She rose, but the cramping prevented her from standing up straight. Kneeling on the cold, white tile, she rested her forehead on the floor. She visualized the water working its way through her lower belly, taking a morbid satisfaction in the discomfort, the pain, the uncomfortableness. Waves of nausea rolled over her, cold sweat breaking out on her skin. The urgency to void increased, causing her to groan uncontrollably. She fought that need though, taking in deep breaths and exhaling loudly through her mouth. When she reached the point where she feared she might have an accident, she crawled over to the toilet, squeezing her sphincter tightly, her thighs and bottom clenched in the hope that keeping those muscles taut would assist in staving off the inevitable just a little bit longer.
She quickly sat, not having to do anything more than relax and let her body finally expel. Her body cycled through this process several times before she felt assured that it was indeed over.
I need to get myself cleaned up and dressed before Maxim comes through that door.
She didn’t take the time to replace her panties and pants though, instead utilizing the nausea that still racked her body, bending over the toilet and sticking her finger down her throat. She never got used to this. She could use laxatives, diet pills and go for hours and hours without eating, but to stick her finger down her throat to throw up, just never came easy to her. But desperate times, called for desperate measures. She closed her eyes, pushing deep, her eyes tearing up, her gag reflex overcoming her, her stomach clenching. A couple more thrusts and she’d be right there.
There it is…
She wiped her mouth with some toilet paper after she vomited, blowing her nose and dabbing the tears from her face. One more time would do it. She pulled in a shaky breath, bending over again, momentarily noting that she still hadn’t put pants back on. She’d be done soon enough. She stuck her still wet finger down her throat, the gag coming easier this time now that her stomach was sensitized, the dry heave loudly startling her, her eyes rolling painfully. The next gag worked though, and she groaned with her violent retching. When it subsided, she panted over the toilet, unable to catch her breath. She stayed bent over with her hands on her knees, her eyes closed tightly.
Fire burst across on her backside, Maxim’s angry voice booming behind her. “What are you doing? You are making yourself sick! You put a finger down your throat? For what reason?”
He swatted her bottom with that large, thick hand, his palm as hard as any paddle. He brought it down over and over, left, right, center, repeating until she’d been reduced to screeching, dancing up on her toes in agony.
It was at that moment that it hit her. She didn’t seem like the CEO of her own company, all forms of professionalism were absent. She was bent over, naked from the waist down, drooling into the toilet, crying, getting her ass paddled by the biggest Russian man she’d ever seen. She didn’t look like the executive she’d been today, standing in her fancy black suit and power red blouse. Not one bit. Right now, she sobbed pitifully, her scorched red backside turned up and vulnerable, at the mercy of the whip master.
What the hell ever made me think that his hard hand blistering the shit out Viktoria was hot?
“I just can’t believe you did this, that you would make yourself sick. And for what, Caroleena?
“Maxim, I can—”
“Sir!”
She swallowed. “Sir, I can explain.”
“Not now. Later, you will.” He tucked her against his hip and landed hard, crisp slaps to her already sore bare bottom. “Now, I spank and talk. You listen.”
She’d been able to give not one but several great speeches today. Directives were given, plans laid out, her delivery articulate and intelligent. Now, she couldn’t even form the words “ow” or “please, stop.” Instead, she groaned, whined, and squealed, steadily keening throughout the paddling.
“You were to tell me if you were struggling. You were told that I would blister your ass if you did this. And. You. Did. It. Anyway!”
“Yes!” she cried out. Hysteria overtook her then, and she screamed over and over. “Yes, yes, yes! Oh, God! Yes, yes, yes!”
At some point, the stinging smacks ceased, though she barely noticed. She continued to moan the words over and over, a pained mantra. He stood her up, staring at her, trying to catch his breath. That fact gave her a modicum of comfort, considering the throbbing agony consuming her ass at the moment. She gulped air between her sobs, and cupped her hot, welted bottom in both hands. He closed the cover to the toilet, flushing it, then sat down, watching her, his jaw clenched. Her breath caught in her throat when his hand began to rifle through the trash next to the toilet, pulling out first the box that held the enema, then the empty, squished bottle.
He spoke through gritted teeth. “I guess I have no need to ask what else happened in this little room this afternoon, do I?”
She shook her head, her heart racing.
“You will answer when I ask you a question.” He threw the containers back into the trash.
“No, Sir, you don’t need to ask.” She felt so naked, standing in just her little pink t-shirt that didn’t even cover her hips. She couldn’t take her hands off her bottom though — it simply hurt too badly. She had a dreadful inkling that this wasn’t the end of her discipline either.
He crooked a finger at her, patting his thigh. “Come here, little girl. We have many things to discuss.”
“I don’t want to.” It sounded even more ridiculous to her ears than it probably did to his, but she couldn’t help it. She knew what awaited her once she reached his large, muscular thighs. She’d be spanked again.
“Oh, really? You think you want me coming to get you? Does that sound like better option to you, Caroleena Leigh?” His eyebrows raised, his forehead crinkled in surprise.
No. That sounds exceptionally awful, as a matter of fact. You need to move, and fast.
She shuffled over, stretching the front of her shirt in despair, dragging down on the hem in an attempt to cover her pussy. Once she was within reach, he snatched her wrist, tipping her over his left thigh so roughly that she let out a surprised groan. She heard drawers being opened on the vanity, but the toilet paper roll above her head prevented her from looking over her shoulder. When something very cold and hard tapped on her bottom, she clenched, even though she knew it would offer her no protection from what was about to happen.
Hairbrush.
She hadn’t been spanked with a hairbrush in years, but one never forgot the thuddy pain associated with the unforgiving hard wood.
“You, never, ever abuse your body by vomiting and using enemas.” That was the warning that her punishment had begun. Since her ass had been on a simmer before he’d even landed the first one, it only took two swats before her flesh was boiling once more. Her immediate reaction was to cover her bottom at all costs, but he grabbed her hands easily, throwing a leg over her calves, thwarting any attempt at protection.
“Jesus! Maxim!” It was all she could formulate, the intense pain reducing her speech to a garbled, nonsensical mish-mash of syllables and partial words. Thankfully, the fast flurry of raining swats ended quickly, but she had no doubt that she’d be feeling the paddling for days.
She collapsed over his lap, the brush tossed into the drawer. His hand squeezed and plumped her backside, a gesture that aggravated more than comforted.
“Oh! It hurts, Maxim!”
“As it should. Bad girl. You have broken too many rules today. Too many. Now, is time for truth. Tell me what else you have done. No lies, yes?” He patted her bottom gently.
“Yes, Sir, no lies. May I sit up p-please?” She tried to hoist herself off his hard thigh.
“Nyet! You stay in this position. You will tell the truth with your zadnista in the air. Talk.” He pinched her left buttock so hard that tears welled in her eyes again.
“Ouch!” She wiggled over his thigh, trying to shake out the sting. “I’ve been... I took.” She sighed. This wouldn’t be an easy admission
. He’d more than likely be even more upset, but she knew that if she lied it wouldn’t go well for her at all. “I’ve been taking laxatives and diet pills.” She dropped her head, waiting for the hammer to drop — or his hard-as-wood palm.
“How long you been taking these?” He didn’t sound angry, just quiet. Was it disappointment she heard in his voice?
“About a week. Maybe ten days at the most.”
It was at that point that he tugged on her arm, helping her up to sit on his lap. “This is all because of getting weighed and measured, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. Really I am. I just—”
“I know. The dieting, brought it back.” She nodded, feeling herself brighten a little. He did understand.
“But you broke a promise. You said you would tell me if it triggered anything. You told me you would let me know if you were struggling. You didn’t do any of those, Caro. Why?”
She would have rather endured his anger than this. It made her realize that she’d broken a trust with him. She’d been so consumed with her own thoughts, feelings, and personal goals that she hadn’t take into account the possibility that her actions would feel like a betrayal to him.
“I didn’t want you to get mad.” She looked into those beautiful eyes that she’d come to love as much as the person holding her. But her guilt made her look away. “I wanted to lose the weight fast, so I could prove to myself, and you — anyone — that I could do it.”
Maxim lifted her chin with a forefinger. “You would have lost with my plan. You wanted to do it your way at the cost of your body and emotions. It was selfish.”
“I know, but I wanted—”
“It’s not about what you wanted. It’s about what is healthy, what is right, and what you needed to do for yourself. No excuses. You started this, don’t go back on it now. We have a saying in Russia: ‘If you called yourself a basket — get ready to take in the milk-mushrooms.’”
He stared at her, as if somehow the crazy phrase would make sense to her. She didn’t even know how to respond to it.
Yes? Oh, thank you, now I understand.
Is that what he wanted her to say? Instead, she simply shrugged at him.
He sighed. “It means as you Americans say, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’. You know, if you are going to start something, take it to the end — whatever that end may be. Well, you wanted to be a basket, and now these are your mushrooms, girl.”
If she hadn’t been so concerned for the welfare of her ass at that moment, she probably would have started to laugh. It just seemed so ridiculous to be talking about baskets and mushrooms, but his point had been made nonetheless.
No excuses. She’d chosen this.
He slapped her bottom, and she yelped. He probably thought that he’d done it lightly, but he hadn’t taken into account the strength of his hand, nor the amount of throbbing pain she still suffered in her backside.
“Up. We continue now.”
“C-continue? What do you mean continue?” His hand tightly grasped her elbow, lugging her along with him as if she were a misbehaving child at the grocery store.
“We continue with your punishment. It is serious what has happened today. You won’t have any doubt by bedtime, yes?”
She would have responded, but instead she found herself walking into her kitchen with only her short pink top on, the rest of her body starkly and embarrassingly naked. Her formidable security guard stood with his hands on his hips, not looking happy with either of them. His lips thinned, the familiar vertical crease deepening between his eyebrows. She’d once heard someone refer to that line as the “What the fuck line.” He appeared to be somebody who thought that often, given the fact that it seemed to be permanently etched onto his chiseled face.
“What in the name of hell is going on around here? I hear what sounds like Caroline getting sick, and by the time I come out to see if she’s okay, I hear you paddling the shit out of her — not once but twice. I need someone to speak up before I lose my shit right here, right now in the middle of this kitchen.”
Before she could speak a word, Maxim walked up to him, dragging her reluctantly with him. She tried dragging her pink top down to cover herself, to the point that her left boob almost fell out of the neckline when she pulled the shirt down too far.
Maxim slapped her hand. “Stop doing that to your shirt. Jason has seen pussy before. Yours is no different.”
That made the dimple in Jason’s cheek show as he fought smiling at her dilemma. But the scowl returned when he looked back at Maxim.
The Russian cleared his throat, forcing her to stand in front of Jason. “Miss Caroleena decided that she wanted to lose weight her own way, even though she pays me to help her do this. She has been taking pills — many pills — for weeks now—”
“I didn’t do it for weeks! I did it for a week... well, maybe ten days.” They both looked at her as if she’d sprouted three heads.
“Silence,” Jason barked. “You will not speak until given permission.”
She stiffened. Her bodyguard had never spoken to her that harshly, and at that moment, she didn’t see a reason to correct him either. She had enough issues, without that hulking beast of a man deciding to actively participate in whatever the rest of their evening still held in store.
“As I was saying.” Maxim glared at her, as if to say: ‘don’t utter a word.’ “Caroleena has been taking pills — laxatives and diet pills. And today she made herself vomit. I watched her do it. She also gave herself an enema before I came home.”
She groaned.
God, it’s bad enough I did these things. But now he tells Jason about the enema — and I’m standing here with no pants or panties on either.
“Stop!” Jason growled, his nostrils flaring. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him this angry. “You deserve everything that Maxim has given you, and standing here humiliated wearing a t-shirt and a blistered bottom is exactly what you needed for this behavior.”
“And she’s not done yet either. She has a whipping yet to endure. Caroleena won’t do this again, Jason.” Maxim crossed his muscled arms over his chest addressing Caroline. “You go to the exercise room, and take the rest of your clothes off.”
“You want me to take them off here?” She couldn’t even swallow, her throat dry with fear. He wouldn’t make her undress completely in front of Jason. Would he?
Maxim looked over to Jason. “What do you think, Jason? Think I should make her stand here naked in front of both of us?”
Jason made an elaborate show of thinking, tapping his cheek with a finger. “Well, humiliation does work well, and you could make her stand naked right here in the kitchen.” He pointed to a corner. “That’s a good spot for a naked girl to stand. But her bottom needs to be freshly spanked. Is your backside red? Turn around and let me see.”
His words left her speechless, her mouth dropping open.
“Your response is to be ‘yes, sir.’ Do you need one of us to help you comply?” His eyebrow rose once more, warning her that she needed to respond. Quickly.
“No, no. I’m turning.” She quickly pirouetted, hoped her alacrity would mollify the big man.
“Caroline.” Jason dragged her name out slowly. “I would have let you just pivot, but now for that little show of defiance you will stand with your cute little ass facing me. That is, if Maxim approves.” He shifted his gaze to Maxim.
Caroline had hoped that Maxim would relent and just let her go to the exercise room. “I think you’re being generous for that stunt. Do as you’re told, Lena.”
“Yes, Sir.” She turned slowly, making sure to stop with her still sore backside facing Jason. She didn’t know how she’d look him in the eyes again without blushing.
Jason whistled. “Shit! That is one sore ass, girlie. You may need to take the day off tomorrow for recuperation.” He then directed his next comments to Maxim. “How’d you get that shine and lovely shade of red with slight hues of purple, Mr. Volkov?
”
“Thank you for noticing. I used my hand and a beautiful mahogany hairbrush that was three inches wide — no more, no less.”
“Well, I have to say it’s a work of art. And I’m sure it’ll be very effective.” He addressed Caroline once more. “You may turn back around, Caroline. Normally, I would feel sympathetic toward you, but this is a serious offense, girl. You cannot take endanger your health like that. Putting yourself at risk is a definite no-no.”
“She will regret this before the night is over, if she isn’t already. Go to the weight room and find a corner to stand in.” A sharp edge had slipped back into his voice.
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, quickly fleeing the room.
Chapter Seventeen
Derek and Mark each sat with a tumbler of whiskey in their hands waiting for Derek’s attorney Tom to call. It didn’t matter that it was only two o’clock in the afternoon. Apparently, Caroline’s attorneys had contacted The Gazette requesting proof and physical documentation for their claims. That was when the scheme had fallen apart.
The Gazette had told them they’d received a confidential phone call informing them that Caroline Turner had an illegal immigrant residing in her house as a fitness chef. They produced the phone conversations with not one employee at the Immigration Office, but two, both stating that they had no legal documentation for a Maxim Volkov. They listed the date and time of these conversations.
End of story. Or was it?
Derek took another phone call from his attorneys.
“Derek, this is Tom Burns.”
My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3) Page 16
