Love Hurts

by Dinah McLeod

  Brandon surprised me by putting a finger under my chin and tilting my head up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "I'm scared." That was just part of the truth. The rest of it was that I'd never felt so vulnerable in my whole life.

  "It's okay to be scared."

  I nodded and rose to my feet. It wasn't until that moment that I felt the effects of the alcohol I'd consumed. I took a step toward him and practically fell on top of him. With a low chuckle, Brandon took my hips in his hands and positioned me until my bottom was right over his knee, which he raised to push it higher in the air. The burning in my tummy now felt like a furnace. I started to take a deep breath to prepare myself, but before I could even fully exhale, Brandon landed a swat on my rear that made me wince. Before I'd even begun to feel the full effects of the wallop he'd applied, he let fly with another one.

  "Brandon! Stop!" I protested.

  "Sorry, sweetheart. You had your chance to get out of this. Once I start a punishment, there's no stopping it." Every other word was accompanied by another spank stinging its way onto my rear.

  "But—it hurts!" I squealed.

  "Put on your big-girl panties," he deadpanned, and it made me so angry that I began kicking my legs in an attempt to get him to stop. He had no trouble holding me down and keeping me right where he wanted me, and the next thing I knew, I felt his hands on my zipper.

  "Stop!" I yelled. "You can't do this! I barely know you!"

  "You should have thought about that before you screamed and cursed at me earlier today. You knew me even less then, so what's the difference?"

  I tried to think of a retort, but he had me there and worse, he knew it. "Please," I said, trying another tact. "It won't ever happen again."

  "Not to me it won't," he replied briskly. "I'm going to make sure of that." I could hear the sound of my zipper being pulled down and when he finished, he hesitated for an instant. I began to think there was hope that he'd changed his mind until I felt the fabric part. He did it slowly, unveiling my bottom like it was a gift made just for him. I didn't know whether to be angrier that he was looking at my butt like that or turned on.

  I didn't have long to think on it because all too soon he was inflicting more punishment on my bottom–the spanks sounded fuller now that there was only one layer of clothing between my bottom and his hand. They stung more, too. Bit by bit, I was feeling my anger ebb, simply because I was feeling too sorry for myself to feel anything else. Each swat made me wish I'd worn thicker underwear instead of the thin, lacy scrap of fabric that did nothing to shield my rear from this onslaught. What had I been thinking? But I knew the answer to that: I'd hoped that things might go a little differently, but no way was that going to happen now. I wouldn't let him touch me now even if he begged, which I would tell him when—

  "Ow!" I yelped loudly after a particularly hard swat to my thigh.

  "What are you thinking?"

  "What?" I moaned, caught off guard by the question.

  "What are you thinking?"

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to make sure you're paying attention to this punishment."

  Paying attention? What, did he think I had a butt of steel or something? I was reading him loud and clear! "I was thinking about what a jerk you are!" I threw back, looking at him over my shoulder.

  "Then you definitely were not thinking about what I just said," he returned, adding another scorching swat to my other thigh.

  "Brandon!" I moaned. "Please. I already said I was sorry!"

  "I know you did. I just want to make sure you mean it."

  Before I could add anything else, the spanking began again in earnest. My entire butt was heating up, from the top of my cheeks all the way down to the tops of my thighs; Brandon wasn't playing around. He was going to make sure that I remembered this for days, if his mean right swing had anything to say about it. I winced at a particularly harrowing blow and found, to my horror, that tears filled my eyes.

  This couldn't happen. Not here. Not now.

  "Please," I choked out. "Please, stop."

  "Not yet," he replied without even pausing.

  "Yes, now," I cried out. When he still kept spanking without heeding me, I began to struggle with all my might to get off his lap. I kicked my feet up, barely hitting his hand, but I at least made contact. When that didn't work, I leaned over and sunk my teeth into the denim covering his legs.

  "What do you think you're doing, young lady?" he bellowed in such a voice that I began to doubt myself.

  "I told you to stop," I said in a pathetic whimper. I found myself pulled up, and before I knew it, I was being pushed back on to the couch. The instant my backside made contact with the leather couch I winced. Quickly, I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand and faced his eyes that were shooting daggers at me.

  "I told you, once I start a spanking, I see it through. I am going to go get the hairbrush so that I can paddle your bottom, but before I do, would you mind telling me what your problem is?"

  His severe tone almost made me dissolve into tears right then and there. Why could just a stern look from him make me feel remorse? I'd never cared what anyone thought before. "I just..."

  "You need to talk a little louder and speed it up, Karen. I am really losing my patience."

  "I don't want to cry," I blurted out. Once the words had escaped I couldn't look him in the eye.

  "What?" he asked. "Are you serious? You don't want to cry, so you throw a temper tantrum that earns you an even harder spanking?"

  I sniffled. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

  "You didn't hurt me, Karen, but you certainly aren't going to like where your actions are going to lead."

  "I don't like crying in front of people," I admitted. Of course, it was more than that. I didn't cry in front of anyone, never had since my Grandma, and that had been almost twenty years ago.

  I don't know if it was my wide, scared eyes or my soft tone that convinced him, but the next thing I knew, he was sitting on the couch next to me, his leg pressed against mine. "Look, I understand. But spankings are supposed to hurt, they're even supposed to make you cry."

  “Can't we just skip that part?” I pleaded, my voice breathy as I looked into his mesmerizing eyes.

  “No.” He traced his finger over my parted lips. “We can't. But if you're a very good girl—then maybe we can do something more fun when we're done.”

  His eyes looked like liquid pools that I wanted to drown into. Breathing had suddenly become difficult, as my chest had tightened. “What do I have to do to be a good girl?”

  “I'm going to get the hairbrush. You wait here and when I get back you're going to take your spanking. No more hitting, no more biting. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes.” The word came out barely a whisper.

  Brandon bent his head down and kissed me lightly, long enough for me to arch my back and hope for more. Sadly, that was not to be the case. I was learning quickly that Brandon meant what he said. He wasn't gone long, but every second I sat there on my tender, throbbing rear waiting for more punishment was an agony. Suddenly, my earlier outburst seemed so stupid. I should have known not to make a man like him angry.

  When he came back, hairbrush in hand, my eyes were pulled like magnets to the implement. It was black oak and it looked deadly. "You can't hit me with that thing," I said weakly.

  "Remember, Karen. Be my good girl."

  Oh my God. His words robbed me of the power of speech–I didn't want to talk ever again. I just wanted to melt into a puddle on his floor and stay here forever. When he sat down and patted his leg, I placed myself over his knees without hesitation. I was acutely aware of the way my hips pressed into his hard, muscled thighs.

  "We're going to leave these on for now," he murmured, patting my bottom. That did it. A shiver of delight traveled through me, and I had to work hard to stifle the moan that came to my lips.

  From the very first swat, I realized my mistake. No man, not even this god-like hottie, was wo
rth the unbearable sting that penetrated my bottom with each swat of that wicked hairbrush. Before I could beg him to stop, the tears came. I tried to wipe them away, but another jarring swat landed, throwing me forward on his lap. As swat after swat rained down, eventually I gave into the sobs. Before long I was crying over his knee, which I continued until I didn't think I could ever cry again. I'd never felt so worn out in my life. My eyes were sore, and I knew if I looked in a mirror they'd be as red and bloodshot as if I drank the whole bottle of wine by myself. I didn't know when he stopped spanking me, but I could feel his hand pressed down on the small of my back and knew without having to ask that he wasn't going to let me up just yet.

  "Have you learned anything?" he asked suddenly.

  "Um...not to bite you," I replied, my lips still quivering. "Sir."

  "That's a good lesson," he chuckled. "Anything else?"

  "No kicking?" I guessed, crying again as heat continued to radiate over my rear.

  "Also good, but why did I spank you in the first place, Karen?"

  "For b-being mean," I answered.

  "You're too sweet of a girl to be mean," he replied gently.

  I couldn't imagine where he'd gotten that. Was he so delusional that he took my usual take-no-shit attitude for PMS? "No one ever calls me sweet."

  "Well, now someone is and you need to live up to it."

  "But—"

  Two sharp cracks of the hairbrush to my tender orbs cut off my protest and had me sobbing again over his lap. Brandon waited until I calmed down, patting my back as I cried. When I finally settled down, he continued. "No more cursing at people just because you are unhappy with a situation. Understand?" I heard what he was saying, but I didn't think it was something I could agree to. Almost as if he could sense my hesitation, he asked a question that had me trembling. "Do we need to continue this discussion?"

  "N-no, Sir."

  "See? You can be sweet."

  I opted not to reply as I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't risk more stinging blows to my posterior.

  "Then it's settled. You're going to watch that sharp tongue and that potty mouth of yours?"

  "Yes," I panted out, just to make it stop.

  "I'm not convinced."

  Three more sound smacks of the hairbrush to the back of my thighs convinced me to say what he wanted to hear. "Yes, Sir!" I practically screamed out.

  "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Brandon helped me sit, but wouldn't let me off his lap. All I wanted to do right then was to crawl into a hole and bury myself alive.

  "Depends on your definition of 'hard'," I retorted.

  "Karen, do you really want to take that tone with me right now? Think about it."

  "No. I'm sorry," I replied, trying to stand up. I didn't really like him seeing me so helpless; I didn't like being helpless. Even if, for a moment, it had felt good to let go and let someone else handle things for a change.

  Brandon held me on his knee, not letting me escape to nurse my wounds in private. "See? There's that sweet girl I was talking about. Why do you keep her locked away?"

  I shrugged, but he wasn't falling for it.

  "I mean it. Why do you always have to treat everyone with hostility? Why not just be you, the way you are right now?"

  "Because that's apparently only who I am after I've been spanked," I quipped.

  "Karen." He drew my name out slow and sweet. "Who are you trying to kid?"

  It wasn't a question I knew how to answer, so I let myself think of how close he was holding me, how safe I felt in his strong, muscular arms. It had been a long time since someone made me feel protected. I'd been telling myself for so long that I didn't need anyone to protect me that I'd never realized how nice it could feel. I ignored the part of my brain that told me to get out of there and quick before my she-devil reputation was ruined. Instead, I settled against him, trying to ignore the burning heat in my ass.

  We sat there, cuddled together for several long, silent moments during which the world seemed to stop, leaving only him and the way I felt with him. I couldn't remember the last time I'd stopped thinking about deadlines, meetings and conference calls. It hadn't been in a long time, I knew that. I stopped taking vacations, because no matter where I was, I couldn't ever really get away from work. I thought it might last forever, us sitting together just like this with me nestled in the crook of his arm. Then he had to go and ruin it.

  "I think I might know what was wrong with your car this morning."

  "You think you might know?" The words were spoken with surprising lightness—which was understandable considering how light my heart felt at the moment.

  "Let me try that again. I know why your car stalled out and I think it might happen again real soon if you keep driving like a maniac."

  "Excuse me?" I drew back to look him in the eye. "What are you talking about?"

  "Today when I finished with your car you peeled out of there like Satan was on your tail. If you always drive like that, it's no wonder your car died. In fact—"

  "Oh, no," I groaned. "Is this another lecture, already? Is that how this is going to go? You're just going to start running my life?"

  Brandon reached over and caressed my face gently, lovingly, as he met my eyes. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear before bending his head to mine. "If you'll let me."

  ***

  I don't know what made me say it; maybe it was the after-effects of a soundly spanked rear, or maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was for the way looking into his eyes made me feel like I didn't have to try so hard, or for sheer wanting to. Whatever the case, I didn't hesitate. "Yes" was on my lips before he'd even finished explaining. What he proposed was out of the ordinary, I'd give him that. It wasn't my typical arrangement, but then, my "typical" arrangement meant finding a guy who'd sit and be quiet when I talked, never interrupt or protest, and I'd date him until I was bored with him or he with me.

  He'd already improved the experience ten-fold. I was used to people wanting a piece of the pie when it came to my business; I was used to them wanting my opinion, and paying dearly for it. I wasn't used to someone wanting to be around me. I was still stunned that he'd even consider it, after how I'd treated him. I'd more than expected for him to blister my behind and send me on my way, but he hadn't.

  He'd offered so much more. He'd given me an out, he'd shown me a way to be free, at least when I was with him; a chance to let go all of all the stress and burdens that came with my career. I just didn't know if I was brave enough to take it. Could I hand over the control when I was so used to having the final say? It sounded daunting to me and more than a little kinky.

  I'd heard of BDSM before, sure. Who hadn't, after Fifty Shades had invaded the homes of housewives everywhere? Now everyone harbored a secret fantasy and hid a pair of handcuffs in their closet.

  "That's not what I'm saying," Brandon replied in that sexy, serious voice of his when I voiced my thoughts. "What I'm suggesting is an arrangement more to our needs."

  "How romantic," I said dryly, batting my eyelashes at him. I yelped when he reached around and pinched my swollen cheek.

  "Do you even know how to stop being sassy?"

  "No, it's set on auto," I replied with a teasing smile.

  "So I see."

  "What do you mean? More to our needs?"

  "Ah, well..." Even he looked a bit bashful now. It didn't look good on me, but on him it was downright adorable. I couldn't help but smile at him. "I guess I shouldn't beat around the bush, and anyway, you probably already guessed. I like to spank women."

  "What?" I gasped in mock outrage, leaping off his lap. I must have caught him by surprise, because he let me go. "You mean you did that for fun, not for the betterment of human- kind?"

  Brandon grinned at me. "Oh, I'm sure it will be that, believe me. If you're anything with your employees like you were with me today..." I carefully avoided his eyes at that remark. "But make no mistake, Karen. I don't pick up women off the street t
o live out my fantasies. You needed to be spanked, that wasn't for fun."

  I almost choked on my tongue. The idea that that could ever be fun was a little daunting. Okay, more than a little. "So you're saying–"

  "Wait a minute." He held up a hand to stop me. "Let me get my thoughts out, please. Under normal circumstances, I would have punished you as I'd promised and sent you home." There was nothing normal about such circumstances, but I was learning that Brandon didn't like to be interrupted so I held my tongue. His next words made me glad I did. "But I can't deny that I'm attracted to you and so I'm hoping we can see each other."

  "But to see each other means we have to, ah..."

  "No. Not if you don't want to."

  I had to admit I was impressed by his answer. Most people—myself included—laid something on the table like this and it was a done deal: take it or leave it. But not Brandon. "So you just… for fun?"

  "Not exactly." He cocked his head, studying me. "Will you come sit back down?"

  "I don't know if I want to," I replied, with more than a bit of sass, but even as I said it I was moving toward him.

  "You can sit on the couch if you want, but I'd prefer to look into those beautiful eyes while we have this conversation. It's easier for me to tell what you're thinking," he admitted.

  "I think I prefer your lap," I replied coyly, wincing inwardly at the girlish quality of my voice. Where had that come from?

  He pulled me down onto his thighs and looked me right in the eye. "I think BDSM is fun, yes. Kinky and fun, but I'm looking for something else. I want to build a relationship with someone who wants the same things I do."

  I sucked my breath in sharply. This was going in a completely different direction than I'd thought.

  "I'm not asking you to marry me, or anything. If you want to try this, that's great. Hopefully, it will help us both. If not, we can go on normal dates and see how things go from there."

  "So, can I ever change my mind?" I asked, suddenly timid. "What if I say no and I decide later..."

  "We can always talk about it," he reassured me.

  "And if I say yes..." I took another deep breath in a vain attempt to calm my wildly fluttering heart. "What if I agree and it's too much for me?"