I stand next to his legs, feeling oddly small and out of place. “I don’t know how to do this,” I say in a rush of words, half begging him to take it easy on me. “I don’t think I can. I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong.”
With a nod, he takes my hand. “Like this, Savannah. You’d lay over my lap like this. It can be hard to take that first step. Let me help you.”
I find myself with my belly across his knees, my legs dangling. I’m not sure why, but I like the way this feels. There’s a sort of warm reassurance over his lap, where I’m vulnerable and exposed. I tremble in anticipation, wondering what it really, truly would be like to be his.
When he rests his hand on my ass, a warm pulse of arousal spreads through me.
“If we were doing this for fun,” he says softly, his handrunning over the curve of my ass, “I’d make good and sure you wereturned on first.” I close my eyes when he encircles my waist and holds me closer to him, just before I feel the back of his hand on my thighs, spreading them. Heat flares across my face and chest when he strokes between my legs. “I might even let you keep your panties on before I made sure you were wet.”
The first stroke of his touch makes me jolt, surprised with the intense flare of pleasure that electrifies my body.
Blood rushes in my ears at the firstslapacross my ass. It stings, but only a little. Warmth floods through me. “Thayer,” I say, because I want him to stop, I’m so embarrassed and nervous.
He ignores me and continues, “We’d start nice and gentle, until you were thoroughly warmed up.” A few light slaps show me what he means. Every spank stings, but only briefly as the bundle of nerves between my legs pulses. My mouth is dry, and I’m so damn aroused I feel like I’m going to combust.
“You’d know that I was the one in charge, but you’d also know you were safe.”
Safe.
The word echoes through my mind like a mantra. I long to know it’s true, that I really am, for the first time in my life, actually safe.
I feel the flat of his palm against my skin, the panties doing little to protect me. Ripples of pleasure pervade my senses.
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 onfire.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.
