The Three Rs (22 page)

I chew my lip thoughtfully as he waits for my response. He doesn’t rush me, and I’m glad of that. I need these moments to process, to adjust and accept. And eventually, when I’m ready, I meet his gaze again.

“Will you be naked too?”

“No.”

“I see. How many spanks?”

“Ten. But hard.”

“Ten. Yes. But I prefer to lie across your lap.”

“The desk, Miss Fischer.” His gaze is unwavering, and his attitude uncompromising.

He’s in charge, his call. My pussy clenches in enthusiastic response.

“Very well.” I turn to reach for the door handle, then suddenly think of a problem. A big problem. “I’ll need to be able to see the sign. If I’m inside…”

“I’m sure you’ll manage very well from memory, Miss Fischer. But just in case, there’s another one inside. A plaque on the wall.”

At his prompt I remember seeing the plaque yesterday, sporting the same red and gold lettering as on the side of the van. And I know I can do this. I nod then open the van door.

I follow Cain into the building, then stand beside him as he disables the alarm. My clothes and shoes are bundled in my arms, and I deposit those on Phyllis’ desk for now. My own desk will be required for other matters. The alarm sorted out, the outer door now closed, Cain leans on the door frame to watch me. The plaque is beside him, fastened to the wall.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Fischer.” He steps forward to hand me my bag which he very kindly carried in for me from the van as my hands were full. I extricate the pad and turn to the correct page, glancing at the drawing of the JCB and at the space in the picture where Cain wants his sign to go. I lay the sketchpad on the desk.

“Just here?” I point to the spot in the foreground.

He simply nods, leaning back to watch me, his arms folded.

I don’t require any further instructions—the process now is clear and simple enough. I stand and remove my jacket. I hang that over the back of my chair, and pull off my T-shirt. My bra follows quickly. Naked, I obligingly stand still for a few moments. I know he’ll want to look at me. He runs his eyes up and down my body before making a circling motion with his finger. Obedient, I turn around.

“Bend over, Abbie. Show me your pussy.”

The fierce clenching in my lower body forces me to hesitate for a couple of seconds before I lean forward to do as he’s said. I struggle to remain still as he continues to study me from his vantage point by the door.

“Hold onto the chair if you need to steady yourself. Open your legs wide for me.”

I do it, grateful for the stability offered by the sturdy chair as I spread my legs for his examination.

“You’re still very wet. And very pink. Your clit’s swollen—I can see it from here. It’s all but waving at me. I think you’re enjoying this, Miss Fischer. What a hot little slut you are when the mood takes you. I do hope you won’t stain your chair. Maybe I should have you do the drawing standing up?”

My stomach twists again at his words, and there’s a fresh dribbling of moisture from my wide open cunt. He’s right. I am a slut. And that being the case, I can’t help thinking how very acceptable it would be if he could see his way clear to ramming that thick, hard cock of his into my pussy right now. More wetness, more dribbles.
Christ!

“I’d prefer to sit, if I may. Perhaps there’s a towel or something…?”

“Perhaps. I’ll check. Don’t move.”

I remain in position as he strolls past me to the tiny kitchenette area. He emerges almost immediately with a tea towel. I’m sure there must be hygiene implications, but I keep those concerns to myself as he lays the towel across the seat of my chair.

“You can sit down now, and get started please.”

I dutifully take my seat, appreciating the roughness of the fabric under my throbbing pussy. I pick up my sketch pad, at the same time wriggling against the towel, my legs spread wide as I try to press my aching clit into it.

“Sit up and keep still. The quicker you finish the drawing, and we get your spanking done with, the quicker I’ll fuck you. And that
is
what you want, isn’t it?”

I do my best to sit normally as I glance at him, now lounging in Phyllis’ chair, his feet propped on her desk. “Yes. Thank you.”

His answering smile is almost imperceptible, and the next few minutes are spent in highly charged silence. Or near enough. The only sound is the faint scratching of my pencil across the paper as I quickly sketch a signboard, which I can do freehand, then carefully copy in the details from the plaque. Despite my current circumstances, I do manage to concentrate fully on my task. I can read the lettering, pretty much, but I know I need to take care over the details.

“Should I do the small writing as well? The numbers?”

“Of course. Those are our contact details. We’ll need those in our advertising. We want people to be able to find us.”

I nod briefly and return to the task, now peering closely at the plaque to be sure I don’t make any mistakes. I could do this much more quickly if he weren’t here, watching every move. The tension is almost palpable as I work even more slowly to avoid any mistakes. Well, to me it is. He seems perfectly relaxed.

At last I lay my pencil down on the desk and pass my sketchpad to Cain for his inspection. He looks at my efforts then glances across at me.

“Perfect, Abbie. We can use this as the cover for our next brochure.” He eyes me curiously, then stands and comes to crouch in front of me. He’s looking up into my face, clearly concerned.

“You’re scared. I can see it in your eyes. Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”

I shake my head, but can’t prevent the prickling of tears at the backs of my eyes. I
am
afraid, but not of the spanking as he seems to think. As he watches me, my face crumples and suddenly I’m sobbing.

“Holy fuck, Abbie.” He stands and scoops me from the chair, turning to sit down himself with me now cradled in his arms.

He holds me, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance as I weep into his shirt. He traces large circles on my bare back with his palm, and I loop my arms around his neck and cling on. At last my sobs subside, and I’m reduced to a rather unattractive gulping sound. Cain reaches across to Phyllis’ desk for her box of tissues, which he thrusts into my hands. I make good use of them, tidying my ravaged face up as best I can before I dare look him in the eye again.

“You a bit calmer now?” His tone is gentle, caring. I nod gratefully.

“Abbie, anytime you want to stop, you can use your safe word. You do know that, don’t you?”

I nod. “Yes. I know. It wasn’t that…”

“What then?”

What indeed? How can I even start to explain why I was so terrified as he studied my drawing, dreading that he might find something wrong. A letter copied the wrong way round, something missing. Anything at all to betray the fact that I can’t actually read it. And when he declared my reproduction perfect, I was so overwhelmed with relief that the floodgates just opened.

“It’s nothing. Just me. I get, sort of…emotional. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He hugs me closer. “It might, love, and if it does, that’s fine. I like emotion, it shows we’re connecting. I like you to be afraid too, up to a point. But you looked to me as though you were really scared back then, and you weren’t supposed to feel like that. Can’t you tell me why it was? So I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I shake my head. “Please, it was just me being silly. Can we leave it? Please, Cain?”

He kisses my hair. “We will talk this through, and I will get to the bottom of it. But not now. Not if you don’t want to. And speaking of bottoms…” He pauses to caress mine. “Would you prefer to just get dressed and I’ll take you home?”

“No! I mean, what about…?” I glance at my desk.

He smiles. “Ah, my little Abbie. What a pain freak you’re turning out to be. How lovely. But on this occasion, and because I scared you before, you can lie across my knee if you want that.”

I shake my head emphatically. “The desk. That’s what you said.” And, as an afterthought, “Why are you being so nice to me? This is a punishment isn’t it? I thought Doms were supposed to be stern. And hard.”

He doesn’t answer at first, but his expression is serious, considering. I’m conscious that our relationship is shifting, deepening. Perhaps he knows it too.

Eventually, he replies, “Doms are supposed to be whatever their subs need at the time. When you need stern and hard, you’ll get it. And when you need cuddling while you sob, you’ll get that too. And you’re quite correct, this is a punishment. So right now it seems you need to be spanked, and if you wouldn’t mind assuming the position, I’ll deliver that too.”

So, he
is
my Dom. And I suppose that makes me his sub. I’m glad to have that clear, and on impulse I frame his face in my hands and kiss his mouth quickly, before scrambling to my feet. He smiles at me, his expression one of warmth now, and approval. He doesn’t ask me what the kiss was for. There’s no need. He knows.

And if I thought my emotional state was vulnerable before, I’m quite clearly a goner now.

* * * *

“Eight.” My bottom is hurting now, really hurting, but my voice remains steady.

“Aah! Nine.” This time I can’t bite back the scream, but I manage not to shift from my position spread out across the desk.

“Are you okay? Last one?” He waits a moment for my response.

Despite the pain now radiating across the skin on my backside, I’m certain of my answer. “Yes, please. Do it.” My buttocks are clenched so tight, every muscle in my bottom and thighs tensed, waiting for the final slap. My weight is braced on the desk, the cool beech veneer surface smooth against my breasts and stomach.

Cain does not disappoint.

“Ten. Oh, Jesus, that hurts.”

Cain insisted that I count the spanks, and despite my moment of fragility earlier, he definitely does not hold back now. He promised me hard, and I got hard. My bottom feels to be on fire.

“Stay there. I want to be able to admire your beautiful red arse as I fuck you. God, you’re glowing, girl.”

“You have a heavy hand. Sir.”

“Maybe it’s you. You bring out the worst in me. Or the best, depending on how you look at it. Open your legs.”

The best, I’d say.
I groan as I move, every muscle protesting. But I do as I was told. I hear the sound of Cain unzipping his jeans, then the thud of his wallet landing on the desk alongside me. The snap of foil, and moments later his cock sinks into me, right to the hilt.

I groan again, but this time in gratitude. And just for good measure, “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome.”

There’s no more talking now as he sets up a rhythm, hard, brisk, each stroke perfectly angled to hit that special, sensitive spot. I’m clutching the edge of the desk, my arms stretched out in front of me. Cain’s hands are on my hips, holding me steady for his penetration. He leans forward, lifting my right leg to place my knee on the edge of the table, opening me farther. He reaches around and under me to take my clit between his thumb and finger. Instead of his usual stroking or flicking though, this time he squeezes it. Hard. And tugs it. Also hard. It’s painful. I yelp. He tugs again, harder.

I come instantly, the exquisite blend of pleasure and pain irresistible. How does he know? How the fuck does he know when I’m really hurting and when it’s just that he’s shoved me right to the very edge of pleasure? I have no time to contemplate that mystery though as my pussy convulses around him. My hips are gyrating, my cunt tightening and pulsating around his width, none of this under my conscious control. He thrusts harder, bumping my cervix with the head of his cock. His climax is soon there. He curses, leaning forward to bury his face in my hair as he plunges one last time into me and holds still, his body throbbing with its release just as mine is. Through my own climax, still ricocheting around my senses, I’m aware of the rush of warmth as the hot wash of semen fills the condom, and at last we’re both still.

Cain withdraws, quickly disposes of the condom in the loo then comes back to find me still draped across the desk.

“My hand prints are fading now, love. If you don’t shift from that absolutely delightful position, I’m going to start touching them up again.”

My buttocks quiver. It’s a nice thought, but I know when I’m beat. I wriggle my hands under me and start to push myself up. Cain’s arms are quickly around me, which is fortunate as I stagger when my legs protest at being asked to resume their normal function. He steadies me then considerately helps me to pull my outer clothes back on. I see no reason to bother with underwear.

“I was going to suggest we stop to eat at the pub on the way back, but neither of us is exactly fit to be out among decent folk just now. Straight home?” Cain grins at me as he picks up the van keys.

“Yes please.” I’m hungry, but I’ll settle for whatever’s in Cain’s freezer. What I really fancy more than anything right now is a long soak in the bath. I ask him if that’s a possibility.

“Of course. Before or after food?”

“After I suppose. It’s my turn to cook.”