Something Brave

by Victoria Blisse

  “And you…erm… I don’t know your name,” she said with a shrug and a giggle. She tried to pull back her hand, but he gripped it tighter.

  “You can call me Sir,” he said with a smirk, let go of her hand and walked away.

  Felicity fell onto the seat, happy that it was behind her as she’d anticipated. Her knees had completely gone to jelly, and she was incapable of standing for even a moment longer. She should have been disgusted and upset. His behavior had been boorish at best and that kind of cocky arrogance usually made her seethe. But she couldn’t get the mark of his kiss from her hand or his words out of her mind.

  What did he mean she could call him ‘Sir’? She called most of her male customers ‘sir’ but she didn’t think he’d meant that.

  Felicity was naive in the main. Most of her sexual experiences had been with herself except for the barely noticeable exception of the man she’d given her virginity to. He had been selfish, the experience unfulfilling and he’d never called her after that night. She’d been somewhat relieved since she hadn’t want to endure any more sex, and although the rejection had hurt, she was confident it was for the best in the long run.

  Back in her book-nerd college days, she had stumbled across something strange in the poetry aisle as she’d searched for a particular volume of Wordsworth for her English coursework.

  Her first reaction had been to re-shelve it where it belonged, but then she had seen the cover and its title, Spanking Stories for Naughty Boys and Girls, she couldn’t help but feel curious. The cover had shown the backsides of a man and a woman in old-fashioned uniforms.

  Felicity had picked it up along with another poetry volume and slipped it inside. She’d spent two hours she didn’t really have reading it cover to cover. She discovered a special affinity for those stories about naughty girls, found the spankings intriguing. She’d been scared, offended and strangely aroused all at the same time. When she had finished, she’d left the smut inside the poetry book, popped it away on the shelf and had found the volume she’d been looking for.

  It would come to mind now and then, and she’d revisited some of the stories in her mind when she’d masturbated back in the day, but as time went by, she had all but forgotten it. Until this fair, that painting across the way and that infuriating man—who she really, really wanted to spank her.

  And that strange and overwhelming desire scared her half to death. Felicity was well known for being in control. Back when she’d worked in the office, she had been the one with the straightest, tidiest desk, the one who’d gotten all her work done on time, and that had made her pretty unpopular. She had never made any friends there, never attempted to. She had kept herself to herself in a little bubble of OCD perfection. In fact, she had done that for most her life. It didn’t hurt when people rejected her if she pretended she didn’t want them in her life anyway.

  It was uncomfortable to contemplate giving away that control and submitting to another. But something about that bright-eyed, arrogant man made her want to— made her heart beat faster, made her pussy cream. She was excited and petrified at the same time and she loved it and hated it in equal measure. Her desire to escape overwhelmed her, but since she had customers at her stall, she just couldn’t.

  She threw herself into selling her wares. She was busy and managed to get her flushing cheeks under control, even though her mind kept flipping back to his words. She could still feel the lingering mark of his lips on the top of her hand. As much as the fair had been a shocker, she was doing well. Apparently, not everyone wanted kink like her most stubborn customer— stubborn because she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

  She cleared a crowd of young girls—probably students from the university—and was looking forward to a sit down and a slurp of tea from the pretty pink thermos she’d brought with her. Just when she was about to take a seat, someone else walked over. It was him again.

  “Hello, Felicity.” He smiled that maddening smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “Hello, erm, Sir,” she replied, cheeks already heated. They’d hardly started the conversation.

  “I’ve not been able to find what I’m looking for, so I’d like to commission you to make them for me.”

  “Okay, I can do that.” She dropped into practical mode, picking up her notepad and pen. “So handcuff cufflinks, metallic, by the end of the month. Can I just take some contact details—”

  “I’ll contact you,” he replied with a smirk. “Have you gotten a card? Oh, yes.” He picked up one of the piles she’d clumsily knocked over the last time he’d been there. “Your number isn’t on it, though.”

  “No, I usually communicate via e-mail.”

  “I prefer to use the phone. Write your number on the back for me.”

  She bristled at his tone. “Well I don’t usually —”

  “No, but this isn’t a usual situation, Felicity. Please write your number down for me.”

  “No.” Felicity discovered her backbone. She wasn’t going to budge on this one. It was a matter of personal safety. “I don’t give my number to anyone I don’t know, erm, intimately.”

  She blushed again and questioned her use of vocabulary.

  “Fair enough. I shall just have to get to know you intimately then, Felicity. And what a delight that will be.”

  His piercing eyes held her to the spot. Felicity wasn’t sure if she was going to explode from fear or delight, or both.

  “I think I already know a secret about you.” He nodded.

  “Really?” She tried desperately hard to keep her tone casual.

  “Oh, yes.” He leaned over the table, beckoning her to come closer.

  She did, with trepidation.

  “You want me to spank you.”

  She recoiled physically from his words. How could he know that? She barely knew that, but deep inside, those words resonated, because they were the truth. She did want him to spank her.

  “I can see it written all over your face, Felicity. Don’t look so surprised.”

  “I—” She shook her head, determined to tell him he was talking out of his backside, that he was rude and egotistical and she didn’t want anything more to do with him.

  “Don’t deny it,” he said.

  His stare penetrated her secret places where she hid her deepest fears and longings.

  “Don’t lie to me, Felicity.”

  Her natural instinct was to tell the truth. Brought up in constant chaos, never knowing what was truth, falsehood or fabrication, she found it difficult even to tell a white lie. But she wasn’t lying. She didn’t want what he was offering. She couldn’t do. It was all very antiquated and weird. It was just a passing whim, a curiosity. She didn’t really want to know what it felt like to be struck by his palm or an instrument of his choosing, did she?

  “I will give you half an hour to ponder, then I will come back here with a onetime-only offer. If you say no, that will be it—the end of our interactions. If you say yes… Well, then the fun will begin.”

  He smirked again and Felicity looked down at her hands, which she was fiddling together nervously.

  “I will ask you if you’re willing to submit to me. Then I will set you a challenge. If you complete that challenge, I will open you up to a world of sensuous delights. Do you understand?”

  Did she? He was being very vague, but somehow she got the message loud and clear.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “I understand.”

  “Oh, Felicity, you disappoint me. I’ve already told you how to address me.”

  She looked up again and saw him staring sternly at her. She automatically held her hands behind her, as if she’d been reprimanded for fiddling.

  “Sorry,” she replied bashfully.

  “Say it properly,” he demanded.

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.” She let out a shuddering breath.

  “Better.” He nodded. “Okay, Felicity. I shall see you in thirty minutes. Be ready.”

  And of course, the moment he left,
several people crowded her stall, and she didn’t have any time to think. Her first instinct was to tell him no. She didn’t need the work. She didn’t need the hassle and she certainly didn’t need him. But as the thirty minutes ticked down, she became less certain of her assertion. This was an opportunity she’d never receive again— an opportunity to try out something wild, something brave. Felicity had never been wild, not once, and a spark of rebellion deep in her soul flashed at the thought of it.

  But could she do it? She wasn’t sure and that made her nervous. Felicity liked to do everything well and had never taken on anything too challenging because of that need to please. She’d limited herself to tasks she knew she could do proficiently, so she would receive praise. She’d never submitted to a man before, never undergone a spanking. What if she was really bad at it?

  Chapter Two

  She still hadn’t decided if she could do it when he came back. She was busy showing a lady in a top hat covered in cogs her selection of steampunk jewelry when she caught his profile out of the corner of her eye. He stood confidently at the other end of the table. He wasn’t fidgeting or pretending to admire her stock. He stayed there and waited for her. She didn’t look at him, but she was very aware of his presence.

  She prayed the lovely steampunk lady would be indecisive, that he’d get bored and walk away. But the lady knew what she wanted and the transaction was over in a matter of moments.

  “So, Felicity, you’ve had time to think.”

  She strode toward him boldly. She was going to say no. She was sure she was going to say no. She had the barrier of the table between them, so she would say no. When she got to the far corner of the table—only a few strides but her legs wobbled on each one—he reached out and took her hand. She tried to pull it back, but he held her fast. Poised over the table, his long fingers hot against hers, she imagined them touching her in other places. Her cheeks flamed with the improper thoughts that bloomed in her mind.

  He said nothing for the longest time. She avoided his gaze and it was only when Felicity looked up into his startling eyes that he spoke.

  “Will you submit to me?”

  He didn’t lower his tone. She was convinced everyone in the room had heard him. A furtive glance around seemed to show that no one was paying any attention to them. They were too absorbed in their own actions.

  “I’ll only ask the once, Felicity. What’s your answer?”

  She looked into his eyes and her thought processes, her strength of will, her logic, crumbled. All she was aware of was him and her overwhelming desire to let him have her in any way he wanted. She didn’t understand it, but she felt it, and for once in her life, she did something brave.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good, good, that’s the right answer, Felicity.” He kissed her hand, squeezed it then let go with a smile.

  Felicity felt as if she couldn’t catch a breath…that her ribs were tightening to the point she would expire.

  “Breathe, Felicity. My challenge isn’t too great for you to deal with.”

  Feeling dizzy, she placed a hand on the sumptuous red cloth to steady herself. She wasn’t aware of him moving, but the next thing she knew, he was beside her, gripping her arm and encouraging her to sit.

  “Sorry,” she finally gasped.

  “It’s okay.” He passed her the bottle of water that sat near the change box. “You just shocked yourself. That’s all.” He waited for her to sip then continued. “Don’t worry. My challenge isn’t exceptionally difficult. All you need to do is go downstairs and choose an implement you want me to punish you with, simple as that. Purchase it and bring it back to me. I will watch your stall while you do.”

  He’d answered all her questions, quashed her protest. She was going to have to do it.

  “Just a note of caution. If I suspect you’ve wimped out and picked the easy option, something fluffy and airy-fairy, then I won’t be pleased, and your punishment will reflect that. Pick something that challenges you and I will reward you.”

  She nodded and took another sip from her water bottle. The world had stopped spinning, though her hands still shook and she was very aware of her racing heart.

  “Now you’d better get a move on. There’s only an hour or so of the fair left. Oh, and don’t forget a receipt. I will reimburse you for the purchase. After all, I’ll be the one wielding the implement.”

  She nodded again. He tipped up her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.

  “Do you understand, Felicity?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her words were jittery and she drew in a shuddering breath.

  “Well done.” He completely surprised her by leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, briefly, softly, then retreated. “Right. I’ll look after things here. You go and browse around.”

  Felicity stood. Her stomach tightened and twisted into knots, and her extremities seemed to have turned to water, but she did manage to move. She walked down the stairs and wondered, handbag bouncing against her hip, how she’d gotten herself into this particular predicament. No, her answer was going to be a firm, positive no. As she remembered his lips on hers and the warmth that had spread through her when he’d praised her, she smiled to herself and questioned if saying yes had been the right thing to do.

  Looking around the downstairs stalls, she started doubting herself again. The items were weird and wonderful, and in some instances downright scary—giant dildos, some shaped like fists, next to wands and sticks and funny-shaped plastic things. There were corkscrews in glass and clamps that were designed to go God knows where. It all made Felicity’s eyes widen.

  It didn’t get any easier as she moved round the different stalls. Ping-pong bats, spiky wheels and dog masks were on the next stall, and beside those, all kinds of flimsy bits of latex. Finally, she found a stall of implements that she at least recognized. Some of them struck fear into her heart, like the whip-thin canes and the paddles that seemed big and heavy enough to be cheese boards. She didn’t stare at those too long. She eyed a couple of floggers. She knew they were called that because of the handy labels on them. The leathery fronds looked like they might feel quite nice. Then a guy standing next to her picked one up and flicked it. The crack made her conclude it wasn’t as sweet and innocent as it appeared.

  The various paddles attracted her. Some wooden, some leather, but she wondered if simply picking a paddle would be classed as too easy. She really didn’t want to displease him. Sir, whatever his damn name was… Her cheeks flushed again when she realized she was picking an instrument of torture to give to some guy who she didn’t even have a name for. And he was going to spank her with it.

  “Are you okay, miss?” The man behind the stall smiled confidently at her. “Do you need any help?”

  “Oh, no, just looking,” she said, her words running into each other in her eagerness to reply and stop the mortifying conversation in its tracks.

  “All right, but if you have any questions, just ask. Most items have a price on them. Feel free to pick up and touch the merchandise, get a feel for it.”

  Felicity smiled and nodded. She didn’t need to get a feel for it. She wouldn’t be the one using it. She continued to browse, her stomach churning with anxiety. Then she saw it—black, leather, long and sleek. A riding crop. He mouth dried. Her favorite story in the book she shouldn’t have read involved a stable, a bratty lady and a stable boy with a wicked aim who used a crop to mollify his spoiled employer.

  Felicity picked it up. It was quite light and flexible. Even the movement of being lifted made it sway. She held one end in her left hand and ran her right along it. When she reached the leather tab at the end, she realized one side was soft like suede and the other shiny and smooth. She wondered if it would feel different, depending on the side that impacted with her skin.

  “Oh, it’s a good seller, that. Last one I’ve got actually. It’s got a good weight in the hand.”

  Felicity nodded, hoping she seemed knowledgeable.

  “And it
leaves cracking marks with very little effort. I must admit it’s a personal favorite.”

  Felicity tried hard not to wonder which end of the riding crop the man felt. She didn’t want to know. She had made her decision, though.

  “Okay, I’ll take this one,” she said. Her stomach ached with tension as she passed the crop to the stallholder with a crisp twenty-pound note. He dropped the implement into a long plastic bag and passed it to her with her change. It was only when she walked back up the stairs that the reality of what she’d done really sank in. She was taking a riding crop to a strange man and she was going to let him hit her with it. She misstepped and tripped up the last stair to the second floor, catching herself before sprawling on the ground.

  Of course, he was watching her. Their eyes met, and he smirked. She smoothed the length of her skirt, took a deep breath and walked toward him. He still smiled, his eyes sparkling as his lips curled, and Felicity remembered how good it had felt when he’d kissed her. He was going to do far more than kiss her. She caught her breath at the warming thought. The heat seemed to travel from her mind out to her extremities, pooling in the pit of her stomach and below, between her thighs. It worried her that if she got any more turned on, her juices would trickle down her leg. She couldn’t believe just how worked up she was after a few touches and a kiss. It wasn’t the physical things that made her so wet. It was the way he played with her mind.

  Felicity strode over to her stall. She was determined not to let him see how nervous she was, so she put on a show.

  “Ah, you’re back. I sold a necklace and some earrings while you were gone.”

  “Thank you.” Felicity walked around behind the stall to stand beside him.

  “So what did you get?” he asked.

  She passed him the long, thin bag.

  “Oh, this does look encouraging.” He pulled out the crop and turned it in his hands, lifted it in the air, then peered along it, as if checking its straightness or length. He flexed it, an end in each hand, focused intently on the ridge of the bend.