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Authors: Cara Bristol

Tags: #Contemporary Domestic Discipline

Body Politics (8 page)

BOOK: Body Politics
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“Take off your clothes, please. All of them.”

Her eyes flashed with rebellion. “You didn’t remove all

No, she hadn’t yet recognized her inherent submissiveness. He hid his amusement with a neutral expression. “You didn’t ask me to.”


He folded his arms and waited.

She set her lips in a mutinous line but slipped out of the man’s vest and draped it over his leather-and-steel bench. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath. Her silk blouse had no buttons but toggles in loops, and she fumbled as she unhooked them. She shrugged out of the blouse, revealing creamy mounds spilling over a demi-cup bra, her erect brownish pink nipples visible under the transparent lace and nearly popping over the top. Her skin flushed the pale rose of embarrassment.

Her glance skipped off his nose. “What about my boots?”

“Those you can leave on or off, but it might be easier to remove your pants without them.”

Stephanie plopped her soon-to-be-spanked butt on the bench and leaned over to unzip her boots. Her nipples did pop out of her bra then. They were thick, erect, and when not drawn into tight buds, probably surrounded by large areolae. One day soon he would see her on all fours, her breasts swaying with each paddle strike, but her first spanking needed to be over his knee, a body-to-body connection.

She tugged on the lace to cover herself.

“No. Leave it,” he ordered. “It’s coming off soon enough anyway.”

She jutted her jaw but obeyed. Sans shoes, she stood to slip out of her leggings. Her black satin-and-lace thong matched her bra, the frivolous, feminine frippery contrasting starkly with the practical masculine clothing she donned on the outside.

He appreciated the smooth expanse of her statuesque body, her long legs, her toned arms and shoulders, her nipples peeking over the nothing bra. “Take off the rest.”

She freed her magnificent breasts first, then hooked her thumbs into her thong.

“You shave,” he said. He knew from touch her mound was bare, but seeing it presented a visual delight. Nothing would come between them.

“Wax. I swim sometimes. It’s worry free this way.”

Swimming explained her arm and shoulder muscle tone, her mean swing with a paddle. If she had been a Domme, she’d have put a man through his paces for sure.

He ached to touch her, to stroke her breasts, to explore secret crevices, coat his fingers in wetness, but a caress would confuse her. She had to learn the difference between a discipline spanking to be respected and an erotic one to be enjoyed. And he needed to get a grip on his emotions. He hadn’t counted on how stirring her submission would be, on the tenderness it would arouse in him. Context changed everything. He had to remind himself this was a punishment spanking and not an erotic one.

“You need to give me a word,” he said.

She creased her forehead. “A word?”

“A word that means no, a safe word.”

“What’s wrong with ‘no’?”

“No doesn’t always mean no. During a spanking, it’s normal to yell no or stop. No can mean ‘it hurts’ or ‘I don’t like this very much.’ Or ‘No, don’t stop.’ I don’t think you’ll need a safe word. It’s my responsibility to know your tolerance and your limits. But in case, you should have one.”

She planted her hands on her hips, a naked auburn Wonder Woman. “You sound pretty fucking confident there’s going to be more than one spanking.”

“You just earned a couple more swats. I warned you about swearing. What’s your word?”

“Ostrich. What happens if I use it?”

“Then I’ll stop spanking you and evaluate your condition. I might end it, or I might resume it at another time.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “What if I yell ‘ostrich’ just to get you to stop?”

“Then you earn another spanking or other punishment for lying.” Mark sat on the mattress, resting his feet on the bottom step of the platform. He’d chosen this bed style because it worked well for over-the-knee spankings, his preferred position. Anticipation swelled. His heart thudded in his ears. He patted his lap. “Come here, please.”

She moved with such haughty beauty, his breath caught in his throat. After climbing onto the mattress beside him, she stretched herself over his thighs and lowered her body onto his lap. She squirmed, bumping against his erection, then settled into place.
. She fit on his lap like she belonged there, like they’d been doing this for years.

She had a small mole on her back, but otherwise her body was pure, smooth cream. Her hips were womanly, her rounded ass offering a generous spanking surface. He rested his forearm across her lower spine to hold her and serve as a barrier so he didn’t accidentally stray above her buttocks and upper thighs.

He palmed her ass, and she stiffened like a board. Her skin was as cool and smooth as the marble in his condo. He rubbed slow circles and kneaded her cheeks until her skin warmed to his touch. She probably wished he’d spank her and be done with it, but he intended it to be a complete sensory experience. Pain represented only one part of discipline. She needed to connect with him before he burned her behind. As he caressed her, her tension slowly released, until her body went limp. His did the opposite. Every muscle in his body tensed, and his cock was as hard as granite. He’d never wanted a woman more in his life. Stephanie sighed, and her legs slipped farther apart, exposing her swollen, glistening sex. Being over his lap, submitting to him, turned her on. He’d been ninety-nine percent sure that would be the case, but at the sight of the proof, he almost lost it. Before his focus and control diminished further, he squeezed her ass hard enough to hurt and then snapped his palm against her cheek.


STEPHANIE FLINCHED. SHE’D been enjoying having Mark stroke her butt; it had been both relaxing and arousing. She’d spread her legs, hoping he would caress her. When he’d made no move to spank her, she started to think the whole discipline thing had been a put-on.


He stung her ass. She wasn’t prepared for the sharpness—or the loud crack. He smacked her butt cheek dead center. Smack on the other one. She curled her fingers into his bedspread, commanding herself to remain silent. His arm was clamped like a vise over her lower back as he rained slaps upon her rear, the crease beneath her cheeks, the tops of her thighs. She wondered if striking her stung his hand as much as it hurt her ass. With all her heart, she hoped so.

He paused to rub her skin, easing the burn, then, holding her firmly again, he grabbed the paddle. Her ass cheeks and stomach clenched.

The first blow fell, searing skin already tender, and a whimper escaped her compressed lips. She’d thought his hand was unforgiving, but the paddle was worse. She buried her face in the nubby coverlet. With measured strokes, Mark spanked her as if timed by an invisible metronome.
. One, two.
. one, two.

“Tell me why I’m doing this.”

Because you’re a domineering asshole
. She gritted her teeth to keep the words inside.

“Stephanie. I’m not talking to myself. I expect you to answer, or I’ll spank you until you do.”

He struck the crease where her ass met her thigh four times.

“No!” She twisted to avoid the spanks, but he held her fast.

“Answer my question.” Four more strikes to the other side.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
Big girls don’t cry
. “Because I acted rudely to Elizabeth.”

“That’s right. You were disrespectful. To her and to me.” He laid several hard blows to the middle of her cheeks. She’d seen the desire in his eyes; now she felt his disappointment. Surprisingly that bothered her. His opinion shouldn’t matter to her, but it did.

He set the paddle on the bed and massaged her skin, not slowly like he had done before, but briskly. What had soothed now rasped. But somehow comforted. “Why did you act that way?” he asked.

“She tri—” Stephanie broke off to amend her reply. “I felt like she had tricked me. That she should have told me if I went out with you,
would happen.”

Her vocalized feelings sounded childish. A grown woman, she made her own choices. She, not Elizabeth, had opted for punishment—foolishly, perhaps, but she had no one but herself to blame. What occurred between her and Mark was only between them.

“I was wrong,” she admitted.

“Yes, you were.” He resumed paddling. The pain that had receded under his rough caresses returned in full force. She kicked, and he punished her thrashing thighs with several slaps.

Visions of a large, long-necked, small-headed bird indigenous to Africa darted across her mental field of vision. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t weak. She could handle whatever this man dished out. And she had treated a colleague and friend shabbily.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Her ass hurt. A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to speak. “I’m—I’m g-going to apologize to Elizabeth.”


The paddle fell several more times before he paused again. “And this”—he smacked her twice on one cheek, then two more times on the other—“is for swearing.”


MARK DROPPED THE paddle and scooped Stephanie into his arms. He’d expected some anger, resistance, but she curled up against him and buried her face into his neck. Her body trembled, but she didn’t cry.

He caressed her back. “It’s done now.”

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked against his skin.

“I’m not mad at you. I would never discipline you while angry. I will always wait until it passes and my head clears. And now that I’ve spanked you, the matter is put to rest, and I won’t bring it up again.” He tightened his arms around her and rocked. Keeping one arm around her shoulders, he smoothed his other hand down her back to caress her ass cheeks, her thighs, to ease the sting. “What if I’m rude again?”

He smiled against her hair. “Then that’s a new matter.”

She snaked an arm about his waist, another around his neck.

He continued to rub her buttocks, and she purred in pleasure, a sound that echoed in his own soul at having her naked and pliant in his arms. This one perfect moment brought him home where he belonged. Now all he had to do was convince her of the same. In the future he might demand she endure the discomfort with a restriction of “hands off,” but now she needed the physical connection. She’d gone wanting for a long time and was like a sponge, soaking up his attention, affection he was only too willing to give her. He required the contact too. Craved it. He wanted this woman every which way to Sunday. He couldn’t imagine tiring of touching her. Domestic discipline wasn’t about punishment but intimacy and bonding. Spanking—the aspect that had garnered
headlines—represented only one facet of a complex relationship dynamic. The means to an end rather than the end.

Spanking had broken through Stephanie’s defenses. No telling how long it would have taken before she curled up in his arms like a little cat seeking to be stroked and loved.

“You’re not a kitten, are you? You’re a fierce Amazon,” he teased.

She flinched as if he’d struck her with the paddle again. “Don’t call me that!” Rigid, she struggled against his chest. “Let me go.”

“No. Talk to me.” He tightened his embrace to prevent her escape. “Explain why it bothers you.”

“I don’t like it, okay?” She pushed. “Let me go—now, damn you!”

The sudden change in her mood baffled him, and he responded with the only surefire way he knew to get her attention: he smacked her ass twice. “That’s for swearing and for shutting me out.” A lack of communication had contributed to the failure of his marriage. Ronnie hadn’t communicated that her feelings for him had changed until she’d announced she was leaving him.

She glared. “Spanking can’t fix everything.”

“But it can get you to talk to me. To tell me what you’re feeling.”

“It happened a long time ago, and it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters if you can’t bear to talk about it.” He didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to recognize the shield she’d built around herself was a defensive mechanism to avoid hurt.

“It’s stupid. Kids’ stuff.”

“I doubt it’s stupid.”
Talk to me. Let me help you.

She crossed her arms.

“I have nothing else planned for this evening except spending it with you. I can wait all night.”

“I got my growth spurt early.” She twisted her mouth. “I was the tallest kid in my sixth grade class, even taller than my teacher.” She paused, and Mark remained silent, allowing her time. “I also had bigger breasts than my teacher. I was the only girl in middle school who wore a double-D bra.

“We studied mythology in seventh grade and learned about the Amazons, how they supposedly cut off one breast so they could better shoot a bow and arrow. The kids started calling me Amazon, asking when I was going to cut off one of my tits.”

Mark tightened his lips. Bullying led to so many problems later in life. The police department often dealt with the effects. The tormented became the tormentors, sometimes going berserk, striking out at innocent people. “I’m so sorry, Stephanie. Kids are vicious sometimes. They don’t think past the moment.”

She smiled sadly. “I wished it had ended there, but the name followed me to high school. My senior year, there was a guy in my history class I liked.”

He could see where this was going.

“He was cute and friendly. I thought he liked me too.” She took a breath. “I learned the hard way he wanted to fuck an Amazon like the other boys.” Challenge flashed over the hurt in her gaze. “Are you going to spank me now for saying fuck?”

He shook his head. He would have liked to hunt down the bastard and punch him. “No. I’m going to hold you, kiss you, and promise I’ll never call you that.” He cupped her face and brushed a kiss over her mouth. She sighed and parted her lips, but he waited until her tongue tentatively darted out before deepening the intimacy, drawing from her sweetness to feed his need to soothe her.

Finally he lifted his head and toed off his shoes. Taking her with him, he scooted on the bed to rest against the headboard. He settled her so she stretched across his lap, her shoulders supported by his arm. He explored her feminine contours with a freedom the car’s cramped space hadn’t allowed. He delighted in the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, the roundness of her reddened ass, the length of her thigh, the softness of her breasts.

BOOK: Body Politics
9.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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