by Measha Stone
“You can’t—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he reached over and snatched it from her hands, pocketing it in his jeans. “Doubled. Now. Get back up here and sit nice for the rest of the ride.”
She licked her lips, and her eyes darted to the door.
“You’re going to run down 90? To where? We’re already out of the city, almost at the border.” He watched indecision rule her expression, her hands rubbing against her skirt.
“You’re doing it. You’re just taking over when I said I didn’t—”
“This isn’t about finding your mom. This is about keeping you safe. This is about you acting before you think. Get back up here right now, kitten.”
Her eyes widened when he used her pet name. Maybe it was the way he lowered his voice, or how he drew out the word that made her pause. It obviously didn’t make a big enough impact though since she stayed frozen in the back seat.
“Okay, then.” He turned back around and re-buckled himself in. He pulled back into traffic and made his way to the cabin. She had one hell of a lesson coming to her when they got there. He almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Chapter Eight
Julie watched the cars on the road swap out for trees as John drove them through a small town and into a wooded area. She probably should have been afraid he lost his mind. Afraid he wasn’t the hot dom, good friend, and dutiful cop she took him for and in fact was a serial rapist and murderer. For all she knew, he could be driving her to an abandoned cabin where he’d chop her into small pieces and leave her remains scattered all through the Midwest.
Except she wasn’t. Not even a little bit. Other than having some apprehension about his whole punishment threat, she only wondered where he was taking her, and when she’d be able to get home. She recognized he could have easily turned her over to his boss when he called. The straitlaced man she had met at the club should have. It was his job, after all; get a statement from a witness, or to bring in the witness when he promised to. But he didn’t.
He shielded her from his boss. He had protected her against whoever had broken into her apartment, and now he took her out of the state to keep her safe. She noticed when they crossed the state line into Indiana but didn’t comment on it. The tension in John’s shoulders while he drove gave her a good idea his anger with her hadn’t dissipated.
When would she start thinking before acting? Stop yelling before considering the situation?
They turned off the empty road, down a gravel road. More trees and fewer houses passed as he continued the drive. Isolated. She swallowed back her demand to know where he was taking her, because obviously he was taking her to a cabin in the damn woods.
Another road, narrower and denser with trees, and five more minutes ticked by before she could make out a small building. A log cabin came into full view when he parked the car near the front door. Through the screens of the patio, she made out two chairs and a stool.
“Let’s go,” John said after cutting off the engine.
He opened her door and offered his hand to help her out. Not wanting to give him any more cause to be mad at her, she accepted it and thanked him. If his narrowed eyes could be any indication, he wasn’t impressed.
She followed him up the steps and waited for him to gesture she could enter the cabin before doing so, still keeping a watchful eye on him but a respectable silence.
He shut the front door and flipped on the lights in the main room of the cabin. Her eyes grew wide with what was laid out before her. A St. Andrew’s cross stood proudly in the corner of the room, beside a large screen television. Kneelers were stacked neatly beside it. On the walls several thick black wrought-iron rings with shackles attached to them hung at various heights.
“What the hell is this place?” She spun around to face him.
He grinned. “My play house. Well, not mine entirely. Brian and I own it together. He and his wife, Katrina, use it two weekends a month and I have the other two.”
He explained the setup so casually she would have thought he was talking about sharing custody of a child. “And if there’s a fifth weekend?” Julie asked, still not walking further into the cabin.
“We figure it out. We’ve had parties up here, lent it to friends. Brian owns the club. So sometimes he’ll rent it out to members.” John walked over to the fireplace and opened a metal box perched on the mantel. He dropped Julie’s phone into it, locked it, and pocketed the key. Okay, so he wasn’t completely over what all transpired that morning.
Well, neither was she.
“How long do we need to stay here? I mean, I can’t look for my mom from here. I can’t work from here.”
John shook his head and folded his muscular arms over his chest. Surely, he needed to get back so he could spend his five hours a day in the gym. Seriously, how did a man get so damn big while working a full-time job and having a social life?
“Let me show you the rest of the cabin.” He held out his hand like he expected her to grab onto it. Denying him could be taken as a snub, and since he still seemed bent on holding a grudge, she didn’t need to add fuel to the fire.
“John, I know I sometimes fly off the handle a bit. Talk without thinking. I get pissed before I take in the whole situation, I don’t mean to.”
He led her down a short hallway to a small kitchen, then through the kitchen to the second part of the house. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, and another open room. In the last room, she tugged back on his hand. “I said—”
“That’s the second time you’ve apologized for your quick temper and your impulsive behavior.” He held fast to her hand when she tried to pull free. “I said I will help you, and I will help you find your mother. But I can’t do that if I have to keep worrying about what you’re going to do behind my back, or if you’re just going to go off on your own whenever you feel like it. So, here we are.”
She looked around, turning her head this way and that to see every one of the implements hanging in the open cabinets. He let her hand go and walked around the room, closing the doors to the cabinets displaying the various implements.
“These are Brian’s. Kat must have forgotten to close up before they left last time they were here. He’ll punish her for that.”
He didn’t sound the least bit concerned about it either, almost pleased at the notion. As though he found humor in it.
“Taking care of the toys is her job. And it will be yours, too. Brian and I have similar rules; it’s why we are able to share this place so easily.”
She swallowed and brought her brows together. “You’re making some pretty big assumptions,” she managed to say, stepping back and bumping into a metal cage. She spun around to look at it. A large animal crate, but she doubted any animal had ever used it.
“Am I? Well, we’ll see. Now.” He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together as he walked over to the opposite side of the room where two more stand-up cabinets were closed. He opened them and stood back as though admiring his own supply of floggers and paddles. The cabinet had four drawers, and he opened the top one to dig around.
“John, I’m a little tired. Do you think I could lie down for a bit? Then we can go over the papers I had about my mom? They’re mostly arrest records and credit card statements, but maybe you can see something in it that I couldn’t.” She took a step toward the door leading back to the other hallway that would lead her to the bedroom, which hopefully meant safety.
“Do you remember what you said to me at the club? The night we met?” He didn’t move from his position at the cabinets, still looking through the top drawer, but his tone suggested she not leave the room.
“At the club?”
“Yes.” He grabbed something from the drawer, shut it and turned to her, closing the space between them with three long strides. “After you walked away from the punishment scene in the domestic room.”
She remembered. She hadn’t forgotten anything about their playtime together.
“What about it?” She pushed her chin up.
“You said you didn’t like the scene because it was fake.” He moved closer to her, making her crane her neck to keep looking him in the eye. And she wasn’t about to cower away and look anywhere else. He would not intimidate her. Correction. He would not know he intimidated her.
“It was,” she agreed. The woman’s whimpering that night had gotten under Julie’s skin.
“You said if it’s a punishment, it should be a real punishment. Am I remembering correctly?” He raised his right hand, the one holding a strip of black leather. She stood her ground from sheer will.
“Yes. I remember what I said.” She also remembered how intrigued he looked after she had said it.
“Have you ever had a real punishment?” he asked.
Why the hell did his voice have to be soft? So low and gentle?
After a long moment of silence, she shook her head. “No, not really.” If she stepped back he would advance anyway, she reminded herself. She couldn’t allow him to think her a coward. No matter how much the determination in his eyes made her insides shake.
“Not really?” She could do without the humor lacing his words. “Then the answer is no. I’m guessing your little play buddy never sees the need.”
“I already told you, it’s not like that with him.” She couldn’t even imagine Jimmy using the same tone with her. It would be like a little brother trying to reprimand his older sister. Jimmy was good for playtime, not much else.
“And previous boyfriends? Never took the play from the bedroom and turned it into something else outside of it?” John traced her shoulder with the tip of his finger.
“I’m really tired.” The words had sounded forceful in her head, but once they passed her lips they had lost all momentum.
“You’ll have your nap soon enough, kitten.” Again, the name didn’t have the same lightness to it as it did back in Chicago.
“John.”
“I think that’s enough John for today. If you need to address me you’ll do so as Sir. If you can’t speak, you’ll raise your right hand until I acknowledge you.”
“What—that’s—” she sputtered, finally giving in and stepping back. And as she knew he would, he moved with her until he had her pinned against the wall. She could feel the crate with her fingers.
“First your punishment. Then you’ll take your nap, then you’ll have your lesson.” He held up the leather strip. A collar. A black leather collar with a small pendant hanging from the D-ring in the center. She narrowed her eyes, reading the scribbling on the round metal piece.
Kitten
“Where did you get that?” she demanded, a new fire burning under her skin.
“I’ve had this for a while, but never had someone to use it with,” he admitted. “Pick up your hair for me,” he ordered.
“No.” She shook her head, trying to push him away, but getting nowhere. “I won’t do this. This isn’t what I signed up for.”
“Yeah, well, having a bunch of drug dealers and who knows who else chasing me down wasn’t exactly what I was invited to either.” His voice darkened, and she stopped trying to wiggle away. She had dragged him into a pile of shit that he hadn’t asked for.
“John—”
His hand clamped over her mouth, covering both her nose and her lips. No air came through, nothing but the scent of his flesh pressed against her nostrils. Her eyes flew to his.
“No more John, got it, kitten?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m waiting for an answer. You can breathe again once you give it.”
She nodded, jerking her head up and down.
“Good kitten.” He released her.
She gulped in a breath. It had only been a few seconds, but long enough to jumpstart her heartbeat.
“Pull up your hair,” he said again, already pressing the leather collar to her neck. She shifted her body and managed to gather her hair into a ponytail. He didn’t move, he worked his hands behind her neck and secured the collar. Slipping a finger between the leather and her throat, he slid it around her cheek. “Good.” He seemed pleased with the fit.
Well, good for him.
“Now, strip,” he said and moved away from her, his arms folding again across his chest.
“What?”
“Strip. All the way this time. I let you keep your panties on at the club, but this is punishment and we’re alone. Take them all off, fold them nicely, and put them on the chair.” He pointed at the black leather chair a few feet away, accompanied by an ottoman. The entire cabin had a sense of complete normalcy mixed in with the heavy kink decorations.
Her hands were heavy as she slowly began to obey him. Each piece she removed, she took care to fold neatly and put it where he had directed. Once down to her panties and bra, she looked back at him. One raised eyebrow answered her well enough.
Why the hell was she complying? She didn’t have to. She could simply tell him no and demand he take her home, or to the bus station, or something, somewhere, anywhere but there peeling off her lavender cotton panties and bra.
“Now, I’m traditional and prefer to have you over my lap for a bad girl spanking. But you were really bad. Very naughty today, so I need you to crawl over to that horse there and bend over it.” He pointed a long finger at the weathered wood spanking horse. There were no pads for her knees, she’d be standing and bent over in half. She’d be looking through her legs with the positioning he described.
“John—”
“That’s an extra dozen. I’ve told you two times now, no John. Now get on your hands and knees and crawl to the horse. Bend over it and wait for me.”
She looked from the horse to him and back. Running obviously wasn’t an option since he’d catch her in three strides. Disobeying didn’t seem like a solid plan either, seeing as he had an entire arsenal behind him in the cabinet and who knew how many restraints were in those drawers.
Keeping her gaze on him, she sank down to her knees. The soft carpeting of the room did little to squash the discomfort of her movements. Crawling with as much grace as she could muster, between the fear and the adrenaline of what was to come, she made it to the horse and rose to her feet. The piece of equipment did have a leather cushion in the center of it, so she assumed that’s where her stomach should go. With another glance over her shoulder just to be sure he hadn’t changed his mind—the stern set of his jaw and narrowing of his dark eyes suggested he hadn’t—she lowered her torso over the bench until the tips of her fingers brushed the lush carpeting below.
“Good.” His loud voice snapped her attention to him.
She jolted when he touched her back. Slowly, he dragged his fingers down to her ass, much like he had the first time they met. Except this time when he pulled his hand away a hard, burning smack replaced his sensual touch. Much harder than what he’d given her at the club, but she didn’t cry out. She wouldn’t. She would take what he gave her quietly and wouldn’t make a fuss.
With calculated strength and routine, he peppered her ass with smacks. She tried to count them, to keep her mind on something other than the heat he created on her bare ass, but after twenty she’d lost count. Before she realized what she was doing, she began to wiggle her ass. Taking minute steps to the right, she tried to slip outside his range. Which earned her a chuckle.
“Where are you going?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her right back where she had been. She pushed up on her tiptoes to shift her body with her hand on the floor, but in doing so she gave him an entirely new target.
“No! Please!” she pleaded when his hand began to light a fire in her sit spot. “Stop!”
“Stop? Don’t feel much for a warmup?” he asked, pausing in his spanks to rub his hand over her ass. She could only imagine how red and swollen her globes had to be. It seemed as though he’d been spanking her forever.
“Warmup?” She lifted her head and tried to see him over her shoulder.
“Yes, warmup. You didn’t think t
his was the punishment part, did you?” He grinned down at her. Apparently, she was the only one displeased with the current situation. He seemed downright giddy.
“I didn’t—I mean, why—”
He patted her ass softly. “No, that was just the warmup. Just to get you ready for the real spanking. Because you’ve earned one hell of one today. Tell me how. Tell me how you were such a naughty kitten.”
She could have easily answered the question if he hadn’t pushed two fingers into her pussy after he asked it. Her body accepted him as though he belonged completely. She tried to clench her body, to fight him off, but with the way he had her bent over, she couldn’t do much other than accept it. Standing up would only cause more trouble, and she just wanted his disappointment in her to end.
“I asked a question, kitten.” He thrust into her harder, and another finger brushed her clit.
She moaned, arching her spine for him. Maybe he had changed his mind, maybe he wanted to play.
“No, no, none of that.” He removed his touch. “Real punishments don’t have sex, isn’t that what I said?”
How did he expect her to have a civil conversation hanging upside down, with a throbbing ass and a wanting pussy?
“Y-yes, I think that’s what you said.” She nodded.
“And I meant it. You’ll get no satisfaction today, not from me or you. Got me?” He spread her ass cheeks, once again stealing her concentration. “Hmm, I have the perfect thing for here.” He tapped her rosebud. “But after your nap.”
She started to get up at the mention of her nap.
“No, not done yet. Back over.” He gave her a shove between her shoulder blades and she fell forward, getting back into position, more miserable and angry than before. “Now. Tell me what you did wrong.”
This new tone, this firm, no-nonsense domineering tone may make her pussy wet and ready for him, but when coupled with the term punishment, and given her bodily position, it made her heart sink. He wasn’t just annoyed, he was disappointed. She’d done that. She’d taken his good-hearted gesture to help her and fucked it all up.
