by Madison Faye
The wind grew stronger until the trees bent sideways and a streak of lightning shot across the water with a roar, igniting her childhood fear of nature’s fury. But to concede any power to this… this Neanderthal… would clearly earn her three days of hell. “I didn’t agree to any of this shit,” she thundered, drawing herself to her full height of five-feet-five. Her lip glowered in a full pout, and she stomped her foot with defiance before she recognized that she was giving credence to his observation. “And you can’t fucking stop me,” she added with a frown.
He moved quickly for a big man. With a single finger stopping inches from her nose, his tone was controlled and firm. “You agreed to mind me the moment you stowed away on my plane. You’ve come from away to a quiet, restful place to give me nothing but cheek and sass, so do not push me.”
She slapped his hand. “This is fu—”
Preceded by the slightest hint of fire buried in his deep blue eyes, he grabbed her wrist hard enough that his skin felt like it morphed into hers. With a single jerk, he sat on the mattress and wrenched her to his side, her legs kicking vigorously in a futile attempt to fight his strength. With an unreasonable amount of determination, he forced her over his lap and her belly squirmed against his hardened thighs, her waist held in place by a single arm, leaving his free hand to deliver a very personal message.
As promised… or threatened… his palm fired over the thin fabric of her black cocktail dress. First one soft globe, then the other, he circled her ass with a series of stinging spanks in some weird attempt to keep the bites balanced, each smack layering its effect on the previous one to kindle a warm, unwelcome sting across her bottom, each raising her shrieks to a new decibel as she put all of her energy into defeating him with her words. “Fucking stop this, you brute. I’m not going to allow this. I’m going to have you arrested after I break every damn part on your stupid plane.”
The threat to his plane only increased his resolve, but the more she fought, the harder he spanked, her muscles tensing in a simplistic defense. But there was more going on than she could explain. This was so very wrong… so very horrible… yet there was a nagging, primal reaction that started from a place deep inside of her core, and she struggled to find an appropriate description as an unanticipated arousal built between her legs.
After a particularly hard spank at the point where her thighs met her ass, she squealed before corkscrewing her body to slide a little toward his frame. With absolutely no other option to stop him and her bottom on fire, she bit his calf. Hard.
The attack promptly ended, leaving her with a racing heartbeat and irregular, shallow breathing. Her bottom burned all the way through to the inside, but the cessation allowed her to connect to myriad hormones racing along her wet slit. There was something appealing, captivating… needy… about being over his knee without her consent. This guy, Caleb?… Ca?… Caden… had made his threats clear from the moment she’d met him at the ticket counter, and he’d warned her many times to stop being a brat.
She’d clearly pushed him to the brink of his patience, but now that she’d proven the victor, the game was over. Her disappointment ran deep, and she lay on his lap in a twisted version of defeat, her tense muscles relaxing their hold, but his arm was still firmly grasping her middle.
The leather belt came down on her bottom, and her heart missed a beat from the impact. “Fuck this,” she yelled as the eye of their storm passed and the battle continued. “Fucking stop this…”
He didn’t stop. Instead, he slid her wet cocktail dress further up her bottom to reveal her over-sensitized ass. With a simple hook of his finger, her lacy panties were pushed to her knees, tangling her legs until she’d kicked them to the floor in a misguided attempt to regain control. His legs trapped her in a scissors grip, and he got down to the business of spanking her bottom.
Each spank found a new level of pain that exponentially awoke her dulled senses one stroke at a time. By the time he’d added a half-dozen licks from his belt, a million sensations had ignited across her skin to stimulate her gyrating emotions, the full effect easily changing her tone. “Please, I’m sorry. I’ll listen to you… I promise. I won’t swear. I’ll behave. I’m sorry… Please…”
Her bottom was only so big, and the layered discipline had taken its toll. The cabin grew smaller, his presence larger, and the rest of her world blurred into the background until she gave up her last emotional barrier and started to cry. Huge gasps of soggy tears followed as her entire miserable life emptied over his lap, releasing emotions and feelings she’d long since buried. Crystal… her father… the baby… the stupid plane…the remote cabin… her mother’s jet-setting lifestyle that never had a place for her… even the job waiting for her that she clearly wasn’t qualified for… all fed her grief emanating from a single burned ass.
It took a long few seconds before she registered that he’d stopped. Instead of stinging spanks, gentle caresses kneaded her very warm bottom to deliver some strange sense of closure, filling the gap left in the wake of her emotional reset. Gone was the icy tone and harsh demands, his soft, working-class accent strangely comforting and soothing. “Hush, little one. You did a good job. It’s all safe now.” Gathering her in his arms, his comfort never wavered, and he held her against his chest while she continued to cry.
She lost track of how long she stayed buried in his strong arms, but the tears eventually slowed to a small hiccup. Slipping the wet, miserable cocktail dress over her head, he exposed her breasts to the chilly air, but she failed to cover the rigid peak of her nipples or the prickly goosebumps running down her arms before he helped her into an oversized sweatshirt from one of his bags. The shirt was almost as long as the ruined dress, but he helped her with a large pair of sweatpants that slid over her tingly bottom to warm her entire, shuddering body.
“You’re a rawny little thing,” he said softly, pulling the string tightly around her waist and settling her back on his lap. Her sensitive backside wiggled against the softness of her borrowed clothes, but she was surprised that she could sit at all.
“I don’t even know what that means,” she mumbled with her gaze to the floor. “I think I only understand half of what you say.” It wasn’t just the mortification from her childish chastisement that kept her from making eye contact with him. Starting from someplace deep inside of her, an erotic battle had launched, growing with a slow, powerful need until it generated a small wet spot between her thighs.
“There’s nothing to you. But you’ve gots to slow the tears before the cabin floods from the inside, little girl,” he teased, rubbing his finger along her cheek until he reached her chin. When he tapped firmly, she finally looked up at him. “You’ve got a lot of emotions, but you’re safe here. I promise. A good cry works like a reset button for your nerves and now we can start over.”
Everything in her power wanted to pull away from his deep blue eyes and kind smile, but his gentle voice was exactly what she needed. When he wrapped her in a warm blanket, she leaned into his shoulder and added a giant sniffle, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, waiting for him to dictate their next move.
Chapter Four
His little stowaway was a quandary of emotions and temper, but her hot little self was struggling with a lot more than a burned backside. Like any good dom, he’d given her his full attention during her punishment, watching carefully until she’d expressed the sadness and regret that indicated a good redirection, but the overflowing tears had come as a surprise. She’d nestled into his shoulder for a long time before the sobbing ceded to tiny hiccups.
“Now, that won’t do at all,” he said with a smile, settling her on the mattress wrapped in a blanket and snuggled into warm, dry clothes. He handed her a tissue from his supplies and exchanged his own sopping sweater for a dry, long-sleeved, Toronto Blue Jays t-shirt. “Blow your nose while I fire up a scoff. I’m just about gut-founded.”
“I know that those are all English words,” she said, drawing her knees to her chin w
ith a pout. “But I still have no idea what you just said. You really need to work on your vocabulary skills.”
“Yes, b’y. I’ll get us something to eat,” he responded with a loud laugh. “And I’m hungry. I’m Newfoundland-born along with my brothers and father, but I have an American mother. We moved to Toronto when I was about twelve where I confused the hell out of my mates, too. The accent gets worse when I’m here at home, and I’ll admit it’s downright thick when I’ve had a few brews.”
The views out the many windows revealed a wall of green trees shadowed by a foggy layer of misty gray over the harbor. The squall had cleaned the air, leaving big, fat drops of rain clinging to everything, but the heavy drizzle continued. “As soon as the rain lets up, we can radio the hangar to call your family so’s they don’t worry,” he said absently. “My buddy’s a good guy. He’ll make the call, I promise.”
“There… there really isn’t anybody to call,” she responded with a new frown forming across her brow. “I’m not expected back at work for a few days, and my family… well… they wouldn’t notice if I was off the grid for weeks.”
He couldn’t imagine a world where he wasn’t surrounded by family, either by proximity, cell phone, or that magical sixth sense that comes from a close relationship. “Don’t you want me to notify Al, at least?” Confusion was still clearly written on her face. “Al Kim? You were traveling with him, weren’t you? His plane was secured right next to mine, and I just assumed that you got on the wrong one and fell asleep.”
The deep blush accented the ginger tinge to her hair with an adorable sparkle. “I… I… no. I heard some guy say that he was going to New York and… well… I thought I was sneaking on his plane. I guess I just got confused.”
“That’s a careless habit somebody should take you to task for,” he said sternly. “There are a lot of crazy people in this world who would like nothing better than to hurt a little thing like you.”
“Hurt as in beat my ass?” she muttered dryly.
“In my world, a spanking never truly hurt a naughty little girl,” he said with his eyebrow raised. “Hell, I don’t even know your name or where y’ longs to?” She stared at him with another blank look before he continued. “I swear, I’m speaking English, but I’ll try a little harder. It means, where are you from?”
There was some sort of internal debate before she spoke with a touch of an attitude. “I live in New York. I’m Nora Stockholm. Are you enlightened now? And there should be some sort of rule about spanking people if you don’t know their name.”
“A good spanking doesn’t really require a lot of conversation,” he replied with a wink while focusing on their dinner.
Handing her a spoon and a can, he started to eat his own makeshift meal, but she stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Cold canned chili? What kind of hell are you living out here? Are you like the fucking Unabomber or something?”
“Eat,” he demanded. “And mind your mouth. If you’re going to spend a few days in my company, I’m not going to listen to you lower your standards with a limited vocabulary. I’m guessing that you’ve been given a decent education and can express your emotions without cursing.”
The tiniest grin lit up her entire face. “Geez, Daddy. First you paddle me, then you scold me. What’s next?”
Silence followed, the query hanging in the air with all the weight of a 747. She blushed beautifully as the innuendo fed some invisible connection to taunt them both. She stuck her fingernail in her mouth and started to nervously chew on the end. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her paddled bottom wiggling on the mattress to earn her slight wince. “I’m really not a horrible person, and I don’t usually throw myself at guys. I… I think that… I dunno.” She glanced around the small cabin. “Where exactly are we, again?”
“The northern edge of Newfoundland. The land’s been in my family since my ancestors came from Ireland in the early 1800s. My grandfather built the cabin, but my dad remembers every nail he put in the place, and we’ve all given a little of our hearts every time we come. The rain should clear by morning so you can see the sunrise over the water. Right now, it’s so mauzy that you can’t see more than a mile.”
“Irish? I thought everybody in Newfoundland was French, but I guess your accent sounds Irish.”
“First, stop sounding like a tourist. It’s pronounced Newfound-land… just remember to rhyme it with hand. And second, never insult an Irishman by calling them French. The French explorers came here hundreds of years ago, but we were a British dominion, then our own isolated country until after World War II when we joined with Canada. Even after generations, my grandparents were the first in their family who couldn’t speak more than a word or two of Gaelic.”
“It must be kind of nice to connect to your culture like that,” she said with real sincerity. “I couldn’t tell you exactly who my grandparents’ parents were, but I know they lived in Philadelphia. I also know that I had some ancestor who came over on the Mayflower. The guy fell off the boat, but they did rescue him, so I guess we still get the first-place award.”
He laughed loudly. “The Vikings came to L’Anse aux Meadows long before your pilgrims, but they didn’t stick so you’ve gots that one. And I guess falling off the Mayflower even beats my great-grandfather’s tales on getting struck by lightning on his fishing boat, twice. He lived to tell the stories, but his toes always curled slightly upward whenever a storm brewed from the west.”
Staring at him quizzically, her nose crunched into a tiny nub as though she were evaluating his sincerity before she grinned. She really was adorable, her long brown hair curled gently around her shoulders, and she had a pair of doe-like eyes that remained gentle once she’d lost her temper.
She finished her meal without any more complaints and padded in her bare feet to the screened porch. Leaning lazily against the railing, she watched the rain while he unpacked his boxes and made the bed. He gathered some dry wood from the hearth and started a fire in the stone fireplace, its red, hot tentacles licking and twirling through the small space to bring a little more warmth to their evening.
With his basic chores done, he walked to the porch to stand next to her. The big dog lumbered over, and Nora rubbed her ears. “He’s a Newfie, isn’t he?” she asked. “My… my stepmother’s getting a Newfie puppy this weekend.”
“Yeah, she’s a Newfoundland. She was bred by my cousin, but the lineage has been in my family for years. The dogs were originally bred for rescuing fisherman, that’s why she loves all that icy cold water. Her name is Rosie.”
While he spoke, he wondered how soft Nora’s waist would be if he snuck his arms around her curves, but he quickly worked to defeat the thought. Despite having spanked her naughty bottom, he barely knew this girl. Until he could get her back to her family, the beautiful woman was under his protection, but the tug on his cock at every turn made the gentlemanly actions difficult.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she sighed as the downpour continued. “Doesn’t it do anything except rain around here?”
“And what’s wrong with a little rain?” he asked gently. “Look around you. All that chilly moisture brings us this deep layer of verdant beauty that’s unique to our island.”
“I dunno. I guess I’ve just spent my whole life wishing the rain would go away so I could do something fun. It’s so…” She stopped with her brow crinkled in concentration. “It’s so quiet here. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m used to cars and honking with a gazillion people running around. What the heck do you do around here after dark with nothing electronic?”
“Yeah, I gets to New York a few times a year on business, and Toronto’s the same with the noise and the people. I love living there for its convenience, but you’re close to the deity here, whichever one you chose to honor. Just stop and listen for a moment.”
She waited with a confused frown. “I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s your city brain looking for noises. Stop a
nd really listen, without your sight. Tell me what you hear.”
She scrunched her eyes tightly shut with her fists clenched to match the intensity, but he forced her gaze to his when he took the tiny, perfectly sized right hand in his own to relax her. “Close your eyes again, Nora. Listen carefully to what you’ve been missing. You’ll hear the sounds of the fairies in the woods calling you to join them.”
“Fairies?” she asked with a mix of skepticism and childish awe. “Like Tinkerbell?”
He turned to his grandmother’s stories to appeal to the little girl buried inside of her. “Newfoundland fairies aren’t always to be trusted. They lead people deep into the woods with their music until they’re lost from their families. Or they coerce innocents right off steep cliffs or into the deepest water, never be seen again.”
“They sound a little scary,” she said with a shudder. “I think I like the Hollywood version better.”
“Fair enough,” he said sternly. “But mind what I say and close your eyes. Just listen.” Her obedience pleased him, and the little girl’s submission complemented her very adult curves and smooth skin. “Now,” he said sternly, squeezing both of her hands. “What do you hear?”
She was silent a few seconds longer, her clenched eye muscles loosening as she slowly relaxed. “I… I hear the water dripping in your gutters. And a bird… a bird… he sounds really pis—, uh, angry, like somebody or something is too close to his nest. The wind is blowing the trees with some branches cracking. And the rain is slowing, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he responded with a chuckle. “Keep going…”
There was another long silence, and he slid his fingertips across her inner wrist. She rewarded him with a small grin and a wiggle of her hips. “Stop that,” she insisted with a giggle. “It tickles.”
