Off Duty

by Ellie Masters

  “I’d like nothing more,” I told her, growing even more aroused and hoping I didn’t jizz right in my fucking shorts. “You can keep your panties on, or show me all you have to offer. I think the proverbial ball is back in your court, honey.”

  CHAPTER 17

  During that space of forever where he’d left me waiting, I fought off no less than five panic attacks, two anxiety attacks, and one what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking attack.

  What had come over me? I’d driven to a man’s house, and not only knelt waiting for him, but crawled on all fours and begged for a beating. I didn’t even know who I’d become.

  And it was Keith!

  Of all the men I could have chosen, and I could have any I wanted, he kept boomeranging back into my life.

  He soothed me in this odd way. Not once did he snicker, or lord himself over me. Instead, he seemed to accept whatever this was. I’d come to him because I needed two things. While I could have any man, my career ensured I had no time to date. My life lacked connection, and I craved that feeling of belonging to another. I sought that in him. Why? I still didn’t know, except it was in the gentle acceptance of his eyes.

  He could’ve turned me away. He could’ve laughed in my face. He could’ve done so many damaging things. Instead, the surety of his voice, that low rumble, comforted me when I should have been scared as shit. He didn’t look down on me with scorn, but a look of wonder ghosted across his face. Then there was the second thing. What he offered was something I’d craved for far too long.

  To get to the spanking bench, I had to stand. My knees ached from kneeling for so long and I winced, shaking them out.

  “Can I ask you something?” The tremor in my voice wasn’t something I could control.

  “Isn’t that kind of a question?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I meant. It’s a serious question, or rather, a request.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Lay it on me.”

  I bit my lower lip, debating whether to even voice what was going on in my head, but he needed to know what drove me.

  “You going to stare at me until the sun comes up, or spit it out?” He asked.

  My insides knotted, one part fear, one part holy-hell-he’s-hot, and a final pinch of I-was-fucking-crazy.

  I cleared my throat. “Can you stop asking me what I want? I just need to kind of … let go. Can you kind of just…” Holy hell, I was certifiable.

  “I’m waiting?”

  “The ball is yours, from the moment I crossed that threshold, you have my consent. Panties on or off. The cross or the bench. Whatever your pleasure, I’m yours to do as you please.”

  “That’s a whole hell of a lot of power for two people who don’t know each other all that well, and considering you kind of hate my guts…”

  My eyes widened. “I wouldn’t be here if I hated your guts. I’m just not one to warm up to someone.” I glanced down. “Look, my life is intense. The job is insane. For an hour, or two, or however long you’ll have me, can I just not be the one to have to make any decisions?”

  He cupped my chin, his eyes smouldering with desire. “I hear ya. I really do, but not for our first time. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Panties on or off?”

  I hooked my fingers under the lace of my panties and pulled them down, then I unfastened my bra and let it flutter to the floor. With my eyes latched to his, I lowered to the floor. My knees met the hardness of concrete, while my eyes latched onto the hardness beneath his shorts.

  I licked my lips, wondering how far this night would go. Would he beat my ass and send me home? Or would I find myself strapped to that Saint Andrew’s Cross? Or would something more happen?

  “I’m yours,” I said. “Holy hell, but I am.”

  He said nothing. There was no sound between us except the heavy pull of his breaths. He left me there, kneeling, and walked over to the wall. I followed his every move, watching his powerful thighs, the flex of his ass, and when he turned around, the prominence of his erection bobbing beneath those shorts.

  “There are only three words you need to know,” he said. “Red, Green, and Sir.” He tapped the bench. “Now climb on board, and tell me, restraints or no?”

  “Tie me down. As much as I’m asking for this, from that first strike, I’ll be screaming to make it stop.” I looked at him, drilled right into him with my stare. “Don’t stop.”

  He waved me on, and I rose and felt the warm leather of the spanking bench. This man loved his toys. He’d either spent a fortune on this stuff, or he was a master woodworker. The tooling on the leather amazed me.

  “You going to pet it, or hop on board?”

  I glanced at him. “I’m just admiring the work.” In reality, I was checking out my chosen device of torture. Odd, how it didn’t matter to me standing buck naked in front of him. Perhaps, in my mind, I figured he’d already seen me naked from my stripping days. Any hesitation I may have had fled the moment I’d knelt before him. Despite my fears, I was committed. I draped myself over the bench, wiggling until I found a comfortable position.

  That was funny! Comfortable position!

  In a few seconds, I’d be in so much pain, comfort wouldn’t even be in the equation. I wiggled my ass, enticing my doom, then screeched as his hand connected with my left cheek. A loud smack filled the garage, and my scream rolled through a second later. I bucked up, lifting off the bench, but he placed a hand between my shoulder blades, pinning me in place.

  “Don’t you dare fucking move,” he growled.

  “I wasn’t ready!”

  “Who the fuck cares? You belong to me, or did you forget that little speech?”

  Smack. Smack. Smack. He lit my ass on fire. One hand pinning me in place, the other destroying my ass.

  “You fucking ass!” I screeched.

  “Oh, see, you shouldn’t have said that,” he said with a laugh. “That’s going to cost you. Rule number one, never swear at me again.”

  CHAPTER 18

  I don’t know when, or if, I’d been hornier, ever in my life. I know the twenty-something models were supposed to be iconic to our culture, women with not an ounce of fat and not so much as a hint of crow’s feet or laugh lines, but I swear to God, nobody had ever appealed to me as this woman did. I selected a razor strop from my assembly of toys, and took delight in lashing Laura, and even more in upbraiding her for her runaway mouth. My God, her ass was a work of art to me, proof of God’s Holy Supremacy when He created Woman from Adam’s rib. I raised the strop, then gave a sharp smack onto Laura’s ass, one that could’ve gone far further, but I didn’t want to fuck her up. If she howled “red” at any point, the scene was instantly done, I knew. And if I decided she’d had enough. I would damn sure heed my own safeword.

  A series of submissive girlfriends ahead of Laura taught me what I’d sought and hadn’t found up to this evening in this building. She meant to give her utter surrender, matched with my utter acceptance, gripped by my need to lay no mercy on her until one of us decided she’d had enough, until one of us cried red. I knew that was likely to be me, considering Laura’s stubbornness, but, even ten lashes into this session, I knew she was going to be the one to cry red. I was ready to beat her ass until it was swollen double and purple, and only then putting her on the St. Andrew and laying the whip to her. Only then did I mean to fuck her, and fuck her hard. All of this assuming I didn’t drop my load right into my Hanes undies while laying the strop into her, not as hard as I was able, but harder than just fun-and-games.

  I’ve learned good people instincts in my life, like when someone was about to turn violent, or the right turn-of-phrase to de-escalate tensions. It’s more art than science and can’t be explained in metrics. But all of those instincts were telling me she needed, was indeed begging, to be bested, and I had the honor of doing so. Maybe a medal was in the offing, perhaps the High Order of the Purple Paddle or some shit like that, I considered, stifling a laugh as I laid down lash after lash, being sure to catc
h her thighs with the odd lash here and there, which I knew were far more sensitive than the ass. Speaking of ass, hers was coloring beautifully, very dark pink, and I paused a moment to touch and caress, hardening even more at intimately touching this beauty, this goddess being humbled, my own captured Helen of Troy. She moaned, and I sensed her aroused aromas on the still air.

  “We’re far from done,” I said idly. “And when you cry red, that only means you go see my buddy St. Andy for a date with my whip. He’ll keep you still for it, honey-pie.”

  “Oh, God, what did I get myself into?” she moaned. “Turn me loose, asshole!”

  “Not on your life,” I returned. “You know the magic word, and I think you know I need not only to crack that armor, but to shatter it, yes?”

  “You bastard,” she hissed, then deflated. “Yes, Sir, I know,” she admitted in a surprisingly humble tone. “I deserve it.”

  “You do,” I agreed. But it wasn’t that she deserved it for all of her ice-queen bitchiness or being Miss High and Mighty. This was more of a catharsis for her, I knew, not a punishment. She deserved to be happy, to be free of all that fucking armor she’d built up, and this whipping and probably several more to come, was the tool to disarm her, so to speak.

  “Let’s continue,” I said, and laid in probably twenty more lashes, not counting them as I might do in a punishment. Again, art not science. Finally, instead of weeping and wincing with the occasional yelp, she shrieked, a sound that came from the deepest pits of her being. She broke into wracking sobs which I took to mean red. Or maybe RED in flashing neon and possibly even fireworks and a high-school marching band.

  I dragged a chair to her and stroked her sweated hair while she cried out God alone knows what pains of her past, present, and perhaps unforeseen future maybe forever altered on this crude spanking bench in my 3-car dungeon. The tears lasted a long while, and as I stroked her hair and kissed her cheek, I came to understand I had deeper feelings for her than simple physical attraction. I wasn’t willing to call it love, not yet, but it was moving in that direction. Or maybe, it was simply admitting it to myself. I think this is what confused me and had my own signals scrambled when it came to Laura. I only hoped she felt as I did, that I didn’t do this to her but for her.

  CHAPTER 19

  I’m not really sure how I got from here to there. One moment I hated him, and the next?

  Too many emotions swirled in my head to put a name to it, but he’d bridged a connection with me. The sobs? Those were easy enough to explain, and I embraced them with every fiber of my being.

  I’d almost walked away. I’d hoped to impress him as I waited on my knees. A man who maintained a fully stocked dungeon knew how the game was played. Certain things were expected, like meeting him on my knees, and giving him a title which placed him in a position of power over me. I hadn’t expected to have to wait, and my anger intensified as I considered getting up and leaving.

  I’d seen him inside, and knew he’d read my note. He was testing me, and I’d be damned if I proved him right and walked away. Besides, I needed him, or at least what lay inside his dungeon.

  Somewhere along the way, this had stopped being a game.

  My ass hurt. My bruised flesh pulsed with pain and was swelling as blood rushed in to soothe tissues pushed past their endurance. I might be standing, or kneeling, for several days to come. Good thing a surgeon’s life was spent on their feet. I’d need a few days to heal.

  But we weren’t done yet.

  He’d broken through a wall I didn’t even know existed, and sat with me now, soothing me with his tender touch, but we had further to travel on this journey. He’d taken me on a path I couldn’t take alone. I needed to be sundered and broken in the worst possible way, and he’d risen to the challenge.

  Now, it was time to give him my soul.

  My choked sobs rattled Keith’s dungeon. In his arms, a catharsis within me took place.

  Only daughter of two amazing parents, I’d grown up loved and cherished. We had enough money to get by, but we were always just barely getting by. The accident which took them from me, changed me. I’d been outgoing in high school, but that last year ripped me apart. I faced the horror of foster care. I endured and survived. I was achingly alone. Friends abandoned me. My boyfriend tired of my endless sobs and left me to wallow in my misery. Those last few months of high school, were something I breathed through, because I definitely didn’t live through them.

  College plans evaporated too, until I found a way to wait tables to make ends meet. Only they didn’t. A huge gap separated the ends of my finances. My parents, as loving as they could be, had failed one major task. They’d left me bereft.

  Which began my stripping career. The heated glares of greasy men were things I pretended didn’t matter. Their pawing and overly intimate touches, I discounted. I was making ends meet, and that was all that mattered. In the meantime, my soul shattered.

  I sobbed for the loss of my parents. I cried at the objectification I’d willingly endured. I wallowed in self pity, at the distance I’d placed between myself and anybody else. Keith brought me here. The hardness of his hand pushed me through and past the brink. He destroyed my shields, because he was stronger than them. My fate rested in his hands.

  The man who held me now? He’d ripped and shattered all my walls. Deep inside, I knew that was what I’d needed. It’s why I swallowed my pride and returned to his doorstep. It’s why I’d knelt and waited for him to acknowledge my presence.

  While my cries quieted, I rubbed at my cheeks.

  I glanced at him, assessing him.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “What do you want to happen?”

  My eyes cut to the Saint Andrews. There was no way my body could endure much more, but I didn’t want to have that choice.

  “May I climb down?” As comfortable as the spanking bench might be, I needed to move.

  “Depends where you intend to go.” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “That’s not an option for you. We’ve barely begun.”

  My breath hitched and I dipped my head. “Do I have permission to come down?”

  “Depends, you going to ask like it’s owed you, or are you going to ask the man who owns you?”

  My pulse jackhammered in my throat. “The fact I’m even asking should be answer enough.” That I waited outside, so damn long, on my knees should be answer enough. But, I rephrased my question. “Sir, may I please climb off this bench?”

  “Since you asked all sweet and shit, why the hell not.” He leaned forward and gripped my hair, yanking my head back. “What’s going on in that sweet head of yours?”

  I crawled off the bench and rubbed my ass. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

  “Did you think it would tickle?”

  My initial reaction was to roll my eyes. Instead, I lowered to my knees. “I have a few questions,” I said. “If it pleases you… Sir.”

  “Hm,” he said, sitting back and crossing his arms. “Seems like the doc has learned some humility.”

  I smiled. “Maybe, I’m just now beginning to learn my place.”

  He gave an imperious wave. “What’s your question?”

  “Where do you see this going?”

  “As far as you like.”

  I hated how he deflected and never answered directly. If I was going to do this, become whatever the hell this was, I refused to lead from the wrong end of the whip. He either needed to step up and take control, or I would find that door and chalk this whole evening up as one hell of a fucked up learning experience.

  I glanced at the Saint Andrews. “If I got up and headed for the door, what would you do?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “No, you ass. I want to know what you would do? Do you just enjoy beating a woman’s ass? Or is there more?” Do you have the balls to take control! I wanted to scream my frustrations at him, but was smart enough to keep that to myself. Problem was, he had a way of seeing righ
t through me.

  I didn’t want to be an easy quick lay. And I sure as hell didn’t want to be Keith’s easy quick lay. What I wanted was for all the clamoring in my head to stop. I wanted, for one moment in time, to not be Laura Peters, MD, savior of the world. I wanted to be me. I wanted to belong. I wanted to be his. But, the problem with Keith was he couldn’t help being an ass. I wanted him to rule me, but not lord over me.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Yeah, there’s more,” I said, then took my own breath and let it out. “How about I have feelings for you, dammit?”

  “My name isn’t dammit,” she returned with her automatic mouth.

  “It is now,” I told her. “At the risk of repeating myself, I love you. Please don’t say it back unless you mean it. You’re not chained to the wall and I won’t hold you here against your will.” These weren’t cheap words with me.

  In that succession of subs over the past two years, I had started to love one of them when she bailed on me, Kaela, the one who couldn’t handle the hours I worked. I didn’t love easily, but I loved Laura.

  I looked at her and chuckled. “I hope you stay, but if you do leave, you might want to get dressed first before you get busted for indecent exposure.”

  “Ass!” she snapped, but blushed and flashed me a sheepish grin.

  “You have a nice one,” I returned. “Throbbing much?”

  She blushed a bit more, but nodded. “It … it’s a good hurt, if that makes sense.”

  Her blushing charmed me, but I saw the juxtaposition of her prior life, and wondered after it. Maybe she was just too far from that former life, too accustomed to being the High Priestess of Healing, armored in a lab coat, and suddenly confronting hidden facets within her. That answer felt right.