Designed for Submission (Devine Designs) (27 page)

''That's my good girl,'' he said, pleased she had remembered.  She shocked herself by smiling, as if she were actually happy to confess and get her ass spanked.

Logan didn't react, though he was fighting his own smile.  ''Do you have a paddle?'' he asked, and her smile immediately disappeared.

''Um, no … no, Sir,'' she said.

''Do you have a hairbrush, other than that flimsy one in the bathroom?'' he asked, and her cheeks clenched over the pillow.

''No, Sir,'' she answered.  He looked around the room, as if expecting some suitable implement to jump into his hands.

''Well,'' he said with a sigh, ''it seems we have a dilemma.'' Without even thinking about it, Elizabeth rolled off the pillows to sit cross-legged on the bed.  She pulled the top pillow off the pile, hugging it to her, her chin resting on the top as she looked at him.  Logan almost laughed aloud.  Not only had she moved out of position, she looked as if she were seriously concerned that he couldn't find anything to spank her with.

He shook his head.  ''What do you suggest we do?'' he asked.

''You could use your hand, like last night,'' she offered, and seeing his eyebrow lift, she swallowed hard and continued:  ''Ummm, maybe just a little harder?''

''No, I don't think my hand will demonstrate the proper importance of this spanking,'' he said.  ''Think of something else.''

He saw her eyes drop down along his chest to his waist.  Elizabeth wanted to suggest he forget all about this spanking stuff, drop his pants, and join her in bed, but Logan misinterpreted her look.  ''No, Schatzlein,'' he said.  ''You earned a good hard paddling, but you were not naughty enough to earn a whipping.  I only use my belt for far more severe misbehavior.'' She flushed hotly, not even once considering a whipping and now praying she never, ever earned one.

''I don't have my car or else I could get a paddle from my bag.  Or better yet, you could have opened your gift and offered what was inside to me to use,'' he said, and she understood the black duffle in his truck did indeed hold his 'toys'.  ''It would take too long to call a cab, go home, get a paddle and come back,'' he continued, and she just stared at him as it dawned upon her just how seriously he considered all this.  ''Same thing applies to calling Dan and asking him to bring me one.'' She shuddered, picturing Dan knocking on her door and handing some paddle through, knowing exactly who was going to get her ass spanked with it.  Logan picked up the discarded shirt as if to put it on.

''I suppose I can jog over to Jason's,'' he said.  ''I'm sure he has plenty of implements, seeing how his wife is as saucy as you are.''

''Wait!'' she yelled, shocking herself again.  Logan paused, one arm in the shirt.  ''I … maybe I can find something here,'' she suggested.

Logan looked as if he were considering it.  ''I'll give you five minutes,'' he said, ''If you can't find something suitable by then, I'll run down to Jason's.''

She leapt off the bed, tossing the pillow behind her.  He smiled as she flew out of the bedroom.  He heard her opening and slamming doors and cabinets in the bathroom.  He chuckled and went to lean against the doorframe to watch her progress.  Failure in the bathroom caused her to race into her office.  Again he heard sounds of her opening and closing drawers.  It got quiet for just a moment, and he could imagine her considering if one of the flooring samples would do … it would not.

''Three minutes,'' he called out and heard her shriek and saw her sprint out of the office towards the living room, her long hair streaming out behind her.  He moved into the hall but did not follow.  He just wished to hear her searching.  Elizabeth raced through the living room into the kitchen.  She opened doors as if to see some object appear that she wasn't aware she owned.  She dug through her cooking utensils, briefly considered a spatula, but discarded it.  It was heavy aluminum and had holes in it.  She couldn't imagine it being applied to her bottom.

''Two minutes,'' she heard and moaned.  She dug underneath the sink before slamming the doors closed.  She was out of breath when she spotted her bread machine.  Shrieking again, she snatched the heavy breadboard and raced down the hall, running directly into the muscular chest of her Dom.  ''He … here …'' she panted, bent over slightly, as she tried to catch her breath.

Logan hefted the heavy board in his hand and crooked his eyebrow.  ''Sweetheart,'' he said, and she looked up at him.  ''I might use this on some guy if I was into that, but this is way too much for your little ass.''

Elizabeth was torn: pleasure that Logan felt she had a little butt and panic that he would finish dressing, go inform Jason that he had a naughty Sub just waiting for a good spanking, and could he please borrow a paddle.  She grabbed the board and raced back into the kitchen.

''One minute left,'' he called, loving this game and thinking he would definitely send her on various hunts again.  Hearing this board was too heavy had given Elizabeth an idea.  She tossed the board onto the couch as she turned to face the shelves that held her books and various items she had collected.  She stood on her tiptoes and stretched.

''Ten seconds,'' she heard, and she yelled.  ''Logan! Help me!''

Logan raced down the hall, thinking she had hurt herself.  He was almost to the kitchen when she squealed again.  ''I … I can't reach it.'' He whipped around and saw her standing with one foot on the arm of the couch, the other actually on one of the shelves of the bookcase.  She was attempting to reach something that was still several inches over her head.  In three large strides he had his hands around her waist and grabbed her off her perch.  Without a moment's pause, he bent her over his thigh and slapped her bottom hard and fast with the palm of his hand.

''Owww!'' she squealed, as his hand pelted her bottom.  ''Stop! Stop! I … I found it!''

''Don't you ever,'' he said, as he smacked her again, ''Ever, ever do that again!'' His heart was pounding at the thought of her falling and hitting her head on something.  He set her back on her feet.

Her hands flew behind her to rub frantically at her bottom.  ''Owww,'' she said, again.  ''I … I just couldn't …'' She stopped, seeing his face, realizing that she had frightened him.  ''I'm sorry,'' she said.  ''I … I know that was stupid.'' He nodded and relaxed a bit, his heart slowing.

She pointed up and asked, ''Would that work?''

He turned to look where she was pointing.  On the top shelf there was what looked like an old wooden box.  He looked back at her as if she were crazy.  ''This?'' he said, easily reaching up and touching it.

''Yes!'' she said, smiling broadly.

He didn't understand her excitement but shrugged and lifted the box from the shelf.  Feeling its weight, he again thought of it falling on her and shook his head.

She saw the look.  ''I promise I won't ever do that again, I swear!'' she quickly promised.

''Okay,'' he said, believing her.  ''Elizabeth, why in the hell do you think I am going to paddle you with this box?'' he asked, turning to hand it to her.

She giggled and shook her head.  ''It's not a box, Sir,'' she said, as she set it onto the trunk.  ''It's an antique butter mold.''

Logan still had no idea what she was talking about.  Elizabeth looked at him and smiled before lifting the top that covered a smaller base.  ''You would put the butter you churned into here and then take this,'' she said removing a smaller piece from inside the lid, ''and smooth out the butter.  Then you would …''

''Oh, I get it now,'' he interrupted, seeing the small piece was indeed a wooden paddle.  He reached and took it from her.  It was small but it would most definitely work.

''Good job, Schatzlein even if you did make me lose ten years of my life trying to get it down.''

She turned to him and put her hands on her hips.  ''Don't you want to know the rest?'' she asked, as if shocked he didn't want to hear a lecture about colonial butter-making.  He chuckled at the sight of her nude, her hair disheveled, her hands on her hips.

''No, Elizabeth,'' he said.  ''What I want is you in your room, on your bed, your ass over those two pillows,'' he said, and saw her eyes widen.  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, his face buried in his hands, 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.  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.  He stood, took a few deep breaths and then slowly walked down the hall.

Chapter 17

There was no talking 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 and 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.  He laid the small paddle against her bottom and felt her draw in a deep breath and then slowly release it.

He felt her let go of her tension and saw her bottom soften and round.  He lifted the paddle and began.  Elizabeth sucked in her breath as the first swats were delivered.  She hadn't realized 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 bit harder 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 had thought he was swatting her hard before but 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, certain her ass would erupt into flames at any moment.

''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 again against the tender area where her bottom met her thighs.  Elizabeth had never felt anything like the crisp, quick swats as they bit into her sit-spot.  It felt as if a hundred hornets were stinging her simultaneously.

As the paddle continued to punish her sit-spot, she bucked hard.  ''Ahhh ... no … please, Sir, it … 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, realizing that she
had
really 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 knew he was causing her pain:  her red, hot bottom served as a testament to why she'd screamed.  He also knew that pain would be temporary, but if he stopped, the pain in her heart 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, 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.