Phoebe couldn’t look at him. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl who had been caught telling her dad lies. She shook her dripping head and mumbled, “No. I forgot to bring it with me.” She knew damned well that now was the best time to apologise for her stupidity as profusely and convincingly as she could possibly manage, but the mile-wide stubborn streak in her—combined with the humiliation and rage she already felt—stopped her from doing so.
Tom glared at her a moment or two longer; she could feel his icy eyes boring into her. Then, “Give me directions,” he growled, slamming the car into gear.
“Follow the road for another mile or so, then turn right and right again. My house is at the end of the long drive.” She intended to say nothing more.
They drove in silence; the atmosphere thick with Tom’s blinding fury and her sullen demeanour. Phoebe shivered, trying hard not to let her teeth chatter. She was so cold, even the toasty hot interior failed to reach the numbness in her frozen limbs. A few minutes later they pulled up outside her farmhouse. She exited the car hastily. Tom followed.
“You don’t have to...” she began, but the steely glint in his eyes cut her off. He was accompanying her inside. Maybe he thought she wasn’t capable of drying herself off properly? Her jaw set hard and she shoved the front door wide, leaving him to step in uninvited behind her into the lobby.
“Go and get those wet things off,” he mumbled irritably, “I’ll make you a hot drink. Don’t worry, I’m sure I can locate the kitchen,” he added, heading straight for the kitchen door.
For some reason, his uncanny intuition angered Phoebe further, but she marched upstairs without another word. She stepped into a steaming hot shower and washed away the aches and pains and numbing cold. Wrapping a warm terry cloth robe about her, she glanced in the bathroom mirror. Her painted façade was gone. The mirage of false beauty had washed away. She didn’t care if the thirty-two or three he’d thought she looked earlier had increased to forty-two or three. The spell had well and truly been broken. He probably thought she was a brainless, worthless idiot by now, and this would be the last she ever saw of him. “Stupid bitch!” she hissed at her reflection, “You’ve fucked it up again! And it serves you bloody well right!” She stomped down the stairs wearing an ugly pouting scowl, but she really didn’t care anymore.
A piping hot mug of tea sat on the scrub wood kitchen table. Tom leant against the Aga, muscular arms folded, eyes set as hard as tempered steel. After catching that implacable glare, she looked away and sat at the table without uttering a word.
“You’re just as beautiful without the war paint, you know that?” he murmured softly, sincerely.
Phoebe fought back the urge to burst into tears. How could he say something like that? Now? After all the stupid things she’d done? She responded ungraciously, without looking up from her mug. “Oh yeah, I’d win Miss World hands down right now!” She heard him draw a steady breath.
“Are you warmed up yet?” His voice was flat and emotionless.
“Mm hmm,” Phoebe mumbled. She needed a smoke. She’d quit finally, just after Peter left, but she kept a pack in the dresser for emergencies. This was an emergency. She stood, turning her back to him, opened the drawer and took out the pack and lighter. As she turned, the unlit cigarette in her mouth, she glimpsed a lightening move from his direction and the cigarette flew from her lips.
She looked up, startled, his face aflame with fury. He slapped the lighter from her hand, hard, and bore down on her, his eyes glinting with intense ferocity.
“Don’t even think about smoking, young lady! You’re in enough hot water as it is. Now sit down, we’ve some serious talking to do.” He jerked out the chair and pushed her onto it. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, do you hear?” he growled.
Phoebe nodded dumbly. This talk had dreadful portent. She could barely meet his furious gaze, but knew, instinctively, she better do so no matter how difficult.
“You could have been killed tonight. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?” he said, in that terribly level tone.
Phoebe nodded again, fighting back tears.
“And all because you were too damned lazy and stubborn to have your car dealt with. You then compounded the issue by lying to me about its condition, then lying about your phone. Are we in agreement so far?”
Tears welled in Phoebe’s soft eyes. She swallowed hard and nodded, yet again. Speech was beyond her at this moment.
“Then you took one of the most notorious roads in the county as a short cut, in a dangerously unstable car. You crashed. Then like a fool, walked, wearing practically no clothes in this filthy, freezing weather and didn’t even think to stop at a house and ask for help?”
She didn’t dare interrupt to say the thought had occurred and she’d ignored it. It would only make her crimes sound far, far worse. So she just gulped hard and nodded jerkily.
“So, you accept that you’ve behaved like a silly, prideful, stubborn child?”
She cast down her eyes. This was too much. Like lightening, he lifted her chin to face him and held it, repeating the question.
“Yes,” she squeaked pathetically. The tears began to spill.
He nodded, not a trace of pity softening his hard-set expression. “Then you know what I’m going to do to punish you for your outrageous behaviour, don’t you?”
Phoebe’s heart raced, quickly reaching a throbbing ache in her chest. Yes. She did know what he was going to do. But, although she’d dreamed of this moment ever since she could remember, now that it had finally arrived, she couldn’t handle it. She pulled away from him, shaking her head, frightened tears dripping down cheeks flushed scarlet with embarrassment. “No, Tom, please. You can’t. I can’t. No, I’m not ready for this!”
He chuckled. “Not ready? Baby, you’re about twenty years overdue! And I’m about as ready to deliver as I’ve ever been. Now say it! Get it over with. What am I going to do?”
She shook her head wildly. Her tears turned to sobs. “No! I can’t. I won’t. Please, don’t do this!”
He glowered. “Say the word, Phoebe. The sooner you get it out, the better. Because the longer you make me wait, the harder it’s going to be. And believe me, you’re not going to be sitting comfortably for at least a week as it is!”
His cold, matter of fact tone and the determined set of his jaw, sent waves of utter helplessness crashing through Phoebe’s heart. This was going to happen! Nothing she could say or do would prevent it. She lowered her head and let out a few gasping sobs before summoning every last ounce of courage left in her.
“You’re going to‑ to—” her voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. “Spank me.”
“I didn’t hear you, Phoebe. I’m going to what?”
She gasped again. “Spank me,” she said a little louder, her head hanging low.
“Yes, baby. I am. Very, very long and hard. It’s going to hurt like the devil and you’re going to scream and cry and struggle and beg. But it’ll do you no good whatsoever, because I’m at least twice as strong as you. This is for your own good. You need it. You’ve earned it. And you’re going to learn a big lesson from it.” He pulled out another high-backed kitchen chair and placed it in the middle of the spacious room. He sat and patted his lap. “Now lay across my knee!”
Phoebe snapped up her head and stared at him with a look of utter horror on her tear-stained face. He surely wasn’t serious? He expected her to offer herself, just like that?
“Now, Phoebe.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t make me come and get you, or you’ll really wish you hadn’t!”
She shook her head again. No way was she going to calmly submit to this. If he were going to subject her to a spanking, he’d damn well have to drag her kicking and screaming over his knee.
“What do you think I am?” she shouted, suddenly furious. “Stupid?”
He fair leapt from the chair and grabbed her upper arm, yanking her to her feet. “Yes, Phoebe, that’s
exactly what you are. Exactly how you’ve behaved—stupidly. And now I’m going to add another twenty spanks to your total, for defying me.” He dragged her across to his chair, placed far away from anything that might interfere with his stroke, and dumped her across his lap. She screamed and kicked, but he clamped one leg over hers and jacked her up high over the other, pinning her firmly at the waist with one arm. Phoebe felt her robe whisk over her legs, exposing her raised, bare behind completely. Everything was clearly on display to him. No room for modesty or dignity, with her sex and, for Chrisakes, even her arsehole plain to see. She bellowed furiously at the humiliation the position imposed.
The first slap took her so by surprise she barely whimpered. It was painful. The shock barely had time to register before the next and the next and next came in quick, relentless succession. She screamed out as his huge hand landed squarely across each stinging cheek in turn. Sometimes high, sometimes low, at the crease where buttock met thigh—the sit spot. And once or twice, her inner thigh when she stupidly parted her legs far enough to allow him access. She squirmed and wriggled in a futile attempt to evade the merciless slaps, screaming, wailing, sobbing.
“You are the most infuriating, defiant, spoiled little brat I’ve ever met,” Tom raged, as he rained down the blows on her ever-reddening backside.
Phoebe begged, pleading for him to stop. “Tom, Please! Enough! I’ve had enough. Please!” But he didn’t stop; in fact the spanking seemed to increase harder and faster for her entreaty. Her bottom burned like she’d never even imagined possible. This wasn’t the romantic scene she’d imagined. It was a brutal, unmerciful punishment, and she so wanted it to be over. She reached back and tried to cover her bottom, but he snatched her wrist and pinned it at her waist, slapping her harder than before, if that were possible. His hand kept falling, intensifying the burning into a raging inferno.
A crazy thought crossed Phoebe’s mind as she yelped and wailed under the barrage of smacks, that it might be possible to fry a fucking egg on her arse right now! She’d not even attempted to count the number of spanks he landed on her belaboured backside, a hundred at least, she was sure, but the strength to fight him was waning fast. She was so exhausted and the pain so dreadfully, dreadfully bad, that she could no longer struggle. She simply lay across his rock solid leg, rolling with each blistering slap, sobbing openly. And then he stopped.
He swivelled her round, pushing her roughly to her knees and clamped her between his legs, facing him. “Now, that is what’s called a punishment spanking, Phoebe. And I’m quite certain it won’t be the last you get.”
Phoebe continued to sob uncontrollably as her backside throbbed. She reached a hand round and began to rub, she couldn’t help herself. He grabbed it and barked. “No! You’re going to feel every last moment of this, you little brat, or I’ll begin all over again. Do you understand me?”
Phoebe gulped down a sob and stammered, “Yes, Tom, I understand.” The thought of suffering yet another blistering punishment was too terrifying to contemplate.
His voice softened immediately. She’d taken the first step toward submission. “Good girl. Now you know why I spanked you, don’t you? Because you deserved it. Greatly. And you scared me tonight, more than I ever believed possible.” He lifted her chin and held it so she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “Crazy though it might sound, I’m falling for you, Phoebe. You’re one in a million. And I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.” He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her, wrapping his strong arms around her, kissing her neck and head softly.
The strangest, most exquisite sensation washed over Phoebe, as he held her whispering soft, gentle words, whilst she sobbed into his chest. She was at peace. Cleansed, somehow. Liberated from the lonely chains of control. Weak and vulnerable, yet safe. Completely and utterly safe in this man’s strong arms. So this was how it felt to be truly loved. And, despite the seeming brutality of it, the spanking was absolute confirmation of his feelings. The throbbing in her backside tempered to a warm, delicious glow, as she came to fully understand why she’d dreamed about this for so long. Then, she too, for truly the first time in her life, fell hopelessly in love.
As her sobbing subsided along with the stinging sensation in her bottom, she pulled away to face him. “I’m sorry, Tom. I’m sorry for being so stubborn and stupid. I’ll never do it again.”
He laughed lightly and gently patted her behind. “Oh, yes, you will, Phoebe. Oh, yes, you will. Now go to bed. You’re tired. Our dinner reservation is at eight tomorrow night. I’ll come by and pick you up at seven.” He kissed her forehead and lifted her to her feet as he stood. “Goodnight, my sweet.”
And with that, he left.
Chapter Two
As promised, Tom picked Phoebe up at seven the following evening and took her to The Reserve in Camworthy. He’d booked a private table set in a cosy niche by the window overlooking Camworthy Hollow—one of the most spectacular beauty spots in West Dorset. He’d thought of everything, with Champagne perfectly chilled and waiting at the table, and dew kissed red roses at the centre, softly lit by a solitary candle.
Phoebe had treated herself to a new dress—another figure hugging, yet demure ensemble in sumptuous maroon velvet. It had cost a small fortune, but she figured she deserved to treat herself as she hadn’t bought any frivolous clothes for years. The appreciative gaze Tom had lavished the moment he laid his gorgeous eyes upon her indicated his approval in spades. And for some reason, that meant more to Phoebe than it ever had from other men.
The previous evening’s introduction to their new, very special, relationship hadn’t been mentioned, yet. Phoebe knew it would come up. He enjoyed his work too much to avoid it. And during the long night of dreamy thinking, she knew that she was definitely going to be a work in progress. He was going to mould her, teach her, set the real Phoebe free. She felt like one of the delicate rosebuds in the vase: a pristine flower, its petals just beginning to open up to a brand new world. Eventually, she had fallen asleep with a broad smile on her face and a warm glow in her bottom.
Tom poured her a glass of Champagne and grinned knowingly. “What’s that dreamy look all about?”
Phoebe blushed, laughing nervously. “You know damned well what it’s about!”
He flicked up his dark eyebrows and the grin widened considerably. “Sitting comfortably, or would you like me to ask for an extra cushion?”
Phoebe shook her head at him and continued to laugh. Oh, what a wonderful liberating feeling this was, being able to live her fantasy without shame. “Don’t you dare, or I’ll sulk for the rest of the night,” she said, and pretended to pout.
He winked at her, as he took a sip of his Champagne. “Seriously, though, Phoebe,” he murmured softly, his eyes taking on a gentle, loving glow. “I know I hurt you last night, and I meant to, but I didn’t enjoy it, believe me. How often you get those punishments depends entirely on you. Not that I didn’t just adore the glorious sight of you’re gorgeous bare behind! But, punishment spankings are going to be painful for us both.” His gaze turned decidedly seductive. “There are much nicer ways to indulge our mutual tendencies and, hopefully, I’m going to be introducing you to them very soon.”
A warm, delicious sensation traced its way down Phoebe’s spine as she drank in the sensual smoulder in his cool eyes. She felt her knees turn jelly again at the mere thought of his touch. She wanted to know the pleasure of this man’s body, very, very much. She smiled coyly, colouring from throat to cheek.
“Sir! Have a heart. Spare a girl’s blushes, I beg you. You wicked, wicked man!” she said, feigning a ‘Pride and Prejudice’ style vapour.
Tom roared with laughter. “Gad! But you’re such a delicious vision when you wear that rosy glow!” He lowered his voice and murmured hoarsely, “Especially when you wear it on your other cheeks.”
Phoebe’s pulse raced out of control again, and the evening had barely begun.
“I can see I’m going to have to ease off a tad, my sw
eet. I wouldn’t want that pounding little heart of yours to explode, just yet. Later, maybe, but not yet.”
Phoebe exhaled a tremulous sigh and patted her heart. “I just hope to God it’s tough enough to withstand your merciless assaults!”
They selected from the menu and Phoebe declined the offer of a delectable red from the wine list, seeing as she’d have to consume most of the Champagne alone. Tom took a dim view of drinking and driving—rightly so. As the meal arrived, they chatted away in comfortable, easy tones, as though they’d known each other for years. Phoebe opened up to him about things she’d always kept close and guarded in the past. Things that she’d previously feared would reveal vulnerable chinks in her armour. And he listened attentively, with sincere interest and sensitivity.
This was another totally new experience for her. She’d always been the listener in her relationships. She was the rock, the shoulder to cry on. The one who shared the burden of other people’s fears and insecurities. Until now, there was only one other person she trusted with her fragility—her best and dearest friend, Claire. But Claire lived over two hundred miles away with her lovely new husband in Hertfordshire, and apart from their frequent and lengthy discussions on the phone, they rarely got the chance to see each other. But, despite their almost sisterly closeness, Phoebe had never revealed her secret desires even to Claire. Not because she feared rejection or disgust, in fact she often wondered if Claire harboured similar proclivities; they were so much alike. But, her needs had always shamed her deep down inside, and having never experienced them for real or completely understood them, she knew she would not be able to explain sufficiently to convince either herself, or Claire, that she wasn’t just a complete weirdo. She was going to tell her soon, though. She could hardly wait!
One In A Million Page 3
