Knocked Up and Punished: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Well, I like it,” she says, smiling up at me. “It feels nice. I never really had this kind of gentleness in my life. My dad was always hard on us. So hard,” she says, looking distantly toward a group of candles by the wall. “Nothing ever made him happy. He demanded so much and I think for a long time I tried to make him happy. I wanted to be his good little girl because I was silly enough to think that was the problem. He wasn’t abusive because he was just an asshole to me back then, it was because I wasn’t ever good enough. But when I would do exactly what he wanted, he always seemed to change the rules at the last minute. That was the thing. I could never win. I could never make him happy. Eventually, I figured out the truth, but it was only after so many wasted years.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, cupping her cheek and kissing her forehead. “You know you’ve pleased me very much tonight though, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says, smiling shyly at me. Her expression fades into dejection as she looks down. “I must sound so creepy right now. Like I’m using you as some kind of substitute for my dad that I could never please, but--”

  “No,” I say. “It’s not creepy or strange. It’s normal. Everybody has unresolved issues from their past, and if they say they don’t, they’re either lying or oblivious. Hell, I think that’s most of the point in being an adult. You’re trying to find a way to move beyond the demons in your past, whatever way that is. Some people ignore them, some embrace them, and some overcome them. This is an outlet for you, Miley. It’s cathartic because it helps you heal. Never be ashamed of that. Do you understand me? That’s a command,” I add with a little mock seriousness.

  She flashes me a crooked smile, nodding her head but wiping at her eyes.

  “I mean it,” I say, cupping her face and lifting her chin so she’s looking at me. I wipe a tear from the corner of her eye and kiss her tenderly, longingly. “This is what you need it to be. There’s never any reason to be ashamed of that.”

  “What is it for you?” she asks.

  I chuckle, letting my hands fall and taking my turn studying the ground. She’s perceptive, I’ll give her that, but right now I wish she wasn’t. I can’t exactly tell her to embrace her past and how good a thing it is while also hiding my own from her. So I suck up my reluctance and start talking.

  “For me? I think there are two parts to it. On one hand, it lets the little, skinny kid from my past take control. There were times when I looked at my life and how everything was happening around me and I’d just think how I had no power over any of it. Things could go to complete shit, and it wouldn’t matter how hard I wanted or tried, it’d happen anyway. So maybe part of it is right there. This world is a place where I can take that control back. And if I can take control here, it helps me feel like there’s a little more sense to the rest of it, I guess.”

  She nods. “That makes sense. And what is the other part?”

  “The other part is that I thought one day I’d find a submissive who needed something very specific from her dom. Not just sex. Not just cold domination. Not even just passion. I wanted a submissive who was nearly broken and at the edge of her ability to resist. Someone beautifully flawed--just barely holding on when it seemed like everything was out of her control and the world didn’t care how much she wanted or tried. I wanted to find that woman and show her there is control. There is order. There is a place where she can let go and trust in someone else to be her guide. I wanted to find you,” I say.

  More tears well in her eyes and she leans her head down onto my shoulder, wrapping her small arms around my back.

  “You’re the one I’ve been looking for all this time,” I whisper. “My perfect submissive. My perfect woman. The woman I love,” I say.

  My own words send a cold shock through me. I hadn’t planned to say so much, to reveal everything like I just did. But now that the words have come out of me, I feel the expectation hanging between us like electricity. Will she say it too? Can she?

  She’s crying harder now. Fuck, I think. My stomach is sinking and feels cold. She doesn’t feel the same way. As much as I’ve read into her thoughts and behavior, I’ve been wrong. I was so sure everything between us was mutual, and now I’ve laid it out on the table and she’s flinching, unwilling to commit to what I’ve offered her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says suddenly, pulling away and getting off the bed to find her clothes, which she hastily slips back into. “I can’t be what you need me to be. I want it. I really do. But it wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t.”

  I’m too stunned to speak. I can only watch as she moves to the door and takes one last, longing look back at me. In that moment I can see she’s about to say something, and I lean forward, waiting for the words because my own won’t seem to come.

  Her expression changes and she looks back toward the door, stepping halfway out to the hallway. “I’m sorry,” she says again before closing the door.

  The door closing snaps me out of my surprise. I jump up from the bed and chase after her, not even taking the time to put my shirt back on. I see just a glimpse of her heel disappearing out of view at the end of the hallway and run to catch up with her.

  She’s moving down the stairs as fast as she can, making me nervous as hell that she’s going to trip and fall down in her hurry to get away from me.

  Fuck. The thought makes my stomach turn. Somehow, some way I turned into the thing I wanted to protect her from, the kind of thing that made her want to run.

  I catch up with her at the bottom of the stairs, drawing a fair amount of attention from my lack of a shirt, but it’s not the craziest thing people have seen at one of my parties, so their attention is only momentary.

  “Miley,” I say once I’m just behind her and able to grab her arm.

  She tries to pull away from me and I instinctively grip harder, not wanting her to get away before I can find out what’s wrong.

  “Let go!” she cries, pulling again.

  “Miley, just let me--” I say, reaching for her other arm.

  She brings her hand up and slaps me hard enough that the sound rises above the music, making anyone who wasn’t already watching the spectacle stop what they’re doing to look now.

  My hand falls away from her arm and she hurries outside, pulling out her phone--probably to call someone to come pick her up.

  “At least let me give you a ride home,” I say, even as my cheek stings from the slap.

  She gives me a look over her shoulder that I can’t entirely make sense of. I see sorrow and regret in her features, maybe fear. She closes the front door behind her, leaving me to feel that special kind of alone you can only feel in such a crowded place.

  “You okay?” Leo asks squattingdown beside me at the bottom of the stairs.

  I didn’t even realize I had sunk down to sit with my back against the bannister. I look over at him, ignoring the curious faces turned our way.

  “Should I be?” I ask.

  He chuckles, then sits down cross-legged in front of me, which is an odd sight to see from such a big man. It has been a long fucking time since Leo had to look out for me, but I can see him slipping back into the role effortlessly. He’s my big brother, and in so many ways he was always a shield for me. I thought I’d outgrown the need for that side of him, but Miley walking away makes it feel like someone just ripped a handful of my heart away.

  “Depends,” he says. “Did you fuck up?”

  “That’s what I’m asking myself,” I say distantly.

  “Ah,” he says knowingly. “A mystery mistake?”

  I nod.

  “Damn,” he says. “Those are fucking tough. But hey, it can only be so many things, right?”

  “Uh,” I say doubtfully. “She’s a woman, Leo. I’m pretty sure it can basically be any of the things.”

  He grins. “I mean if you break it down by category of fuck ups. There’s really just a few broad categories when it comes to relationships. Think about it. You’ve got things you did, and things y
ou didn’t do that she wanted you to. Oh, and things you said or things you didn’t say,” he adds, sounding a little less confident that this is as simple as he was making it sound. “And I guess there’s things she has come to realize you’ll never do--or things she realizes you’ll never stop doing. I’m not really helping, am I?”

  I grin. “Not really.”

  He makes a sour face, nodding. “Hey,” he says more seriously. “Just give her a couple days. I know you probably want to go kick her door down or some other heroically stupid kind of thing right now, but maybe she just needs a few days to appreciate how much happier she was when she was with you.”

  “A couple days? Fuck, man. I was going to go over once she had time to get a ride home.”

  Leo raises his eyebrows at me like a scornful parent. “So she runs away from you at the party, won’t even ride home with you, and you think she’s going to be happy to see you knocking at her door in an hour?”

  “Dammit,” I growl, spearing a hand through my hair. “Then I’ll wait till tomorrow.”

  “Jayce. I’m saying this because you’re my brother and I’m trying to look out for you. You’ve got to let her breathe for a couple days. Give it some time. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Yeah? Does your heart feel pretty fond for dad?” I ask.

  Leo glares at me. “Did I say abandon her and never come back?”

  I sigh. “So you’re suggesting I just wait?”

  “At least a few days. Give her some time to cool off.”

  “I’ll give her until tomorrow afternoon,” I say stonily.

  Leo laughs. “Yeah. That’s probably about how long I’d be able to wait, too.” He claps me on the shoulder and stands. “You lovebirds will figure it out. Don’t worry.”

  11

  Miley

  I watch out the window as hills roll by. Kyle and I have driven this route enough for me to know in about an hour, the hills will give way to the forested mountains that have been the site of countless camping trips.

  We used to come out here to the wilderness all the time up until a few years ago. I guess our lives got too busy or we drifted apart, but one way or another we stopped coming. Until I came home from Jayce’s party last night and asked Kyle to call out of work for a week so we could get away. It was definitely impulsive of me and immature on more levels than one, but I can’t face him.

  I know in my heart that I want a family. I want to have little kids running around my ankles. I want to cuddle babies, cry when I watch my kids get on the bus for their first day of school, and I want to be there crying like a baby when they graduate high school. Jayce felt like the perfect guy in every single way, except that he doesn’t want to give me the family I need. It’s a non-negotiable. I know that, but I also know if given a chance, he’d end up making me want to try things with him anyway.

  It might be fine for a few months or maybe even a few years, but eventually I’d know I had given the keys of my heart to a man who didn’t want to go to the same place I do.

  “So,” Kyle says from the driver’s seat of the truck. “Are you planning on telling me the real reason we’re doing this on such short notice? Or am I supposed to keep believing you just really missed camping all of the sudden?”

  I sigh. There was a time not too long ago that I wouldn’t have ever hid anything from Kyle, back when we were still living with dad. I can’t put my finger on what changed exactly, but at some point it felt like he had to turn into our dad to help us escape, almost like the brother I knew permanently sacrificed part of himself for me. Now when I look at him, I see moments and glimpses of our dad behind his eyes, and it wakes up all the old instincts to stay quiet and not open up.

  I owe him more than sulky silence though, so I decide to suck it up and start talking. “I needed to get away for a few days so Jayce couldn’t talk me into getting back together with him,” I say.

  Kyle half-turns, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you two broke up.”

  It irks me that I hear a slight hint of relief or excitement in his tone, but I shouldn’t be surprised. In all honesty, I think Kyle would like it best if I went the rest of my life single. Maybe I shouldn’t blame him though, considering my track record. I’ve probably been an overprotective brother’s worst nightmare, but it was never intentional. It feels dumb to think it now, but when I look back on all my relationship troubles, it always started with me thinking this guy would be the one who was really good to me--the one who was different. Surprise, surprise. That’s exactly how I felt when I met Jayce. But he was good to me. Just not good for me.

  “I’m not sure if Jayce realizes either,” I say.

  Kyle chuckles. “What, you’re just ghosting him?”

  “He’s obnoxiously persuasive,” I say, but my justification sounds thin, even to my own ears. “If I tried to tell him flat-out, he’d just talk me out of it. That’s mostly why I want to get away. With a week to clear my head and get him off my mind, I will be able to stand my ground when we come back. I’ll tell him it’s not going to work and we’ll both be able to move on.”

  “I could tell him for you, you know.”

  “I know I’m not exactly handling this like a mature adult right now, but I’m not ready to revert all the way back to middle school level. I just need time to make sure my head is clear before I talk to him again.”

  “Well, here I was thinking you wanted to spend time with your big brother.”

  “I do. I could’ve just come up here by myself, couldn’t I?”

  “Yeah, except you’ve never be able to put up your tent or start a fire without my help. I feel so used,” he says with a grin.

  I glare at him. “I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to put up my own tent.”

  “Yeah? I guess we’ll find out.”

  Two Weeks Later

  I wait for what seems like ages while the pregnancy test indicator gradually fades into view. I didn’t feel ready to come back after a week like I had originally planned, so it turned into two. I let my phone die so I wouldn’t be tempted to take any of Jayce’s calls or texts, which started pouring in the day after we left. I only just plugged it in an hour ago when Kyle and I got back, exhausted and thankful for air conditioners and solid walls after so many days outside.

  My period should have come a week into our camping trip, but all the pads and tampons I brought along are still unopened in my camping bag.

  This is the first pregnancy test I’ve ever used, and I stupidly imagined it would be a special moment. I never thought I’d be hunched over on the toilet, hands shaking because I’m so scared of what it will mean if that faint blue color forms into a plus sign. Even if it’s a negative, I’m not usually late on my period, so I’ll be worried it was just a false negative since I’m taking the test on the early side.

  My stomach sinks when what was starting to look like a minus sign sprouts a little bit of blue that begins to stretch upwards and downwards. Positive.

  I drop the test on the ground, but the positive sign keeps growing darker and more clear, as if it needed to make the message any easier to see.

  I’m pregnant.

  I cup my face in my hands, breathing out long, shuddering breath after long, shuddering breath. I have to tell him. I don’t know how in hell I’m going to do it, but he needs to know it’s his. Whether he wants to be part of this babies life or not, he needs to know, and that terrifies me to my core.

  All my life I’ve been searching for a man who will accept me and treat me well, and I think in a large part it’s because my dad never accepted me. So I’ve felt desperate to find a man who would. Now the only man who ever seemed to accept me is going to learn that something he doesn’t want is growing inside me.

  The worst part is I know I won’t be able to tell him right away. I just ran off from him for two weeks without so much as a text to let him know where I was going, and he has no idea that in my mind we had broken up. I run my fingers through
my hair and hang my head. Leave it to me to take the perfect guy and make this big of a mess, to be this stupid and impulsive.

  Somehow I’m going to have to find the courage to tell him the truth. I just hope I can do it before things go too far again, before I let him suck me back into his dark, beautiful world.

  12

  Jayce

  I knock on the door to Miley’s apartment. I checked with her landlord last week and she didn’t move out, so I’ve just been hoping like hell she’ll come back, because she hasn’t returned my calls or my texts. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve yelled at Leo for suggesting I give her time. If I had just come to her fucking apartment that night like I was planning, I bet I could’ve caught her before she left.

  Now I’ve spent the last two weeks like some kind of stalker. I’ve been coming by her apartment every day, sometimes more than once, knocking and waiting for her to open the door so I can have a chance to figure out why she’s blowing me off.

  If I was a better man, I’d say I wasn’t pissed. The truth is I’m angry with her. Regardless of what she’s been through or dealing with, she should’ve known she could trust me enough to talk with me about it. Blowing me off like this was bullshit, and I’m not going to promise myself I’ll go easy on her for it.

  The door swings open and all my anger disappears the moment I see her face. Her hair’s a mess and she looks flustered, but I’ve wanted to see her so badly now for what feels like so long, she looks more beautiful than she ever has. I step forward, wrapping her in a tight hug. “You’re okay,” I say. “I was worried about you.”