wouldn’t have heard a text tone. Smiling, she remembered why she was sleeping so well. His fault. She would have to work harder to wear him out as much and then maybe he wouldn’t be checking texts and taking off.
Finally, a few hours later she saw a long, blue convertible pulling into Sebastian’s driveway and someone who looked exactly like Logan got out and walked up to the door. Twins? He didn’t tell her his brothers were twins. Not that they’d really talked about them much, she guessed. She watched out the window and kept an eye on her phone. Finally, she changed into her jersey, and pulled shut the laundry room door on Simon where he snoozed. All she had to do before he came over was slip out of her shorts. Heart pounding and cheeks blushing at the thought, she found a box of tissues and put it by the couch, then found another and put it by the bed. Where was he going to spank her? Why was she just accepting this instead of protesting or fighting? All she did was open a few drawers! And lie to him. Yeah. That. She hadn’t lost her earrings. He knew that.
Did she have time to cruise her favorite websites? Maybe have a bit of self-induced relaxation? No, she didn’t trust him not to show up unexpectedly. As soon as she saw the two blond guys and the big, blue car pull out of his driveway, she dropped her shorts and panties, folded them up and laid them on her bed, and put her phone where she could see a text. As soon as she got it, she knew he’d be here in a few minutes. Or would he? Would he make her wait for hours? She didn’t know. She just knew she had to—wanted to—be ready when he came in. She felt very naughty waiting for him, knowing what was going to happen and clad in her jersey and nothing more.
It grew dark before she got the text. “On my way.”
Finally. Maggie didn’t know what her emotions were. This is what she always dreamed of. But having experienced it, she wasn’t certain she wanted to again. Yet, she did. But there were the nerves. And what did Sebastian think? Was he mad at her? All she wanted was for him to be over here and for them to be together, like they were last night.
With no silly childish nonsense between them. If that meant she had to accept a spanking, well, that seemed a small price to pay. Until she went over his knee and experienced it again.
She walked to the corner clad only in her Jones’ Equipment jersey, and on impulse, bunched it up above her waist so when he walked in he would see his submissive female, nose in the corner, bottom on display, ready for her spanking. What would he do? Would he like that? She dropped her shirt, then picked it back up again. There was the door. He was coming in.
And, of course, he wouldn’t say anything. What did he have against the English language? He needed to use it way more often than he did.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” She heard the door lock click behind him and felt a sense of relief that no one else could walk in. She still didn’t drop her jersey and he didn’t say anything about it.
“You left me. Again,” she emphasized. “With no explanation.”
“I left a note,” he sounded a bit astonished.
“Which explained nothing and made me think I’d been used.” She still hadn’t moved from the corner and still left her bare bottom on display for him. Darn right she was going to top from the bottom and if he didn’t realize it, well, that was his problem, wasn’t it?
“Used?” He said it as if it were a word he didn’t understand.
“Yes. Like you wanted me for sex and then left me. Like I meant nothing to you but a hole to screw. Used.” She dropped her shirt and whirled around.
“No,” he said, taking a step closer to her.
“Oh, well. That makes everything better.” She rolled her eyes and almost wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but had told too many students it was unacceptable to even consider it.
“No,” he repeated, and she regretted not being fully dressed and able to figuratively spit in his eye.
“No means nothing,” she said as softly as she could. “Nothing.”
“It means you were wrong. I didn’t use you.”
“Yet, it was twice now we got close and you walked away from me.”
Sebastian saw the pain in her eyes, heard it in her voice and for some reason, cared. He’d hurt women before, of course, but knew they would get over it. This one, he wanted to comfort and let her know he hadn’t used her. That she wasn’t fungible.
Was he capable of doing that? He needed to think on it. First, he’d promised her a spanking and he had to deliver that. Then he needed to have a good think on what she had said and what he was feeling. That was for later and right now, he knew he’d disappoint her if he broke his promise to her.
He turned, walked to the kitchen and picked up the wide, wooden spoon she kept in a crock on her counter. Then turned around and called her. “Come here, now,” he said, as he pulled out a kitchen chair.
She came in and looked at the chair and the wooden spoon with huge wide eyes and he understood she knew what was going to happen. She clutched her bottom with both hands and took a step backwards.
“What happens to little girls who throw tantrums?” he asked sternly, not sitting down in the chair yet. She might run, who knew?
“I opened a few drawers. Looking for my earrings,” she protested but didn’t look him in the eye.
“What happens to little girls who lie?” he asked and smacked the wooden spoon against his palm.
She looked up, then looked down, but her hands never left her bottom. Yeah, she was expecting it and he would not disappoint her.
“They get spanked?” she whispered as if it were a question.
“Yes,” he said, then sat down in the chair, and patted his leg. “Over you go.”
He felt a little bad she felt deserted because that was his fault. He had left her, but... Well, but what? He didn’t know.
What had happened to him? He had women, many women and trained them all just like he wanted them, and then happily and easily moved on with no remorse. What was it about this one? He didn’t want this one to leave him. He wanted to take care of her and be the only one to discipline her and make love to her. He didn’t want to cheerily hand her over to someone who would take advantage of her training. His.
She walked over slowly, and he could see the desire and trepidation in her big brown eyes. It would not stop him from doing what needed done, however. He would not let her down again. Standing in front of him, she whispered, “I’m sorry for being a brat,” and then put herself over his lap.
The first crack of the spoon made a lovely red mark on her bottom and she gave an expected reaction. Jerking and stiffening, she went into ‘you can’t make me cry’ mode, he could tell. He’d never understood it. Sure, he was of the ‘bottoms could take a lot’ way of thinking, but he never understood a stoic response. Bravery? Stubbornness? He didn’t know, but he knew that part of giving a good and needed spanking was watching the antics of the naughty brat over his knee. The bottom wiggling and turning from very pale pink to often quite red. The transformation of an often elegant and poised woman into a sobbing, kicking, squalling, sniffling mess. Knowing only he had the power to make it stop, and that she knew it, too, though that often didn’t stop them from trying by begging, pleading and attempting to roll off his lap.
Sebastian started a steady staccato of wooden spoon smacks against her bottom, and half smiled realizing her stoic behavior didn’t last very long. Well, she was pretty new to this entire spanking thing, he realized. Newbies were often shocked at the severity of the sting. The wooden spoon was one of his favorite implements and he played it well. Five smacks to one cheek and five to the other, then a few low and sweet, those made her jump every time. He liked the view. This one was going to be serious. The drawer opening was a childish prank, and he halfway understood that, but the lying about her earrings? He knew darn good and well she didn’t have any earrings on when she came over. She had started wiggling dramatically now, and he gave her five more and then stopped but didn’t rub, letting the sting make his point. “Lying to me?” he said, and swatted her again, making her gasp and let out a sob.
“I won’t have it.” He emphasized each word with a sharp swing and smack of the spoon, and each time was pleased to hear a deeper sob and see an instinctive jerk. He knew her tightly closed legs, in an effort to preserve some sense of modesty, would give way to kicking soon.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?” he asked. Yeah, sorry wasn’t good enough.
“Being a brat,” she wailed, not looking at him, but propping herself up on her hands.
“Why were you being a brat?” That one seemed to stump her, and he knew the best way to her brain was through a sore bottom so started in again. This time three quick smacks to each cheek and two to the sweet spot before repeating.
Maggie thought she’d been over his knee her entire life. She didn’t remember a time her butt wasn’t on fire and vowed to burn that wooden spoon in the fire place as soon as she possibly could. It stung like nothing she’d felt before. Giving in, finally, she lost any modicum of self-respect, though seriously, what did she actually have with her bare bottom over his lap where he could see anything and everything?
“I’m done, no more, no more!” she sobbed out. She should know by now, that begging didn’t stop it. What did? Some time, when she wasn’t over his knee, she’d have to ask him but for now it was all she had. “Ow! Please!” She wiggled hard. “Not there! Please, please!” Panic set in.
Desperately, she threw her hand back to try and stop him, and when he grabbed her wrist felt even more helpless. At least she didn’t have any pants to kick off this time. She could feel the sobs building and finally couldn’t hold them back anymore. This was going to go on forever. How could she deal anymore? She couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. He was going to kill her, she knew it.
She cried, not caring anymore. It was the only thing she could do. He had all the control, all the power and it was over her. That could be hot if she wasn’t in so much pain. Why had she wanted this?
It took her a
few minutes to realize he’d stopped the spanking, and was speaking words. She couldn’t hear them, she was crying too hard and she couldn’t stop. He must have realized that, because he was pulling her up onto his lap. His pants rubbed her sore bottom and not in a good way. He had hold of her wrists and wouldn't let her rub.
Weirdly, she only wanted to seek comfort from the one who inflicted her such pain. He held her, petted her and said some words she couldn’t understand until he finally said, “Back to the corner with you.”
Shaking her head, she held onto him tighter. “No?” she whispered.
“Yes. I want to see that red butt over there in that corner. Hold your shirt up high so I don’t miss a thing, and don’t you dare rub it, or you will be back over my knee for a second session.” He sounded very stern, as if he meant business. Clinging to him, she tried to get a reprieve, but he stood her up on her shaky legs and informed her again, “No rubbing. Corner, now.”
Maggie walked back over to the corner she’d stood in earlier, this time with his handiwork blazoned on her back side, and tried not to smile through her tears. This was what she’d always wanted, but dang, did he have to spank so hard? She’d have to work on that. Some other time.
“Shirt,” he said.
Oh, yeah, that. Fisting her shirt in front of her she made sure he could see everything he wanted and everything he’d done. Yeah. That. She couldn’t stop the smile this time.
Chapter 6
Maggie shivered outside the courthouse and clung to Sebastian’s hand. She’d had to face the man who attacked her earlier and it shook her badly. Thinking she wouldn’t be upset had been naive on her part. It had brought everything that happened to her, flooding back. She shook her head, trying to shake the smell of his breath and the feel of his hands out of her brain.
“I want to go home,” she told Sebastian, plaintively.
“I’ll take you home,” he said. “It's over now, and you’re safe with me.”
She was, she knew that. But she gave a huge shudder again, thinking of him in there, trying to sue Sebastian for injuries sustained. The ones the idiot sustained when Sebastian was trying to stop him from raping her or worse. What kind of slimy lawyer would even take that case? Apparently, there was one, but at least the judge had common sense and had thrown the case out before she had to testify to what happened. She knew she would at some point, but the case for assault was backed up for some reason and this one got to trial first. Who knew how court worked? She was glad she didn’t. Or didn’t until now. Classrooms were much more pleasant to be in than courtrooms. She shivered again.
