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“Good job,schatzlein, even if you did make me lose ten years of my life trying to get it down. It’s small but will do the trick.”
She turned to him and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you want to know the rest?” she asked, standing nude with her hands and her hips and her hair disheveled from the frantic dash through the apartment.
“The rest?”
“About how to make butter,” she clarified.
“No, Elizabeth,” he said with a chuckle. “What I want is you in your room, on your bed, your ass over those two pillows,” he said. He paused for a heartbeat before speaking his final word, “Now.”
She fled down the hall, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floors. Logan dropped onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. This time he was the one attempting to stifle sounds as he burst out laughing. He had been in many different situations with many different submissives waiting to be disciplined, but God, never before had it included a scavenger hunt and a small scrap of a woman feeling so triumphant in producing her own antique butter paddle to use on her ass. He stayed on the couch until he had himself under control. He might love the little minx, but he still had to paddle her ass for disobedience and laughing while doing so would probably spoil the message. He stood, took a few deep breaths and then slowly walked down the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There was no talking and definitely no giggles when he entered her bedroom the second time. She had confessed her infractions and he had expressed that she was to be paddled. He walked to the bed where she was once again over the pillows, her bottom lifted. Logan stepped closer, put one knee on the bed and placed his left hand on the small of her back.
His heart swelled when she reached back, her hand opening, her silent plea instantly understood. He offered her his hand and once their fingers were linked, he pressed their joined hands back to the small of her back. Considering the fact her skin was pinkened from the swats she’d received for climbing the shelves like some demented spider monkey, he decided to forego a warmup. When he laid the small paddle against her bottom, Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and then slowly released it, her bottom softening and rounding with the release of tension.
Logan lifted the paddle and began. Elizabeth sucked in her breath as the first swats were delivered. He knew she hadn’t given any thought to how much the little paddle would truly sting. After a dozen swats, she began to squirm a bit, but Logan simply pressed their joined hands a little more firmly into her back, stilling her movements.
The second dozen was applied, and she began to whimper, her eyes filling as the burn increased. Logan was paddling her steadily, his swats delivered in a regular tempo. When he changed his rhythm, applying a few fast swats and then delivering the next few at a slower rate, Elizabeth began to moan. Logan knew she was no stranger to the paddle and yet he instinctively knew she also had not truly been punished by one. By the time he allowed her up, she would know beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly what a paddling for discipline meant.
“Relax your bottom, Elizabeth,” Logan said, after another round. “I want you to submit to your discipline and accept it as the lesson it is.” She moaned, but when he smacked the paddle into the tender area where her bottom met her thighs, she cried out sharply but then forced herself to do as he ordered. Logan waited until her bottom was once more loose and relaxed.
“Good girl,” he said. “You are doing well, Elizabeth.” He began to paddle her with much more force. Elizabeth might have thought he was swatting her hard before but quickly discovered those were simply taps. As he covered every inch of her bottom with the paddle, she began to kick up her legs, squirming despite his hold.
“Pl-please… please, no… no more,” she begged.
“We are not done here; in fact, we’ve barely begun,” he said, knowing he was only now beginning to breach her determination to remain silent. He continued, the swats turning her bottom a deeper red with every round. He moved the paddle to swat against the tender area where her bottom met her thighs. Logan bit into the flesh with crisp, quick swats, directing each one to a new area. He could practically hear the buzz of a hundred hornets descending to sting her simultaneously.
As the paddle continued to punish her sit-spot, she bucked hard. “Ahhh! No, please, Sir, it hurts!” she cried, and then finally threw her head back and shrieked as he laid the paddle hard and fast onto the very same spot six times in a row. The burn was intensified a hundred-fold before he moved to a spot adjacent to the one he had just punished and repeated the pattern. She arched and wiggled, begging him to stop. “No! It burns… it’s too much!” she screamed, and then, as if realizing that shehadreally screamed, she froze for a moment.
Logan knew if he stopped she would believe he thought she was involved in something depraved, something to be ashamed of. He had no doubt he was causing her pain. Her red, hot bottom served as a testament to why she’d screamed. He also understood that pain would be temporary, but if he stopped, the pain in her soul might never heal. He steeled himself and continued, moving the paddle to smack against the backs of her thighs. She immediately bucked, her frozen limbs again struggling to accept what she needed, and craved, deep inside.
“This is punishment, Elizabeth,” Logan said firmly. “It is supposed to hurt. It is supposed to burn. It would be rather pointless and a total waste of time if I thought you considered this anything less than it is.” He paddled another spot. “This is discipline, and, young lady, this is what you can anticipate every time you are insolent.” He paused to let his words sink in as he moved to the next spot, and then the next. “Or disrespectful, snotty, or just plain naughty.” Through it all, he kept spanking, and then ended the paddling with a flurry of quick, hard swats all across her bottom until she was limp over the pillows, sobbing freely, finally submitting completely.
Logan tossed the paddle onto the bed and pulled her off the pillows and into his arms. She clung to him, her tears running down her face, her sobs echoing in the room. She wailed as he lifted her and put her on his lap, her hot bottom contacting the fabric of his pants. He put one hand on the back of her head, pressing her into him as he gently rocked her in his arms. His heart hated to see her in pain, but he knew this was exactly what she needed.
She cried as if she had been beaten instead of just paddled, and he knew the walls inside her were beginning to crack. He prayed they would one day disappear. He didn’t speak, but held her, letting her know she was safe. Her sobs began to quiet, though it was another several minutes before she was only sniffling and hiccupping. He slowly stroked his hand down the length of her hair, soothing her with each pass.
Liz finally took several deep breaths and relaxed into him. She turned her head from his chest to look up at him. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “Thank you, Sir.”
Logan bent and kissed her gently, seeing fresh tears welling but knew they were from relief and release of tension. “It’s over,schatzlein,” he said. “You did very well, and I’m so very proud of you for letting me hear.”
“May I go clean up?”
He nodded and let her off his lap. She walked toward the door, and he stood and gently took her arm before she stepped through. “I’d like you to wear this,” he said, handing her his shirt. “When you are ready, we can talk.”
She took the shirt and nodded, fresh tears threatening to fall. She went into the bathroom and closed the door.
At the sounds of renewed sobbing, Logan immediately tried to open the door but she was evidently leaning against it. “Elizabeth, move away… let me in,” he said. He was prepared to break the door down, but the resistance disappeared. He pushed the door open and saw her at the sink, the shirt dangling from her fingers. She looked up and seemed so incredibly small and lost.
“Oh,schatzlein,” he said, and had her back in his arms, her own around his neck, as she continued to cry. Logan held her tight, hating that he had let her go so quickly. She had realized that she had allowed him to hear, and though he’d tried to make suresheknew he treasured that gift, it was affecting her on such a deeper level that he truly hadn’t been prepared. He kept her close as he quickly filled the tub and as he struggled out of his pants, using only one hand, her arms refusing to release him. Before the tub was even nearly full, he stepped in and sank down, her body curled on his lap, her head against his heart.
He kept murmuring soothing, nonsense words as the tub filled. He turned off the water and leaned against the back of the tub, holding her close. The water began to cool before she seemed to become aware of her surroundings. She opened her eyes and sighed deeply, her entire body stiff from the tension of her morning.
He smiled down at her when she lifted her eyes. Her lips trembled but she gradually returned the smile. “Better?” he asked, bending down to kiss her forehead. She sighed again, nodding.
“Thank you,” she said, “for everything.”
