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“Nothing,Brat. You’re getting your spanking, but you’ll get it my way. Thank me for it.”
No way in hell was she going to thank him for an uneven damned spanking.
He didn’t stop at ten the next time, and he went too fast for her to count. His hand landed harder and harder until she could barely breathe between screams, and when she could take no more she managed to belt out a garbled “Thank you!” He stopped immediately, though she wasn’t sure how he’d understood her because she wasn’t sure she would’ve.
He held her to him and rubbed her back until her sobs stopped, but didn’t say a word. Finally, he said, “You’ll find a hairdryer hanging to the right just inside the bathroom closet. I assume you’ll need a brush and toothbrush from your overnight bag. What else?”
“Just bring the whole thing and I’ll pull out what I need.”
“So, just the brush and toothbrush then.” He stood with her, planted her on her feet, and let go slowly. “You good?”
“No, some asshole just gave me a lopsided spanking!”
“Mmmm.” Bud turned and walked away, and she quickly added, “There’s a little toiletry bag inside, with makeup and stuff. Also, some hair clips and ponytail holders are in the inside pocket.”
He returned with everything she’d asked for, and she thanked him.
“You’re welcome, but what are you thanking me for?”
“My things.”
“Not the spankin’?”
She could see the twinkle in his eye, so she shrugged. “You didn’t seem like the type of guy to half-assed do things, guess I was wrong about you.”
He grinned, Nickie grinned, and then they both cracked up. “Okay, Brat. Get your hair dry. I’m going to step out on the balcony and make a phone call. Come to the bedroom when you’re ready.”
Nickie dried her hair and pulled it into a messy bun on top of her head — ponytails can be a pain when you’re lying flat on your back. No eyeliner or mascara because that shit looks bad when it runs, but a touch of eyeshadow and contouring made her feel a little pulled together.
Bud was wrapping duct tape around alligator clamps when she came into the bedroom, and her nipples shrank to hard pebbles while her clitdemandedattention and her left ass cheek throbbed with the memory of his hand. Every cell in her body pulsed with need. The clamps would be even tighter with all that tape around each side, but they wouldn’t dig into her nipples and make them bleed.
“Cat got your tongue?”
She hadn’t realized she’d frozen in the doorway, and she took a cautious step into the room, her eyes locked on his hands — those deft, strong fingers holding tools to hurt her with.
“Five modified alligator clamps. Nipples, clit, and pussy lips, most likely,” she guessed. “You’ve already told me what you use the electrical cord for, and since I detest loopy johnnies I’m sure I’ll hate it as well, which should make you happy.” Her heart sped and her stomach somersaulted as she immediately understood the best use for the straightened wire clothes hanger and the car antenna, but she didn’t mention them.
“No bondage tonight unless you prove not to have any self-control.”
She sighed, disappointed. “I’ve never been trained like that. I’m not telling you what to do, just making sure you understand I’ve never been expected to hold still on my own. I’m bound and beaten in BDSM clubs, easy-peasy, just stand or lie there and take it because moving away from the pain isn’t possible. I’ve submitted to a few men here and there, and I want to submit to you, but don’t expect me to be all trained and shit.”
She’d also molded and reprogrammed plenty of little slave boys to be what she wanted, and she knew what was involved in the process. She’d never wanted to be trained before, but the idea of Bud taking her in hand and making her his ineveryway had her pulse fluttering and her insides clenching.
“Well then, let’s get started training you.” He pointed to a white sheet of paper on the floor in between his seating area and bed. Nothing special, just a piece of copy paper. Nickie noted he’d moved a chair in the seating area closer to the sofa to give a bigger space, and she figured that meant he intended to use the antenna or coat hanger.
“On the paper and stand on your toes. Hands to the back of your head. Place your feet carefully when you step on. If you step off, if your heels touch the ground, or if you rip the paper, there’ll be consequences. If you rip it, I have more paper and we can try again. Also, if your hands come down, there’ll be consequences. Maybe not right away, but they’ll happen.”
“You can’t hit my hands. I write and type for a living. That’s a hard limit.”
“Noted.” He lifted a doctored alligator clamp. “Where are you supposed to be?”
“On the paper.”
He crossed his arms and they locked gazes until she felt as if she were challenging a wolf for dominance. Nickie never looked away for anyone, but she couldn’t help but drop her gaze for Bud. The memory of the sofa in her office versus the sofa in her bedroom came back to her, and the left side of her ass throbbed while the right side felt nothing. With a sigh, Nickie kept her eyes to the ground and walked to the paper.
“Good girl. As a reward, you can move your hands to the top of your head when your arms get tired. Start with them at the back, though. Lace your fingers and brace them.”
Nickie spread her feet as wide as possible on the paper because she’d need as much help balancing as possible, and went to her toes. She lifted her left foot, resituated it, and when she felt secure she looked up and into Bud’s penetrating, dark emerald-green eyes once again.
She often wrote of men who were so tuned into the woman they loved, they were aware of every emotion, every problem, every joy. Real men weren’t like that though, which was what made the fantasy so perfect. Bud blew that out of the water with his way-too-perceptive eyes.
Nickie looked at his forehead to break the spell, and managed to tell him, “I’m good for a few minutes, but I’m not sure how long I can hold it.”
He walked to her with two of the clamps. “Of course. Fair warning though,if I have to tie you to keep you still, it won’t be comfortable, and you’ll wish with every fiber of your being that you’d dug deeper for self-control.”
