“Better?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Sir. This is also punishment.” His voice was loving.
“Yes, sir.”
He leaned down to kiss her forehead and then pulled back looking into her face.
“You are better.”
She nodded. “So are you.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I am.”
He led her over to the sofa and Cheyenne sucked in a breath when she saw a leather strap, the small thin one that concentrated its sting. The one she loved to hate so much.
“This is discipline, a lómhara and you will know it when we are done unless you’re safe wording.” His voice stayed calm and steady. “You’re my whole world. The person I get up for in the morning. You’re who brings a smile to my face and a spring in my step. You’re also the one who can set my temper flaring and my hand itching. I can’t and won’t allow you to take the types of chances with yourself as you’ve done recently. And after this lesson, I hope you never do it again.”
Cheyenne shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Good.” He sat down and pointed the way she should lay over his knees.
This was it. She accepted either that he would discipline her or she wouldn’t. If she didn’t, she knew he would not force the issue but what would happen after that was anyone’s guess. He said she could challenge him, but if she did and his mind was not changed, she accepted his discipline. This brought them back to the question of, did she accept it. She wanted to clarify, and if it was the right answer, she knew she would. This time, anyway.
“Sir?”
Quinn looked up in surprise before softening his full continence in a smile. “Yes, a lómhara?”
“I don’t think it’s fair to punish me because I’m afraid to do something.”
Quinn reached up and pulled her onto the lap he was ready to lay her over and waited. She put her head on his shoulder allowing him to draw her in snugly.
“I really am afraid and have been for a long time. I have this crazy panic when I see a doctor in his office. Since I was a little girl, I’ve panicked. And then, with dad dying in the hospital, it just cemented that fear of anything doctor.”
Quinn kissed the top of her head.
“Honey, that isn’t what this session is about. I agree, disciplining you for having fear is irrational. I wouldn’t do that, but when you’re risking your health and welfare by misrepresenting the facts because of a particular fear, we have a problem. Then not allowing me to take care of you, not being honest about how sick you were, and disobeying when I try to help you is why we are having this session.
“But if that’s what this is about, it all stems from my fears.”
“No, that isn’t true. We agreed that your health, our health was important and not to be neglected and yet, you’ve found no opportunity except when you were too ill to avoid the doctor visit before saying you have a fear of pretty much the whole medical community. Not just that you don’t like doctors, which I knew, but to the panic attack stage, which I didn’t know.” He shook his head in non-acceptance. “You lied about how sick you were on purpose, not by saying you were afraid to go, but by misrepresenting your illness. You disobeyed me by not going and not explaining you had more than just a problem with doctors. You did it all without saying one word about having a tremendous fear of physicians. So, unfortunately, while your fear is an issue we will deal with, that isn’t why we are having this session.”
His tone had gotten firmer, more confident and less gentle, signaling that he was soon going to call the talking for this session at an end. She knew he was right, and she wanted to be resentful of it but couldn’t. Did she accept this was how it was going to be, how she needed it to be, or did she say no?
Cheyenne took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Quinn looked relieved, and she could only guess he expected to battle this out and then force the issue, but she ended it.
“We’re good then?” he verified.
She nodded. He lifted his eyebrow. “Yes, sir, we’re good.”
Her thigh was patted to signal it was time to get up and go over his knee. Her tummy did flips, her sex lubricated, and her heart swelled. She was loathing the actual spanking, but her body knew it was a craving. She had no desire but to be naked before him. Her heart lay bare, her mind, body and soul naked to his touch, his kiss, but at risk of his pain, open to his correction.
It was the moment of acceptance of her faults, her broken parts, her needs and all of his. She had to accept his healing so that she could affect some healing of her own. This was the first real step to accepting him, really accepting him.
She slid gracefully over his lap. She had enough practice in the sexy spankings for this part to be second nature. As was always his preamble, he ran his work-hardened hand over her smooth skin, heightening her awareness and her senses to his touch. She relaxed in the familiarity of the simple, predictable act. Smack, smack. Within moments, he lit into her pretty little ass like lightning gone rogue, covering every part of her bared striking zone.
Oh, God, this isn’t sexy, this hurts. The whimper slipped out before she could corral it. He rubbed again.
“This,” Quinn started, his voice strong and instructional, “is for honesty. If you had been honest with me…” his hand landed hard twice in the same spot before changing cheeks to repeat the action, “…you would not have gotten so sick that an emergency visit to the doctor was necessary and a hospital preferred.” Spanking in the same two and two tattoo rhythmically in time to his words, he continued.
“So you lied to me. We agreed to not lie to each other and you did it to cover your dishonesty about was wrong with you. You told me it was your monthly to get me off your back when you continued to not feel well. I won’t believe you next time, you know. In fact, for quite a while, I won’t believe you at all when it comes to your health.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Good, but it won’t help you now until you’ve built up trust again. Trust, that’s a great little word. It means…” he moved his party to the underside of her cheeks, “…that you believe in me and my love for you. That you have confidence that I’ll understand your problems and help you through them even if I don’t fix them for you.”
Cheyenne was sweating, and she wanted to soothe her bottom and kick her legs. She had to concentrate on not doing that. Her breathing picked up. Quinn slowed down and caressed her backside again.
“Stand up, mo milis, it’s time to finish this off over the back of the sofa. You know the drill.”
“What? Wait. I don’t, I mean, do we have to?”
“Are you playing your yellow card?”
“No, but, maybe I want to safe word.”
“Do you? We aren’t playing, baby, and it really isn’t on the table. Do you need yellow?”
She hesitated, and he waited, as she knew he always would. “No.”
“Right, then drape yourself over the sofa, beag amháin.”
Cheyenne whimpered again, knowing the handprints on her bottom were still vibrating, and the heat would only build if he added leather to the mix. Her breathing picked up. She wasn’t sure she wanted to endure. She would submit but taking correction in that submission was hard.
“Cheyenne, you need to do as you’re told and listen to me for a minute. Health, safety, honesty, trust—all areas you’ve violated and I have just about had my fill of you trying to take control when you’re in the wrong. Even if we were not in a lifestyle such as ours, it would never be okay for you to lie to me, endanger your health and safety or violate our trust for each other.”
She heard the belt slip from his belt loops and the ominous swish made her tremor in anticipation. Wait, the belt and the strap, surely not. She loved that strip of leather he wore around his waist, and she hated it. She could imagine him rolling the whole of his palm that grasped the buckle with the beginning of the belt leaving a perfect length
for delivering his message. The tingling again and her sex flooded. The anticipation hurt her tummy.
The swat was a decent thawp. Okay, harder than play, he was serious. “Ahhh. I get it, Quinn, don’t lie to you.”
Thwap. Thwap. “Quinn, I understand. Honey, I get it,” her voice tremored. Thwap. Thwap. “I won’t do it again. I won’t do any of it again. I was wrong. I’ll talk to you.”
“Better.” He stopped to run his hand on a bottom she was positive glowed.
Cheyenne was praying he was done when he swung again, and she was about to screech, Yellow only it never landed. The expected kiss of the leather never happened. She heard it hit the floor, buckle clanging.
“That’s all, piscín. I think we understand each other.”
She relaxed. He knew. He had an uncanny way of knowing how far to take her but not further. He paid such close attention. He had earned her trust repeatedly. Proven his love by not going past what she could endure. He lifted her up after kissing and loving on her tortured behind to comfort her. He had been careful not to land on her upper thighs, and his belt had only licked the sweet spot once, but leather and her sit spot were always a memorable meeting.
Bringing her up, he led her to lie partially on him after which he pulled the throw off the back of the sofa and snuggled her in close. It was an incredible feeling to be swaddled tight to him. Her bottom was hot but so was the rest of her. She wiggled provocatively, moaning with the friction of her mons on his jeans. He swatted her once, bringing her up short. It only made her hotter.
“I know what you need, piscín, but we need to finish talking about this doctor problem.”
Cheyenne fiddled with his snaps on his western shirt unsnapping two.
“Stand up, Cheyenne.”
“NO,” she yelped. “No. I’ll stop.” She released his shirt with a huff of exasperated unmet need.
“We need to talk before I light your fireworks.”
“Ha. You already lit the match. I just need you to touch it to the fuse and let them go.”
His laugh came from deep in his chest making her almost purr. “Duly noted.” He changed his tone. “I think I have an idea of what we might do to start lowering your fear of doctors and their workplaces.” He stopped to bring her head up for a kiss before continuing.
“Realistically, you can’t go without ever seeing a doctor, and when we have children, you’ll need to see a doctor often.”
Cheyenne lifted her head up. “No, see, I have that all worked out. I don’t mind nurses, and probably a midwife would be fine.”
He nodded, but she could see he was skeptical. “Listen to my idea.”
Cheyenne did cautiously before agreeing to try his idea out but with all her safe words deployable. They decided to start work the next weekend.
Chapter Four
Quinn waited for Cheyenne to change behind the divider in the medical playroom. It had been just over a week since the discipline session, and Quinn said he wanted to begin working on her fear of all things doctor. Cheyenne was a hard sell. It had required some convincing, a few phone calls and a planning meeting with their friend Doctor Carter Taylor before Cheyenne agreed to try Quinn’s plan. While none of them was sure about what would actually happen, they hoped for the best.
Cheyenne felt small and out of control as she went behind the divider to change. She needed to use the restroom again. The taste of fear became metallic as blood from her bitten lip coated her tongue. Cheyenne had never been in a scene or played with anyone other Quinn and that heightened her skittishness, causing her anxiety to permeate every cell of her body. She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill.
Cheyenne knew that Master Carter, known as Dr. Taylor tonight, had set it all up, so when she and Quinn arrived, they would be ushered into the room by Julie, a club trainee.
“If you’d please undress, Miss Sterling, the doctor should be in shortly.”
They’d agreed to follow wherever this took them no matter where that was, but the one in control was Cheyenne. The single session was outlined meticulously and still Cheyenne’s chest was tightening. In control was not what she was feeling at all. She was fine entering the club and then the almost paralyzing fear began to take hold as she topped the stairs, heading down the long hallway to the playroom. She knew what a condemned prisoner felt like walking to their execution. As she entered the room, her breath was painful. Were it not for Quinn who propelled her forward, she would have run out of the door.
She thought about their last preparatory conversation at a local diner.
“Sometimes with a childhood fear, it helps to go back to that earliest memory and be that child again. It’s called many things but regression is one of them.”
Cheyenne wasn’t so sure. “Wait,” she screeched, sitting arrow straight in her seat, “are you saying you want me to be a little? Like when you and Josh’s Susan is Susie?” Her face scrunched in disbelief.
“Well, yes and no. Susie likes to be a little for a variety of reasons, but as far as I know, one of them isn’t working through a fear she had in childhood.”
“So you just want me to behave like a child?” Leaning away from the words and those saying them, Cheyenne shook her head. “No thank you.”
Quinn reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. “Cheyenne, I don’t think that’s what he’s saying here.” He leaned in and this time, captured her hand in his warm ones. She allowed the contact. “I think Carter is saying that if you would feel more protected as a little, then use it. Children need protection, sheltering, and it’s expected that the adults in their lives will provide that.”
“Hello, don’t you remember anything I told you about my childhood?”
Carter jumped in, casting a cautioning look to Quinn before Quinn dragged her over his knee in response to her sassy mouth. Carter leaned into Cheyenne, garnering her attention. “No, I just want to keep it open for you. Sometimes, according to the club psychologist, if we go back to that earliest memory, try to slip into that place and time when we first felt the fear, it can help replace that fear with empowerment.” He leaned back a bit and shrugged. “You know, like a recurring nightmare where something happens, and we feel powerless. If we plan it out before hand and know what we want to do in that dream, then when it happens again, we are more likely to be able to control the outcome, destroying its hold on us.” He patted her hand encouragingly. “If you find it easier to slip into a younger persona, do it. We’ll follow your lead.”
“Do you know when that earliest memory is, a stór?”
Squinting in an attempt to recall, she shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t really, just by the time school physicals and immunizations came around, I was petrified.”
“Think of what actually scares you so that you can control the outcome. If you can’t, then if you decide you can regress for the scene, we’ll target the age as the entrance into school. Was that first grade?” asked Carter.
Cheyenne shook her head. “Kindergarten.”
“Right then, that’s the plan.” Quinlan patted Cheyenne’s hand in reassurance, and his chair scraped as he pushed it back from the table, signaling the end of the meeting.
Now three days later, here she was ready in a hospital gown. Cheyenne came out from behind the divider in a robe; her breathing was quick and shallow. She looked at the exit and took a step towards it.
“Cheyenne, what’s your safe word, piscín?”
“Popsicle, sir.” Piscín was the thing that reminded her that this was play, pure and simple. This isn’t something I can’t stop. Popsicle will stop play.
“Use it if this becomes too much for you,” warned Quinlan, “but I don’t think it will be. We are going to be careful with you. Yellow is your slow down word.” He reached his hand out to her. “Come sit in my lap while we wait.” She nervously smiled at the invitation.
“Yes, sir.” His lap was a haven of comfort and familiarity that she sank into slowly.
Master Carter came in shor
tly after that, attired in a long white coat with his name embroidered on the breast pocket, equipped with a stethoscope draped around his neck. Quinn stood up, placing Cheyenne’s feet on the floor in front of him. She backed up into him hard in an attempt to escape what Doctor Taylor symbolized—medicine—and find her protector.
“Good afternoon, Miss Sterling. Who do you have with you?” he said, indicating Quinn.
Cheyenne shrugged her shoulders petulantly. She didn’t like this already as her fluttering tummy could attest.
“Is this your daddy?” Carter sent an inquiring look first to Cheyenne and then to Quinn.
She groaned, “At least.”
She felt a solid slap to her right thigh. “Ow.”
Quinn gave Cheyenne a hard look before turning back to Carter. “Doctor Taylor, please don’t allow my piscín to speak to you in that manner.” He looked back at his fiancée still resplendent in a militant glare. “Do not be a cailín beag dána, understand me?”
She slammed her bottom into the vacated chair and tried to hide her wince unsuccessfully. “I’m not a naughty little girl.” The pout came out accompanying crossed arms.
As horrified as she felt in a scene that made her Quinn’s naughty little one, there was a strange comfort in it. She didn’t hate it as much as she expected. That angered her even more because intellectually and professionally she was a woman who worked hard for the respect she enjoyed.
She shouldn’t find comfort in a scene that made her a child. Yet she did. That frightened her. She wanted to throw up, cry, run for the door, but instead, she spoke barely above a whisper, “Yellow, sir.”
She sat in pseudo calm waiting for Quinn’s response, ignoring Master Carter all together. Quinn was immediately responsive, picking her up off the seat and taking her spot, settling her in his lap. She inhaled his scent and closed her eyes, attempting to send her mind out of the room. She snuggled into his warmth and tried to wiggle even further into his protection.
Accepting His Ways (Quinlan O'Connor Book 2) Page 6
