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“To worry?”
“I did leave the note.” It seemed as if she was repeating a conversation they’d had just hours before. At least this time he wasn’t so irrationally furious.
“That was good for about two hours. Vague as it was, I expected you back mid-morning. I’d have given you time away, Jocelyn. Hell, I need it too. But I don’t need it worrying like crazy every moment, wondering if you’re safe in a city you know nothing about. Dammit!” he blared. Cold was turning hot again. Though his eyes remained steely, she felt the flood of hot emotion rising in him.
“Perhaps you need to punish me?” she offered in a halting admission, the guilt that was claiming her was beginning to demand some kind of retribution. Anything to alleviate the uproar.
“You’re damn right. I’ve just spent the last couple of hours trying to decide just how.”
“You’ve spent hours?” she wondered aloud. “The meetings were over two hours ago?”
“Yes. I needed the break from you,” he said accusingly.
“I suppose you did.”
She sat in a chair by the window, he stood several feet away in the open room, his eyes glaring. She was screaming to herself, “do something, do something, do something!”
“Let’s just make this simple,” he finally said.
Not knowing what that meant, Jocelyn watched as Reggie undid cuff-links on his starched white shirt, and carefully rolled up the sleeves. It was serious business he was about to begin, and it terrified her wondering how he’d punish her this time. So clever, so devious, so harsh. The forms this chastisement could take might be the most alarming of anything she endured at his hand.
“I suppose you were testing me,” Reggie said, as he approached her.
“Testing?”
“Wondering if I would be angry with you for disappearing.”
“I don’t think so,” she answered, not having thought of that at all.
“C’mon Jocelyn, you think I’m testing you, why wouldn’t you do the same with me?”
“But…”
“I read women well.”
“Okay, maybe I was testing,” she conceded. “But I never thought about it consciously.”
“Well you can think about it while I’m spanking you.”
He sat down in the chair opposite her, and reached out for her arm and pulled her over his lap. Lifting the waistband of her sweat pants, he pulled them down to reveal her naked rear, not a stitch, her flesh all pink and waiting, any marks he’d made there before had already vanished. That was good, he thought. A nice clean slate. Pulling the pants off completely, he threw them off out of his way, and surrounding her waist with his arm, he aimed for her jiggling buttocks.
Her cheeks clenched and relaxed and then clenched while she waited in breathless silence for him to begin. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. He began with his hand, laying sharp stinging old fashioned smacks on the surface of her skin.
She was surprised how much it hurt.
Old fashioned it was for an inventive disciplinarian, simple and sweet, it had its own message. Over the knee, the palm of his hand, spanked like she was a little child who’d run away from home.
“Oh Reg, my god, this hurts!” she cried, after a good dozen smacks were making her bottom very warm.
His hand came down over and over so he could see the imprint of his fingers right over top of the rising red blush. He focused the treatment on the center of her bottom cheeks, going back to that fleshy spot again and again, until it was hot, and she was trying to squirm away from the next smack. Giving her a reprieve from that tender place, he peppered her all over, catching her ass on the sides and dropping to the tops of her thighs, where she squealed even more. And still, he returned to the center of her ass cheeks where it burned the worst.
“Ouch, oh no, ouch please, ouch ouch!” She wiggled and cried and felt the sting as the most appalling thing she’d ever felt, though it was not the most painful. The leather could be painful. Wood seemed more painful still. This was something that demanded more from her than she expected.
The warmth of his body, the fresh emotions, the way he held her, the attitude of anger, hurt, worry and care mixing into a concoction of rare quality. The intimacy was alarming her. She’d need another twenty four hours alone to figure this out. She certainly wouldn’t over his lap with him smacking her bottom.
She started to cry, though the spanking didn’t cease. If anything Reggie was more determined with his task. Her bottom crimson, he’d take it beyond any previous punishment. If he had to keep it up an hour he would, until all the tension between them was exhausted, and the blank slate was really a blank slate again.
“Pleeeese, Reg,” she wailed between her nonsensical cries, “C’mon, please!”
