Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) (12 page)

Exasperated, I
pull in a calm breath and cast my eyes about the room, seeking patience.

“You understand
why you need this, don’t you, Marina?”  He sits up, his skin graying at
the move, but he ignores the pain to reach for my hand.  His fingers twirl
with mine, rubbing, caressing.  He plays with the digits, strokes and tickles
the palm of my hand.  I grab for his and clutch, tightly holding him,
somehow feeling the need for his reassurance.

While I do
understand, at the same time, I don’t.  I lift my free hand and rub my
forehead.  Tension is gathering there and the last thing I need is a
headache.  “I know I don’t behave normally.  I guess this is a way of
correcting how I act.”

“It’s more than
that.”  He gentles the grip I have on his hand by pulling away and then
placing his on top of mine.  “You need this, Marina.  You might think
I’m lying to you about being submissive, but I’ve no need to lie.  The
first day I met you, I recognized it in you just as you did with me. 
We’re each other’s opposite. 

“It’s unfortunate
that I’ve had to introduce you to the real you in these circumstances. 
But without the shooting, I don’t think you’d have ever listened to yourself or
me.  Now, I’m forcing you to do that.  To hear when your body talks
to you and to accept what your soul craves.”

Lowering my head,
I swallow and stare down at our joined hands.  The physical connection,
his on top of mine, a reminder of his dominance over me even in that tiniest of
gestures.  I’m surrounded by him, every part of me and even though I’ve
never wanted it before, suddenly I do.

His words are almost
flowery.  Once upon a time, I’d have mocked him for them, now, he’s
speaking to my heart and that organ is listening, soaking them up like a
sponge.

“I’m confused,” I
whisper.

“Of course, you
are.  It’s only natural.”  His easy acceptance has me nodding with
relief.  “You’re scared, overwhelmed, wondering if I’m somehow making you
believe this about yourself; conning you...  This morning, after you were
disciplined, you needed release.  Your body told you something there,
Marina, don’t ignore it.  Pleasure isn’t a part of your punishment
though.  I don’t want you to climax after a spanking; I want you to learn
a lesson.  But your arousal is telling and for the moment, until you’re
comfortable with this situation, I’ll make your pleasure known to you.  Remind
you that you as a person need whatever discipline I’m doling out and that your
body craves it too. ”

“I don’t want to
be turned on by this,” I mutter, pulling my hand away from his. 

“No, but you
are.  It’s
who you are
, Marina.  You can’t fight it or hide
from it.”

The
fait
accompli
has me feeling uncomfortably flushed with heat, because I know
he’s right.  I look away and mutter, “Your doctor’s appointment is in five
minutes.”

“I know.  You
can share my consultation.”

I grimace at
him.  “I’m sure he can spare five minutes after you’ve been looked
at.  Christ, there’s nothing wrong with me anyway.”

“No, but you’re
doing this to please me and ultimately, yourself.” 

How can I argue
with that?   

“Son of a bitch,”
I spit, slamming my hand against the bathroom door.

“I heard that!”

Jerking the door
open, I glare at him.  “What did you hear?  My using the toilet?”

“You just lied to
me.  What’s that?  The eighth infraction?”  His cool tone has me
pouting.

“Stop saying
infraction.  It’s like talking to a lawyer.”

“Answer the
question.”

“No.  It’s
the ninth,” I mutter around a sigh.  

He looks pleased
at my honesty.  I’m starting to feel like a puppy whose owners are
grateful I’m finally house-trained.  “How many spanks is that?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Think you can
handle that many?”

“I don’t think I
have a choice, Nate.”

“Good
answer.”  He smiles at me.

I’m learning to
distrust his smiles.

The utterance of
two expletives, a direct display of disobedience when Mark, one of the doctors,
tried to pencil me in for an abdominal ultrasound in the morning and I tried to
walk out of the clinic, another curse and then that lie about using the
toilet... my punishments are stacking up.

Fuck a duck, life
is a minefield.

And apparently, I
have an ulcer to just add a cherry to the top of the cake!  Yay!

“I knew you’d lost
weight.”

“Not that much.”

“Not
that
much? 
Are you being serious?  You’re BMI is way too low.”  He studies me as
he takes a seat in his armchair.  The strain about his mouth pulls at me
more than the fact I’ve lost ten pounds since the last time I stood on a pair
of scales at my gym five weeks ago. 

When the doctor
asked me how much I weighed beforehand, I was tempted to lie.  I
know
I’ve
lost weight but it’s never a problem.  I’ll gradually regain it, it just
takes time.  Only the fact I have this weird feeling Nate would know I was
lying had stopped me.  Those ten pounds were now Nate’s goal.  I have
a nasty feeling eating is going to become a rule.

And ‘lo and
behold, I’m not wrong.

“Whatever I put in
front of you, you have to eat at least three-quarters of the plate.  And
if I’m not here, I want you to send me a picture of your plate, when you’ve
finished.  I can’t trust you to see to your own portions.”  He shakes
his head and closes his eyes.  “You’re a hell of a lot of responsibility,
Marina.”

Somehow, that
statement combined with his weariness has me doing something I could never have
imagined myself doing.  Silently, I sweep across the room, kneel before
him like I’d done hours before and I press my head to his knee.

Keeping my eyes on
him, I feel him jump in surprise at my move, but I watch as his hand moves to
come and stroke through my hair.  The gentle touch makes my scalp tingle
and I turn my head to press a kiss to his palm as it brushes down from root to
tip of my shoulder-length bob.

“That wasn’t a
complaint, honey.  Just a statement.  You really aren’t used to
looking after yourself, are you?  I noticed in the hospital you were
popping those pills like they were jellybeans.  How long have you been
doing that for?”

“Not long.” 
The lie pops out before I can restrain it.  I jerk away from him, look
down at the floor and whisper, “I’m sorry, that just came out.”

He’s right when he
says lies come too easily to me.

“Ten?” he asks,
voice soft and I nod, accepting the punishment for lying.

“Yes.”  Then
I tell him the truth.  “For about eight months.  It started when the
Russians contacted me, but it wasn’t too bad at first.  Then after about
eight weeks, it was... difficult.”  Talk about understatement.  It
had been nigh on impossible running Papillon as though nothing was going on in
the background. 

How I managed to
court them for so long without the situation deteriorating far earlier is a
testament to how good a liar I am.

Lies have saved my
butt way too often.  It’s why remaining truthful with Nate is quite
hard.  I’m used to evasion, white lies and downright manipulating the
truth for my own gain. 

“Christ.”  He
reaches for my chin and slowly changes the angle of my neck, so I’m no longer
staring down at the floor but looking at him.  “If you have an ulcer like
Mark says, you’ll probably need medication.  Can I trust you to take it?”

I’d like to tell
him that of course, I would.  I’m not an idiot, but twice I tried to get
out of the doctor’s surgery before he’d finished talking to me.  I hate
doctors.  Have done since Jimmy and probably always will.  I prefer a
root canal to a routine checkup!

“Yes, Nate.”

“Good.”  He
sighs.  “Stand up and take off your clothes.”

“What?” I ask, startled
by the jump of subject.

“Are you defying
me?”

“No!”

“Then stand up and
take off your clothes.”

I hesitate for two
seconds; the sound of the clock’s second hand moves twice before Nate says,
“Right, eleven.  That makes thirty-three swats.  Stand up and take
off your clothes within thirty seconds or it’ll be thirty-six.”

From soft and
tender to disciplinarian, the change has me jumping up to obey his barked
order.  In pants and a shirt, there isn’t much to take off and his bark
has me stripping with no elegance; just a sheer haste to get naked. 

I stand there in
bra and panties, feeling vulnerable for some strange reason when he’s seen me
naked more often than he’s seen me dressed!  Then, when he raises his
brow, I slip out of my underwear and hover before him, completely nude.

“Beautiful.” 
His murmur has me flushing with pleasure, because while Nate has bestowed many
compliments upon me, this feels like the first.  Apparently, it’s a day
for those.

I’ve never been
comfortable being in the nude.  Since childhood, I’ve been a
beanpole.  All lanky limbs and no padding.  Feeling skeletal isn’t a
sexy frame of mind and now, with Nate’s warnings about my weight loss, I’m not
exactly at my best.

That one word
makes all the difference.  And it’s that power that disturbs me.

Sucking in a
breath, I smile at him and watch as he leans forward to tug at the sparse pubic
hair on my mons.  I’m very neat down there, but he whispers, “That will
have to go.”  His eyes catch mine.  “You’ll be softer than silk when
you’re bare.  You can book an appointment at the beautician’s or I
can.  We’ll go tomorrow.”

I want to squeak
out
we
?  But I merely nod and try not to feel too aroused at the
idea of
why
he wants me to be softer than silk.  The idea of oral
sex, at this particular moment, has my left eye twitching.  The need to
cum has barreled from out of nowhere.  This morning’s lies killed any
arousal but it’s back.  And with a vengeance.

His hand slips
down between my legs and his thumb runs down the central seam of the outer lips
of my pussy.  Not caressing, just touching and then he stops at the
entrance to my body and hooks his thumb inside.  I quiver, there’s no
other word to describe it.  My pussy gushes moisture and he flickers his
thumb back and forth before retreating and sliding the digit from clit to
slit.  Every nudge of my clit, every flicker and every stroke has me
feeling tauter than a bow on the brink of releasing an arrow.  I’m the
arrow and fuck, I want to fly.  He’s the bow and he’s intent on
restraining me.

Only the knowledge
I’m about to endure thirty-three spanks stops me from pleading with him to let
me cum.  As it is, my body acts of its own accord by jerking my hips
forward into his touch.  His chuckle is soft, but deadly.

“Naughty girls
don’t get presents.”

There’s that word
again.

Naughty.

I bite my lip and
try not to moan as need overtakes me, barraging me with its overwhelming
power.  My mind drifts, switching from thoughts of needing to climax and
then, the idea of being punished.

The latter takes
precedence and I hold my tongue.

“Yes, Nate.”

“Bend over my knee
like you did this morning.” 

He settles back in
the armchair.  I wait for him to get comfortable and move over to the
armrest and press my hands on the opposite one.  In a mock press-up, I
lower myself down, trying to keep my weight away from him until it’s dispersed
only on his lap and I can do no damage to the freshly dressed wounds.

There’s a slight
infection in one of them.  He’s probably not strong enough for all of
this, but there’s no point in arguing.  He’ll do what he wants anyway.

Men.

Pressing my face
into the padded armrest, I don’t have to wait long for him to act. 

“Don’t forget to
count.  This time, if you forget, we’ll go back to the beginning.”

The first spank
comes as a shock. 

When I pulled down
my trousers and panties, there was a tenderness to my behind that didn’t come
as a surprise.  But even the firm if not forceful tap has my skin
protesting as I stutter out the number. 

When the second
one arrives and I state the number, I blow out a breath, thankful that he’s
being gentle.  Then it starts.

Gradually, his
hand hits harder, the force increases until the sparse flesh on my butt starts
to jiggle and the spanks of this morning feel like a walk in the park. 
Twice, by the time we reach sixteen, I almost forget to say the number aloud
but remember just in time.  Halfway there, tears are stinging my eyes and
I cannot help it, cries start to explode out of me.  My hand is shaking
with the need to reach back and comfort my poor behind, I don’t know how I’m
keeping it in front of me and doing as he bade me this morning.

“Seventeen,” I
stutter out, hurting my head with the force of pressing it against the
armrest.  The tears escape, drenching the cushion underneath me.  The
cleansing release has me sobbing with its gentle fury.

“Twenty,” I cry
and this time, the chapped flesh of my ass is screaming. 

At twenty-five, I
let out a yell.  Thirty has my hips lifting away and praying for the final
three.  Then, it happens.  At thirty-two, so close yet so fucking
far, the force of withholding a screech has me forgetting to state the number.

The sobs really do
start then, when I realize what I’ve done.  On his lap, naked while he’s
fully dressed, I begin to sob.  My ass is sore.  I thought it had
been sore before, but that was nothing compared to this.  It hurts. 
There’s pain.  There will be bruises, it will be red, and my butt, unused
to anything nastier than too many squats, is protesting mightily.  In
fact, the pain receptors in the tender flesh are weeping, dying a slow death.

My inhalations and
exhalations are like miniature tornadoes.  In between sobs and gasps, I
stutter out, “No, Nate.  Please.  I’ll do anything.  Not
more.  No more.  I can’t.  I can’t.  Please.  Please!”

I’m on the brink
of hyperventilation.  The idea of thirty-three more spanks seems akin to a
thousand.  Of that force?  Maybe that’s the normal strength.  I
don’t even think he was putting his all into it, but the stinging.  Oh, fuck,
the sting.

And as I lie
there, thinking about the burn, the ache, the discomfort, I feel a tiny trickle
of moisture down my inner thigh.  NO!  I want to screech.  This
can’t turn me on.  This can’t be happening.  I cannot be aroused by
this
pain. 
But almost as though our minds are as one, Nate’s hand
slides down between my legs and gathers the liquid on his fingers.  Within
seconds, they’re drenched and he begins to rub my clit.  The slickness
combined with my already aroused state has the tiny nub almost vibrating with need. 
My sobs turn to pants, my eyes are still teary, tracks of moisture line my face
and hiccups escape me as I rock my hips, riding his hand like a brazen
whore.  Wanting to cum, needing it.  Embracing the idea that he’s
going to give it to me.

His hand is
working me fast, and it’s fast I need but then he starts to slow down and my
tears of anguish start again, because deep inside, I’m bubbling like a
volcano.  It’s going to happen whether he likes it or not.  And I
can’t help it, can’t control it.  Something inside of me has given
way.  The pain did something, released it into the atmosphere and now...
I’m a helpless captive to its thrall.

He leans down to
murmur in my ear, but the position’s awkward for him and even in my frazzled
state, I know enough to lift myself up to reach him.  His pain is my
pain.  I deserve this for the agony he’s in and somehow that has me
sucking in a breath and striving for strength.

“Do you want to
cum, Marina?” he asks as his fingers tangle with my pussy lips.  Rubbing
the stretchy skin and playing with it.

“Please,
Nate.  Yes, Nate.”  My gushing words are almost embarrassing, but
humiliation went out of the window a long while ago.

“But what about
your punishment.”

“I didn’t mean
to,” I chant.  “It hurt, it hurt
so
badly.  I, the pain, it...
I couldn’t think.”