The Three Rs (28 page)

Cain stops my babbling with one upraised finger. “What are you apologizing for, Abbie? Exactly?”

I stare at him blankly. Isn’t it obvious? “For losing us all that money. You can take it back from my share, obviously. I don’t want anyone else to be going short because of me.”

“I think you know already that the terms of James’ will won’t allow that, even if I was prepared to let you. What happened was a mistake. It was unfortunate, but it wasn’t your fault. Not really.”

Now I’m completely bemused. Of course it was my fault. My stupid fault for not knowing the simple difference between meters and feet and inches. Apparently Cain does not see it that way though, as he goes on to explain, “Our normal system for these things is that Phyllis prepares tenders based on my instructions, my figures, and I do a final check before it goes out. It’s a good system. It works. Yesterday, the problem was no one told you about it, so you didn’t know not to hand that proposal over to the client before I’d seen it. And there was no way we could have predicted that she’d just come waltzing in like that. In the normal course of things, Phyllis would have put both sets of figures in front of me, I’d have spotted straight away which was the correct one and Mrs Henderson would have got the right quote. Now you know what our process is, we’ve plugged that leak. It’s done with.”

I find his calm acceptance little short of amazing. We’ve lost thousands. I blurt out my protest, perhaps the latent business-woman in me finally surfacing, “But it isn’t. It can’t be. What about all that money?”

“I’m going to have a word with Fiona Henderson, we might yet be able to negotiate a deal. I’d have spoken to her already, but apparently she’s away until Monday.”

I nod. “Yes, that’s why she was here. In Berwick. She was on her way to a conference in Edinburgh. She was passing.”

He gives a short snort of mock laughter. “I see, that explains it. I had been curious as to why she was here in Berwick. But as I said, that wasn’t your fault. It was just an unfortunate combination of circumstances.” He smiles wryly, and I suppose there is an element of sod’s law about it. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. “So,” he continues, “now we’ve got that out of the way, is there anything else you need to apologize for?”

There is. I know there is. I behaved like a total brat last night. I completely lost my temper, driven no doubt by fear of being found out for the illiterate dunce I am, but even so. I was an absolute cow. Admitted, Cain was less than polite when he first discovered the cock-up, but in the circumstances, his reaction wasn’t disproportionate. And I now realize it was not directed at me. I can’t say the same for my tirade at him, the names I called him.

“I’m sorry I was so rude. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

He shrugs. “We all lose our rag sometimes. I knew you had a fiery temperament, right from the beginning. I don’t mind you yelling at me. Well, up to a point. And you were nowhere near that point yesterday. We were both upset, a bit stunned perhaps. Things got said, like they do. No harm done. So, what else?”

Now I’m at a loss. I’ve said I’m sorry, both for the awesome screw up and for yelling like a Banshee. He’s dismissed both as though they don’t matter. What else could there be?

“Abbie? What did I specifically ask you not to do? But you did it anyway.”

I’m staring at him, genuinely bewildered. And slightly nervous. His tone has taken on an edge I’m starting to find familiar. A steeliness has crept into his voice that tells me my bottom might be tingling soon, and not necessarily in a good way. At least, not initially. But I can’t work out why.

Cain decides to help me out, “I asked you not to leave. I asked you to stay and talk, to finish the conversation. But you walked out on me.”

“I— Yes, but…”

“Didn’t you?” His tone is implacable, he expects an answer.

He gets defensive babble, “I needed some space, time on my own to calm down.”

His eyes harden, narrowing just slightly. “No you didn’t. You left because you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. Or maybe you didn’t want to listen to me. I hadn’t finished. I asked you to stay. But you refused. I would never have walked out on you in the middle of an argument, Abbie. Not when there were things you still wanted to say to me.”

There is no hint of reproach in his tone, but there is disappointment. Displeasure. Both sting me, though I’m not sure why. I’m only now starting to recognize how important Cain Parrish’s good opinion is. In part, that’s what got me into this situation, my desperate attempts to avoid him finding out the real reason for the incorrect measurements, and consequently losing his respect. I seem to have lost that regardless, and much else besides.

And no, I believe he wouldn’t walk out on an argument. But then, he’s not a hot tempered ex-redhead with low self-esteem. I’ve been storming out on people all my life, whenever the going gets rough. I’m beginning to think though that those days might be numbered. Cain clearly won’t accept it.

Sure enough, “I intend to punish you for leaving me last night, as you deserve. Will you accept that from me?”

“Accept? What do you mean? What are you going to do?” I’m whispering, playing for time. I’m pretty sure I know exactly what he means, exactly what he intends to do. And to be fair, my thinking had been developing along the same lines. But inviting Cain to spank me is a long way removed from him claiming that right. This is a shift—a big shift in our relationship.

He continues to press his point. “I intend to spank you. Hard. You’ve earned a seriously sore bum for the way you behaved. So, will you lie down over my knee, lift your skirt, pull down your pants and accept your punishment? Then it’s over. Then, I fuck you and take you home. Or maybe take you home first, then fuck you. I’ll decide when we get to that point. What do you say to all that, Abbie?”

I had intended to plead with Cain to allow me to stay at the flat, just until I go to Bradford for my intensive reading lessons, but in this moment I can see that will never be acceptable. The spanking might, just might, be negotiable, but not the separation. He wants me back. He’s demanding it. And in truth, I want to go back. Maybe I should hesitate, take longer to consider my options, the implications. I do neither.

“Yes. All right. Now?”

“Of course now.” He walks toward me, and I back away instinctively. He pauses, his head tilted in warning. “Are you scared of me? Of this?”

I shake my head. I’m nervous, not sure exactly what to expect from this new side of my usually light-hearted, sensual Dom. I’m only now properly encountering Cain’s stern side, that part of his Dom nature that demands obedience from me. And respect. And delivers retribution. I’m not scared, not really, but I have every reason to be wary.

“No? Then don’t back away from me. I’ll never do anything to you that you weren’t expecting, that you haven’t consented to. So, the bedroom, I think.”

He strides past me, across my small living room and into the bedroom. I trail in his wake, noting that he seems to be very familiar with the layout of my flat. Not that it would be easy to get lost in here, but still. In the bedroom he pauses, glances around him.

“I used to live here. Until James died, and I inherited his old house and decided to move in there. I miss the place sometimes.”

Well that explains it. Obvious really. Meanwhile I’m still hovering by the bedroom door, unsure what to say or do now. “I—yes. It’s a nice flat.”

He turns, regards me solemnly for a few moments. “It is. But don’t get too attached to it.” With that he seats himself on the edge of the bed and turns that cool, steely gaze full on me.

“Take off your underwear, Abbie, and assume the position.” He pats his knee, as if his meaning was not entirely clear enough already.

I hesitate, not really intending to resist but still needing a few moments to gear up for what’s about to happen. An erotic spanking is one thing, but to allow him to spank me as a punishment, well, that requires a completely new bit of head space. This is me accepting his authority, his right to discipline me. What if it’s too much? What if he really hurts me?

Cain seems to understand what’s happening in my head and doesn’t rush me. He allows me to adjust, to realign my thinking as our relationship shifts and re-forms. This is no longer casual, just a bit of fun while it lasts. This is something more, but I’m not yet sure what the ‘more’ is, what he’s offering, or what I might want to accept. What I might offer in exchange.

“I won’t just spank you and then dump you. I’m doing this because I care about you, and about us. I’ll be here afterwards, to fuck you and to look after you. You
will
be all right with me, Abbie. You’ll be safe.” Intuitive as ever, Cain provides the reassurance I need.

“Can I use my safe words, if it’s too much?”

“If what I’m doing is truly intolerable, then yes, of course. You always have your safe words. But remember, Abbie, this is a punishment. I’m not setting out to arouse you. It’s not intended to feel good. It
will
hurt. But you’re a grown woman. I expect you to face up to what you’ve done and the consequences, and to accept your punishment gracefully. Can you do that?”

I take a deep breath. And another, before I nod. Our talking is done. With no further ado, I reach down, lift my skirt to peel away my pants and tights. Cain watches me in silence as I place my discarded underwear on a chair beneath the window, then he beckons me to him. I walk across the room, and whilst my heart is thumping hard, I’m strangely calm. At ease. Cain’s slight smile of approval as I lean over his lap and place my stomach across his knees is all the further encouragement I need.

He waits until I’m settled, lying still, then, “Lift your skirt up, Abbie. Right up above your waist.”

I do it, conscious of the cool air on my bottom as my buttocks are exposed. My thighs are pressed close together, my muscles tense. I wince as Cain’s palm connects with my right buttock, even though his touch is light, a sensual caress.

“How many swats, do you think? What have you deserved, Abbie? What will it take to teach you the lesson you need to learn?”

I have no idea, no frame of reference for this. I’ve managed twenty spanks in the past, and been all right with that. But this is different. This is meant to instil in me some sort of lesson, a warning for the future.

“Twenty-five? Would that be enough, do you think?” I can but hope.

He’s stroking my bottom, his palm smoothing across the sensitive skin, his fingertips sinking into the fleshy part. It feels so good. I wonder if he’ll still be inclined to pleasure me after this. And will I still want him to?

“You’re new to all this, so yes, twenty-five will be enough, I think. On this occasion. I can make your sweet little arse smart well enough with that. Once I start, I expect you to keep still. Scream if you want, but don’t wriggle or try to cover your bum with your hands. Remember what I said to you just now. You’re an adult, a submissive who’s earned a punishment, so act like one. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I’m ready.” I’m not sure I’ll ever be completely ready, but this is a near as I’m going to get. Then I yelp in pain and my body jerks upwards as the first swat lands.

Cain says nothing, but his palm on my back between my shoulder blades makes it clear I’m to get back in position and stay down. He waits until I go still again, then, “I’ll let that one go, but do not move again, Abbie. If you do, I’ll repeat that slap. The sooner you get yourself under control, the sooner we’re done here and can get on to the fucking, which I’m sure we’re both looking forward to. Well, I am.”

I grit my teeth. “Sorry. I
will
keep still. I promise.”

“Good girl.”

I scream again as the second slap lands, but by the third I’m managing to ride the pain better. My body tenses up with each blow, but by sheer effort of will I’m remaining in place. He delivers the next three strokes swiftly, each one landing just below its predecessor, and alternating between the cheeks of my bum. I’m counting the spanks silently in my head, wondering if I’ll be able to accept all twenty-five without even a time out. I hope so, I don’t want to drag this out.

“How many is that, Abbie?” His voice is low and sexy. He caresses my seriously sore bottom with his palm as he waits for me to reply.

“Ten, I think.”

“Mmm, I agree. Ten. Nearly half way there. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. A bit sore, but I’m okay.”

“Good. Because these next few will be harder. Punishment, remember?”

And he’s right, they are. I’m screaming in earnest as the next five spanks land, hard and heavy on my tender skin. My bottom feels to be on fire, the pain radiating everywhere. But still I manage to hold my position, not wriggling, and by the time he’s approaching twenty, I’ve stopped screaming again, settling for gentle but persistent weeping instead. Christ, this is hard.

“Open your legs, Abbie.”

Oh God, he intends to slap my pussy.
I gasp, and whimper quietly, but I do as he’s asked, obediently exposing my most delicate and sensitive area for his punishment. He doesn’t spin this out. His palm connects with my cunt but less forcefully than I had feared. The lips of my pussy are already swollen and slick, and his slap causes me to clench uncontrollably.

“Mmm, interesting. What a hot and sexy little sub you are, Abbie. Even when you’re receiving the spanking of your life you can still manage to get wet. Shall I just check how you’re doing?”