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I can’t help but moan as he glides his hand lightly over my skin, and I find I’m trembling in anticipation every time he lifts his palm again. The intensity of it all makes my heart race, and I feel suddenly as if I’m going to cry. I’m not sure why.
I arch my back when he trails his fingers over my panties. My heart gallops.
Okay, so that didn’t take too long for me to realize why people like this.
“But if this wasn’t for fun, we’d have another kind of talk,” he says sharply. My pulse spikes in warning a split second before he tugs my panties down my legs until they dangle from my ankles. “You’d be punished for disobeying me.”
A flare of warning shoots through me.
Seconds later, he gathers my wrists in his hands and secures them at the small of my back. I open my mouth to gasp and feel the sudden inexplicable need to flee when he slams his palm against my ass. I open my mouth to protest in some way but find I can’t breathe. He spanks me again, obviously quite experienced at this, as he holds me in such a way that it’s absolutely impossible for me to get away.
I bend and squirm and try to escape, but there’s no way I can possibly do that. “Thayer!” I gasp. My ass is on fire. This is nothing like I imagined, but I can’t even think anymore because every time I open my mouth to breathe, I can’t think about what I’m going to say.
I find myself tensing in anticipation now, as his palm slams down harder and faster, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. I squirm and try to wriggle off his lap, to escape the next strike, as smacks rain down and the spanking continues.
“If you were mine,” he says through gritted teeth, “I would spank you until you fully submitted to me, until you begged me for forgiveness and promised never to do it again.”
“I’m sorry!” I manage to say. A sense of surrender and remorse floods me.
I’m only aware of him stopping the punishment when I feel his hand come to rest at the small of my back. To my shock, I find my cheeks wet with tears as I release the tension I’ve held onto. I find I’m crying freely now as a flood of emotion sweeps through me.
My skin feels flaming hot and flushed as he gently runs his hand over my ass.
“There,” he says. “Now you know. That’s what I would do if you were mine.” I try to stop my tears, but I find now that I’ve let them go, I have no power to stop them. All the fears I’ve buried surface—fear that I’d be captured by the murderers and tortured, killed needlessly like the lifeless officer who lay on the ground like discarded rubbish. Fear that I’d be abandoned by the only person who ever loved me, now that my sister’s married and will start a family of her own. Fear that I’m not enough, that no number of degrees or accolades or praise will ever make me feel successful or adequate, that I’ll forever be striving.
To prove myself worthy. To finally be safe. To find myself love.
“If you were mine,” he says in a voice I hadn’t heard from him yet, soft and gentle, “I’d hold you when we were done.”
Wordlessly, he turns me over and lifts me. I’m a mess, but he doesn’t seem to care as he tucks me against his shoulder and hands me a tissue.
“I would tell you to let it all out. I would tell you I know that must’ve been hard for you, but you’re so strong.”
A rush of emotions I can’t quite separate floods me, as I let myself go and lean against the strong wall of his chest. I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve been so lonely, so isolated. His arms wrap around me so that I’m completely engulfed, rendering escape impossible. Strength emanates from him. A comfort without strings or expectations, uncomplicated and reassuring.
Is this what it means to be vulnerable?
Is this what it means to be cherished?
Finally, I stop crying. When I hiccup, he reaches for my chin and makes me look at him.
“Feel better?”
I nod.
He bends and leans toward me.
“You can’t kiss me now,” I protest, horrified at the thought of him kissing me now with my tear-stained, reddened face.
“If you were mine,” he says for the hundredth time, the vibration of his voice making me shiver, “you wouldn’t tell me not to kiss you or touch you. Your body would belong to me, Savannah. I would do with it what I wanted and when I wanted. You would know you could trust me. That I would take care of you.”
I nod. “It would be quite an experience being yours, wouldn’t it?” I whisper.
