Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) (7 page)

“Yes,” I
hiss.  “I understand, dammit.”

“And no
cursing.  Cursing is for big girls and you’re nothing more than a spoilt
brat.”

That’s it, my eyes
literally cross and not in a way I’m used to with Nate.  How the fuck am I
supposed to live by those rules?  Freedom beckons in the shape of a future
without Nate.  I want to walk away, I really do, but something inside me
is demanding I listen and take note.  I pull in a breath and stop scowling
at the ceiling.  I try to regulate my breathing, because it’s telling him
without words of my struggle.

“Good. 
You’ll control yourself and comport yourself in a manner that fits your
station.  We might know you’re a brat, but the rest of the commune doesn’t
need to know that.  We’ll add to this list of rules as we go along. 
But they’re enough for a start.  If I find you disobeying them, then you
get disciplined and I decide how, where, and when. 

“Four times tonight
you’ve failed to comply when I’ve asked something of you.  You didn’t come
when I called you back to the living room, you went to your suite and not mine
even though on the plane, I said we were still together and I doubt you’ll have
forgotten that I wanted you in my rooms and not your own.   You took
longer than two minutes to get here and you entered the bedroom after the light
had been switched off. 

“On top of that,
you lied to me, you touched me without my permission and then, you masturbated. 
Your pussy is mine, nobody else’s, not even your own. 

“You don’t touch
it without my say-so, but I’m not totally unreasonable.  You weren’t aware
of the extent of the rules so you can’t be punished for them, but now they’re
out in the open, you’re to follow them.

“Ordinarily, I’d
discipline you now.  But I’m tired.  I wasn’t lying.  Somebody
got me shot and I’m in pain, I need to sleep.  So first thing in the
morning, you’ll be ready to accept your punishment.”  He leans over me
again, even though I can hear the wheeze in his voice that speaks of his
discomfort at the position.  He grabs me by the chin and while it’s
impossible to see his face in the dark, I know that we’re staring each other
directly in the eye.  “Won’t you, Marina?”

“Yes, Nate. 
I will.”  The meekness of my voice astounds the pair of us. I turn my head
away, ashamed at how low I’ve sunk but at the same time, I’ve taken a step
toward a future with Nate.  How can I be ashamed of that?

And maybe, just
maybe, something deep inside me needs this.

I want to decry
that thought process, want to mock it, but I can’t.  I don’t know what it
is or why, but Nate has planted some questions in my brain and only as he
disciplines me, will I get the answers.

It’s like he said,
we’ll soon find out if I’m a sub or not.

The morning
beckons and God help me, I’m not dreading it like any normal person
should.  That in itself is a death knell.  Okay, maybe that’s a
little gloomy, but Christ, how can this part of me have stayed hidden away for
so long?  Surely, I’m no sub.  

That the facts
tell me differently have me closing my eyes and praying for sleep to
come.  With arousal burning a hole in my belly, with need pouring through
my veins, rest is going to be a long time coming.

****

In the warmth of
the mussed up sheets, I stretch and unravel my body.  Wriggling my feet
and toes, calves and legs, I fidget my way back to wakefulness.  With my
arms overhead, I give another tug and pull of sleeping muscles and with a long,
pleasurable grunt I wiggle again.

Only with every
part of me back in full working order does a thought occur to me.

Punishment.

I bite my lip at
the thought and wonder if Nate remembers what happened last night. 
Ordinarily, the man has the memory of an elephant.  But on the pain meds,
he’s different.  Woozy. 

At the hospital,
he wouldn’t speak unless I was out of the room, so I made it a custom to leave
whenever a doctor came in to talk to him.  That didn’t stop me listening
in at the keyhole though.  Knowing who I was and why, the nurses let me
get away with it even though it was against the rules.  I must be
infectious.  Wherever I go, people tend to bend the rules for me.  Is
it any wonder I’m so naughty?

The word sends a
thrill shooting down my spine. 
Naughty
.  Is that what I
am?  Biting my lip, I turn my head to the side but know without looking
Nate’s not in bed with me.  Curling upright, I jump when I see him sat on
a chair in the corner of the room. 

The idea of him
watching me as I slept and the cool look he has in his eye has me tingling with
nerves.  Had it not been Nate, I’d have screamed blue murder.  But
then, who the hell else would be in a bedroom with me if it weren’t Nate?

“Morning,” I
murmur, hoping to break the ice.

His eyes narrow to
thin, chilly slivers.  He settles back into his seat, a wide armchair
tucked catty-corner against the wall.  This room has obviously been
redecorated.  There’s not a whiff of pine and if I’m honest, nosing the
interior decoration is less stomach churning than Nate’s silent stare.

The bed is a large
four-poster, complete with canopy and curtains.  Not something I’d imagine
of Nate, but neither would I have considered him a Dom!  Shows how much I
know of the man!

Dismissing the
painful thought, I return to my study of Nate’s private quarters.  The
carved tiger maple structure consists of four cones that reach the width of a
finger at the top, at which point they branch off to create a rectangular
frame.  A heavy green and blue plaid acts as a canopy and falls into neat
drapes.  The bedcovers match but the armchair is a dark beige as are the
rugs on the floor.  A matching tiger maple dresser and full-length mirror
on a pivot make up the rest of the room. 

It’s quite bare
and plain, but elegant all the same.  I’d expected no less of Nate. 
He’s very neat, very tidy.  I wonder if his office is as pristine and then
chide myself for even doubting it.

“What are we doing
today?” I ask, having made my visual explorations of the room, I find I’d like
to move on.  Change the subject and somehow make Nate forget my supposed
four infractions of the rules I broke last night.

God of pain
medication, please be on my side!

“Mostly, we’re
going to be reintroducing you to the ranch.”

“Okay.”

My one word answer
has him cocking a brow my way.  “What happened last night?”

I can’t tell from
his answer if the drugs have given him temporary amnesia or if he’s testing
me.  Choosing an innocent reply, I tell him, “We made up.”

His lips twitch
but his eyes remain cool.  I hate this coldness; hate the frost that’s
developed between us.  I know I’m a bitch; I know it and for most of my
life, have embraced it.  I’m not an easy woman to like or love; in fact,
I’m a very hard woman to know.  Despite that, I have two friends who are
more like sisters to me and they feel the same way about me.  All of my
girls at Papillon, each of them, loved me and respected me for helping them and
protecting them as well as simply being there for them, when the rest of the
world thought they were scum. 

Nate is persistent
in his desire to think ill of my business, but I saw it as a way to protect
women who had been abused and who had no other resources available to
them.  I can’t be ashamed of that.  I’m not a bad person, just a
product of a lonely environment.  Maybe this, maybe Nate’s resolve will
change all that.  He said he had feelings for me.  ‘
Feelings that
couldn’t be erased
’ were his actual words if I remember rightly.  I
want him to love me.  I need that like I need air to breathe.

“How did we make
up?”  His cocked brow lifts a little higher.  “Did we kiss it all
better?”

His stare, so
aggressive and forceful, has my eyes lowering to the plaid comforter.  Do
I start this journey on a lie?  Or do I try to do right by him, when I’ve
done nothing but wrong throughout the length of our relationship. 

If Nate really is
a Dom, then I haven’t been satisfying him anyway.  How could I have been,
when this, the true part of his nature, couldn’t come out to play?  That
for four years he wasn’t satisfied by me has me cringing inside.  Why did he
hide it from me?  If he thought I was a sub, why didn’t he discuss this
earlier…

Probably because
I’d have immediately rejected it. 

These last six
weeks have humbled me, forced me to realize that I’m human like everyone else,
not a powerful, omnipotent being.  My arrogance was a shield that
prevented him from divulging the truth to me.  His keeping this part of
himself a secret tells me his affection for me is as all-encompassing as mine
is for him.  This is a chance for both of us to be our real selves. 
Whatever that might be.

“I agreed to your
suggestion.”

“And what
suggestion was that?”

I can tell he’s
amused at my diplomatic responses. 
He was waiting for me to lie
. 
Instead, he can see I’ve remembered the rules.  He’s asking me questions
and I’m answering them.  I’m doing nothing wrong, just not giving him the
answers he wants to hear.

“You believe I’m
in need of discipline,” I eventually murmur, lifting my eyes to connect with
his.

He’s pleased by my
response.  I can tell, because his eyes are no longer Arctic-cold, maybe
Britain in winter.  “And what do you think, Marina?  Do you believe
you need to be disciplined?”

Bastard
.

I want to screech
the word at him and from his knowing look, he can clearly see that.  How I
hold it in, I don’t know but I manage.  Just. 

Sucking in a sharp
breath, I mutter, “I am capable of doing harm and hurting other people.  I
don’t mean to, it just happens.  If I’d been taught differently as a
child, perhaps I wouldn’t be the way I am today.  I think, with
discipline, I might start to behave more...”  The word eludes me and I
bite my lip, wondering what to say.  It’s hard, because I’m not really
sure I want to change, but something’s got to give.  And it has to be
me.  I’m a troublemaker.  “Like a regular person.”

“Well, I’m not
sure I’d want you to be ‘regular’.”  He uses air quotes over my chosen
adjective.  “Just a little moderation.”  Nate looks at me for a
second and I can tell he’s pleased by what I’ve said.  “Come and sit here
with me.”

For a second, I
hesitate and then pull the covers out of the way and go to him.  About to
perch on his knee, he shakes his head.

“Kneel before me,
Marina.”

Kneel?
 Oh fuck, can I do this?  I mean, seriously?

My legs refuse and
I stand there, shivering even though the room is an ambient temperature. 
I try to get my brain to force my limbs to work and eventually succeed,
although my slide to the ground is anything but gracious.  More like a
tumble! 

“Well done.”

I need those
congratulations.  Somehow, his command made it all so real.  And I
guess this is it.  It’s starting. 

Looking up at him,
I smile.  It’s quivery and weak, not my usual strident, confident grin but
it’s better than a grimace.

“You understand
why this has to be done, Marina.  You’ve hidden this part of your nature
for far too long.  It’s buried deep down, so deep you don’t even realize
it exists.  And maybe, for anyone else, it doesn’t.  But you can do
this, Marina.  You can liberate that part of your nature.  I
can’t.  I can help. 

“You’re kneeling
before me and you’re thinking I’m in control.  You give me that
power.  Only you.  When you came to this bedroom last night and
didn’t go back to yours when I told you to, you made the decision.  You
handed control to me.  But it’s only there for as long as you want to gift
it.  It’s time to choose a safe word.”

I won’t lie. 
My stomach feels as though a hard band is wrapped around it.  It’s hard to
breathe, hard to focus.  Am I really doing this?  He says it’s there,
buried deep down.  Is it?  I don’t know.  Will it do any harm to
experiment? 

My lips tremble as
I whisper, “Papillon.”

“Your brothel?”

I shrug. 
“It’s a word, isn’t it?”

He nods. 
“Very well.  How many times did you misbehave last night?”

Nate doesn’t have
to tell me to be honest.  Sat in the chair, legs slightly spread, back
against the rest, he looks both relaxed, yet totally in control.  His face
is lined with pain, pain I caused but otherwise, he’s as handsome as
ever.  Something about him has always set my body to quivering.  With
his disability, many might think him a lesser man.  To me, I don’t even
see the missing limb.  He’s everything. 

Power.
 Glory.  Grace. 

Could be he’s
right.  Around him, I do feel different.  Like a woman.  Not a
twenty-first century go-getter.  Out to prove that she can do everything a
guy can, but better.  Out to unman every poor male in a hundred mile
perimeter.  Willing to shove a broom up my ass and sweep the floor as I
control every aspect of my world.