by Jane Henry
Yes, sir. Wow, he had given this some thought. She felt her heart pounding as she faced her first punishment, and she also felt little, like a small child who'd been scolded. It was embarrassing. It was also somehow very reassuring.
Go, now.
To her surprise, tears pricked the back of her eyes. She did as she was told, messaged the chat room that she needed to be gone for a while, and shut her browser. She shut her bedroom door, walked over to her bed, and knelt.
At first, she felt silly. Why was she making herself get all uncomfortable like this for some guy she'd never met? It was embarrassing. What would Paolo think?
As she knelt, she went over what Mr. Brookstone had said. He was quite right, that she'd agreed to this, and the time before a punishment was not the time for her to be questioning anything. She smiled to herself, remembering that she'd once asked Little Lady if she ever wished for an end to their agreement. Little Lady had responded, "Every single time I'm punished. But then when it's all over, I remember why we do this."
What would she feel like? As the time ticked on, slower than she'd expected, she closed her eyes. It felt almost like she was meditating. She had nothing to do but kneel there, focusing her efforts on why she'd been punished and what she'd do to prevent it again. What would she do?
As she knelt, a sort of quiet came over her.
What would she feel like when it was all over? Lost in her own thoughts, she jumped when she heard Paolo's wheels just outside their bedroom door. She glanced at her phone. She still had three minutes left. Quickly, just as the door opened, she dived under her bed, sliding her phone underneath.
"Um, Mer? You okay down there?" Paolo asked from the doorway.
"Oh, fine," she said nonchalantly, the sound of her voice under the bed muffled. "I just... dropped my phone, and it went under the bed."
"Ah. Can you reach it?"
Damn it all to hell! She'd pushed it further than she'd intended. Scooting down on her belly, she reached as far as she could go. Her fingers barely grazed the top of her phone. She swore under her breath.
"Need something to help you reach it, baby?" he asked, his voice closer now.
"No, I'm good," she said, as she finally clasped her fingers around her phone and glanced at the time again. Ten seconds left. She raced to shut the volume off, not wanting to have to explain why her alarm was going off. With one second to spare, as her phone buzzed in her hand, she hit the mute button. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Paolo was over by the bedside table, fiddling through a variety of things he kept in a basket. He extracted a pair of ear buds.
"Okay, I'll be out in the den for a bit. Maybe you'd want to come join me for a movie?" he asked.
She nodded. "That would be nice. I just need a few more minutes in here. Is that okay?"
"Sure," he said. "Take your time." And with that, he left.
Scrambling to send a message out, she typed as fast as she could to Mr. Brookstone.
Done, sir.
Good girl, Bonita. And you obeyed my instruction, not getting out of position for the full thirty minutes?
She squeezed her eyes shut, making herself kneel back by the bed. She'd make up the additional three minutes, and he'd never be the wiser. She couldn't possibly tell him why she'd had to get out of position. It had been an emergency, anyway.
Yes, sir. All set.
Very nice. Your disobedience is forgiven now, Bonita. I'm proud of you for fulfilling your punishment. I have no way to ensure your obedience, so this is entirely on your honor. You've done well. Tell me how you felt being punished, and how you feel now.
She felt the warmth of his praise, as she explained everything to him, how at first she'd been embarrassed, then she'd welcomed the quiet. But her conscience pricked her. How she felt now? She felt like shit. Now she'd lied not only to Paolo, but Mr. Brookstone as well.
Meredith pushed all thoughts of guilt aside, as Mr. Brookstone continued.
Very nice, Bonita. It pleases me to hear this. You know I require your obedience because it's for your own good, don't you? I did not enjoy having to punish you.
Yes, sir.
And I won't have to punish you again?
No, sir.
Very good. A dom's job is to make sure he leads well. In the future, if you have an excuse for not doing as I ask you, I need a plausible explanation. Mean what you say, Bonita. If you tell me you'll do something, I want every effort from you.
Yes, sir.
She felt guilty. She had never before lied, not ever. But she had no idea how she would make things right, not now.
Good. Now let's discuss the next set of rules I'd like to propose. I want your full transparency. Tell me how you feel about each rule.
Her brows furrowed. Each rule? How many did he expect to enforce?
Okay.
Excuse me?
Hands shaking, she quickly remedied her error.
Yes, sir.
Do I need to have you kneel again?
Her cheeks flushed pink. Oh, no, sir. I was just lost in my thoughts and forgot my place.
It's unfortunate we have this distance between us. I feel firmly as if a good session over my lap would help you remember your place.
Her heart pounded. It would, no doubt. God, she wished she could feel what it would be like to be really spanked.
I'll devise another way to teach you to learn to be submissive. For our next rule, I'd like to ask you to watch carefully how you speak. Some may find curse words from a woman appropriate, but I do not. I would prefer you avoid all cursing from here on out.
She frowned, thinking back to the times in chat she'd sworn. Hell, she'd sworn just a minute ago.
All right. Yes, sir, I can do that.
Excellent. I have some other things I'd like to suggest, but that's it for our rules tonight, Bonita. I don't want to push it too hard. You've had a trying night.
He was so good to her. So gentle, but stern. She felt herself drawn to his tender way of addressing her.
He sent another message.
Tomorrow, I'd like to meet later than usual, as I want to watch the governor's state-of-the-union address.
She stared at the screen. Their governor was giving the Rhode Island address the next night. She thought he was from New York, though he hadn't given his precise location.
State of the union? I thought only the Rhode Island governor was giving that tomorrow. Is another one being given as well?
Yes, Bonita. But I'm in Rhode Island.
She froze. He was in Rhode Island, too?
Excuse me, Mr. Brookstone, but I thought you said you were from New York?
No, Bonita. I think you may have come in that conversation late. I said I had family in New York, and traveled there a lot. I did not say I was from New York.
She wondered briefly in which part of New York his family resided, as she and Paolo had traveled there as well. But what she really needed to know was what part of Rhode Island he lived in. As the smallest state in the country, it didn't really matter. The furthest distance from one corner of the state to the next could be traveled in under an hour, with the furthest distance being forty-eight miles north to south. He was within driving distance no matter where he lived.
Mr. Brookstone. I have something to tell you.
What is it, Bonita?
I'm in Rhode Island, too.
That makes me smile, Bonita. I suspected as much, from things you've said about where you live, but didn't want to pry. This is very encouraging to me. I would love to arrange a meeting for the two of us at some point. Perhaps at the end of our agreement we can meet in person, and discuss how we'll proceed?
She swallowed. Oh gosh, how nice it would be to meet him. But how could she ever hide the fact that she was married?
Perhaps. Yes, I think I would like that.
But she knew in her heart that it would be more than perhaps.
She'd do whatever the hell she had to, to meet him in person.
***
Every day that passed left her more and more eager to talk to Mr. Brookstone. She wondered what he really did look like in person. And what was his real name? Was it totally idiotic to make a plan to go visit someone she'd met online, a man who she had never even spoken to on the phone? She wanted so desperately to meet him, though. Every day, he checked in on her, concerned with her taking care of herself and getting to bed on time. At work, she'd message him and tell her she was there. He'd remind her to drive safely, and to make sure she brought her lunch, or purchased it at the cafeteria. 'Yes, sir' became a phrase that came naturally to her, as she became more accustomed to obeying him. She warmed under his praise, and after ten days of submitting to him, she felt more certain than ever that her role was that of submissive.
But submissive to whom?
It had only been ten days?
The chasm between her and Paolo seemed to grow wider and wider, as she confided more and more to Mr. Brookstone. She resented Paolo's distance more than ever. And as time went on, she became more uncomfortable than ever with the fact that she was emotionally surrendering herself to a man who was not her husband.
She couldn't deny that Mr. Brookstone brought out a side of her she never knew existed. She couldn't deny how it made her feel, his being concerned with her wellbeing. Her days and nights focused on when she'd hear from him next. When she went to work, she fastened her seatbelt, obeyed the traffic laws, and told him when she got there. She never went out alone at night anymore. He wouldn't allow it.
Meredith became eager to please him. She loved hearing his praise, and the restrictions he had for her were never for his own benefit, but for her own wellbeing.
"Well done, Bonita," he'd say, and she'd now become jaded to the guilt hearing Paolo's pet name for her had initially made her feel.
Some day she would tell all. This was just an experiment. Just a two-week taste of what it was like to be a submissive. She hadn't done anything wrong, she'd told herself. She never pledged more than temporary obedience to Mr. Brookstone.
At night, though, when she was alone, and lonely, her fantasies began to intensify. No longer did she meet with a forbidden dark-eyed lover. Now she had a name for the face of the man she'd agreed to obey. Her fantasies always began with an infraction. Though in reality, she disliked disobeying him, and had only earned the one punishment, in her fantasies, she'd always earned far more.
She longed to feel what it would be like to be put in her place, physically, with the loss of control that only came with being thoroughly dominated. Would she be someone with a low, or high, pain tolerance? Would she like to be over his knee, or over the bed? Would she want to hear a lecture, and be scolded for having done wrong? What it would feel like to be stood in the corner, and then soundly strapped? Would she want to crawl into the forgiving arms of her dark-eyed lover after she'd been punished?
Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes. It became all-consuming to her.
She kept all of this from her friends on the forum. Little Lady wouldn't understand, she told herself. She had a Dom of her own.
Paolo, however, had grown even more distant. It seemed to Meredith that they were right back to where they were before, at the lowest point of their marriage after his accident. She wondered why things had begun to be difficult with him again. He hadn't initiated sex since the night he'd taken her in silence. Although they now occasionally ate meals with one another, they never discussed more than mere formalities. He seemed angry, and quiet, so it was easy for her to put the reason for their distance on his shoulders.
Why was she so distant from her husband? Was it because she couldn't help but compare Paolo to Mr. Brookstone?
Did Paolo care if she ate her meals? Sure, Paolo did chide her to eat, but she wasn't required to tell him every time.
Did Paolo care if she swore, or if she disobeyed him? What would he ever say if she'd even brought those questions up? Would he cringe at the word 'disobey'?
On the twelfth day of her agreement with Mr. Brookstone, Meredith came home to find the house deserted again, and another note on the counter from Paolo, who'd gone out for beer with Robbie. She frowned. Why did he think it was okay just to take off and not tell her beforehand? What if she'd brought dinner home? Irritated, she picked up her phone and texted him.
Why aren't you here? I thought you'd be home tonight.
No response.
An hour later, she tried again.
When are you coming home?
Again, nothing. Finally, she stomped off to her bedroom and sent Mr. Brookstone a quick message.
Hey... about that meeting. I'm thinking it might be a good idea after all.
The response came back after several minutes.
Perfect. We'll meet in a public place, to make sure you feel safe. Nothing private. We should take all precautions. There's a little coffee shop in Warwick, right on the water, where we can meet. I'll tell you this. My name is Rick, though I think it's best you still refer to me as Mr. Brookstone. I'm 6'1, medium build. I have dark hair and eyes, a short beard, and I'll be wearing a blue t-shirt. I'd like you to wear pink, please.
Her heart thumped. She could already picture him, and it excited her to think that she would soon meet him. What would she do when she met him? Hug him? Would that be okay? She pushed her fluttering nerves down as she responded.
Yes, sir. My name is Meredith. I'm on the short side, near five feet, and I have shoulder-length, curly, silver-blonde hair. I have blue eyes. And I will be happy to wear pink.
I can't wait, Meredith. Oh, and one more thing.
Yes, sir?
Be on time, Meredith.
She smiled.
Absolutely, sir.
***
Meredith didn't sleep the night before she was slated to meet Mr. Brookstone. She'd fabricated an excuse for Paolo the night before, mentioning casually in passing that she had some shopping to do the next day and that she'd be out for a while. He'd shrugged, grunted, and she figured she was good to go. She wouldn't allow herself to question what had been plaguing her since she agreed to meet him.
What would happen after her meeting with Mr. Brookstone?
As she stood in the kitchen with no appetite, she glanced at the clock. She had to meet him in an hour. It would be foolish for her to skip a meal on the very day she'd meet her Dom in person. What would he do? With a quick thumping of her heart, she remembered a story Little Lady had told her, when she and Master Winston were new to this, she'd talked back to him in public. He'd excused them, marched them to their car, and hauled her over his lap in the back seat. They laughed about it now, but Meredith shivered.
What would Mr. Brookstone do if she disobeyed him, and he was right there? Would he do the same as Master Winston? He took his leadership role very seriously. As she forced herself to pour a cup of coffee, with trembling hands, she wondered.
Where would this leave them? Their arrangement was up. Would she be able to continue to submit to him? How long could the charade last?
The charade? Where had that thought come from? This was real, a mere utilitarian arrangement that would suit them both. They'd crossed no boundaries. Initially, their agreement was for the sole purpose of her exploring whether or not she was submissive.
Was she a submissive?
She had her answer.
So why was she so eager to meet him?
In her mind's eye, she imagined Tanner. The talk, dark, brooding Dom of her dreams. What would it be like to look deep into those eyes? Those eyes that could pierce her to her very soul? What would it be like to know he was capable of being stern, but so very loving? How would she feel with the rumble of his voice over her? Would she melt, utterly determined to obey him? She had to know.
What it would be like to look into the eyes of the man she'd pledged her obedience to?
With a quick glance to the clock, she decided to leave. She was a good hour early, but she couldn't stand the pressure any longer. And she didn't want to do
a thing to risk being late.
"I'm heading out, honey!" she called.
"Bye, Mer. Be careful, baby," Paolo called out. She felt the vaguest prick of her conscience as the door slammed behind her.
***
La Patisserie she read on the sign above the door. She'd heard of this place, though she'd never been. She was grateful Mr. Brookstone had suggested a place a good distance from her house, as the chances of her running into somebody she knew were much slimmer. She'd freaking pored over the website for hours, as she planned her meeting with Mr. Brookstone. The coffee shop was small, but in the center of a teeming collection of little shops. If anything went wrong, she'd be easily able to make a quick escape. She had her phone charged and ready.
The bagel she'd choked down rumbled in her stomach as her phone buzzed.
Looking forward to seeing you, Meredith.
She swallowed. Me, too, sir.
You've eaten breakfast?
Yes, sir.
Good girl. Maybe you'll still have room for a little pastry?
She smiled. That would be nice, sir.
Though she knew his name was Rick, she was still not permitted to call him by his first name. She wondered if that would change after today, when their agreement was up. She'd found a parking space right outside the shop, again in case of having to make a quick getaway. But a little voice in her mind said, "You don't have to worry. Everything will be just fine."
She paced as casually as she could outside the shop, back and forth, as the minutes ticked by on her phone. Four minutes. Three minutes. Two. She hadn't seen anyone go in, no one tall, dark, and handsome anyway. Then an awful thought flitted across her mind.
What if he never showed? Holy shit. What if never came? What if this had all been a facade, two weeks of her life dedicated to obeying someone who stood her up? What if she found him unattractive?
