Treasured Submission (20 page)

"I think that bottom is too comfortable. Move back a bit until you find a fresh, hot spot, Abby." She blushed but moved back about a foot. When she sat down again, she surged up with a startled yelp.

"That's it; get that striped butt down, young lady."

Abby obeyed, settling gingerly. Perhaps she'd find what she desperately needed with just a bit more time seated on the hot, unforgiving surface of the rock. She moaned as the day's heat retained in the boulder transferred to her punished backside, once again pulling her knees up to wrap her arms around them.
Why are you playing at submission, Abigail Pierce?
her heart asked.
Obedience means absolutely nothing without commitment to the entire process, including a true con
…

"Shut up!" Abby hissed.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, easily having heard her words even though she had her head buried against her knees.

Startled, Abby's head flew up and she saw Dean stepping towards her. "What?" she asked quietly, fearing he had given her an instruction that had not been heard above the voices warring inside her.

"Honey, are you okay?" Dean asked, squatting down to her level to search her face.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, her eyes sliding away from his scrutiny, as they appeared to be looking into her, as if to find and perhaps speak to the two factions that were making her stomach twist and her heart hurt.

Her nod, when he asked if she were sure, did nothing to alleviate Dean's concern. Despite being surrounded with beauty and near silence, it didn't appear that time spent reflecting was doing Abby any good. Dean moved her twice more, seeming to know instinctively when the rock had cooled beneath her bottom. Each time, she obeyed, praying each move would move her towards peace.

When a shadow fell across her, she looked up to see Dean holding out his hand. Placing her hand in his, she was drawn up to be engulfed in his arms. She shivered with the relief of connection. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You are forgiven, honey."

As she felt his lips kiss the top of her head, her eyes welled. Being wrapped in his arms felt divine, and would have been perfect if those hated voices would just shut up.

Dean moved one hand to lift her chin, bending to kiss her forehead, his fingertips stroking along her cheeks where so many tears had traveled. "Let me demonstrate the benefits of aftercare, my love," he whispered. Instead of melting in his arms as he expected, Abby stiffened and shook her head.

"No, that's all right. Um, let's just go, okay?" she asked, pushing away from the warmth and forgiveness of his embrace.

Dean was startled at her reaction. "Abby, are you sure? You accepted your punishment, sweetheart. It's over and I wish you'd let me cuddle and love you."

The look in his eyes and his soft tone almost made her capitulate. It would be easy to change her mind. Her head was screaming at her to step closer, to throw her arms around his neck and beg him to make love to her. Wishing with all of her soul that she could listen to her head, the cold voice in her heart refused to be denied.

"Can't we just go?" she asked in a strangled voice that pulled at Dean's heart.

He searched her face, and didn't like the look in her eyes. Evidently the switching had done far more than stripe her bottom. The time spent reflecting hadn't allowed her to move past the pain and embarrassment of being spanked to arrive at the place where she knew she was fully forgiven.

"Honey, talk to me," Dean said. "What's wrong?"

Abby felt that her heart and soul were as naked as she was. She felt as if Dean were looking inside her, and was suddenly very frightened of what he'd see. Turning away, she walked to the cooler to pick up her clothing and began the process of dressing.

"Abs, talk to me," Dean said softly. "Honey, something isn't right here."

"Everything is fine, Dean," Abby said. "It's getting late and I just want to get dressed and go."

Dean was not a man to force himself on a woman, even though part of him knew Abby needed him to make love to her. Aftercare was one of the most vital parts of discipline. She needed to be comforted, to know she was loved. He wanted to make sure she understood that he wasn't going to walk away simply because she had made a bad choice. Her soft moan as she slid her jeans over what had to be a very sore bottom gave him pause. Yes, he had punished her, but he had also forgiven her. He didn't like that she was in pain, but harbored no guilt over what he had done. Suddenly he had a new thought as the word guilt ran through his head. Could it be that Abigail still felt guilty? Was she refusing aftercare because some part of her thought she didn't deserve to be forgiven and loved?

Dean pulled in the stringer of fish and Abby silently opened the cooler so that he could place them on the bed of ice. She blushed, thinking her ass had to be the same color as the bright red ice chest. They barely spoke as he gathered up the remaining items from their outing and she folded the blanket. Abby didn't realize that Dean was watching her as she unconsciously stroked her fingers across the soft blanket, as if remembering lying on it with him, making love for the first time. When he reached out his hand to cover hers, she gave a muffled moan and turned away.

The sun was almost completely gone by the time they reached the car. When Abby attempted to open her door, Dean made a decision. Popping the trunk, he stowed the gear away and shut the lid. He walked to where she was standing, arms still folded around the blanket, looking anywhere but at him. He hit the button to unlock the door but as she reached for the handle, his hand reached out and took her arm.

"Not yet," he said softly turning her to face him. "Pull your jeans and panties down. You'll sit on your bare bottom."

"Wh–what?" Abby stammered, again wondering if she needed to have her hearing checked. "You can't be serious!"

"I've never been more serious, young lady," Dean said calmly. "It's obvious that the time you spent reflecting on the rock wasn't enough. Sitting on your sore bare bum all the way home will give you another opportunity to seriously reflect on what it is that is making you feel unsettled. Something is eating you up inside, Abby."

Abigail's heart hammered as she wondered how he could possibly know what she was struggling with. Stubbornness and guilt made her lash out. "Just because I didn't want you to fuck me doesn't give you the right to force me to strip!"

Not allowing her to see that her words cut him to the core, Dean took a calming breath and trusted his instincts. "Do you need me to do it for you?" he asked, pulling the blanket from her arms.

Something in his eyes, and the firm, calm tone of his voice told her that Dean wasn't asking. He wasn't kidding either. She shook her head vigorously, unzipping her jeans and pushing both them and her panties down to her knees. She gasped as she settled her bare bottom onto the blanket he had placed over her seat, blushing hotly at her position and the confused feelings that were swirling about in her tummy.

He bent down to fasten her seat belt, his warm hand touching the bared skin of her thigh as he clicked the belt into place. He turned to her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before straightening. "Good girl, thank you." Her trembling didn't go unnoticed as he shut her door and slid behind the wheel.

As they drove out of the woods, she finally said, "Um, Dean? What if someone can see me, I mean see that I'm, um…"

"Bare bottomed?" he asked. She nodded shyly and he said, "I don't care who sees you, young lady. You will have to learn not to care either. Your job is to sit there and be quiet. Don't worry about what other people might see or think. Don't even think about me. Think about why you still feel guilty. Take this time to ask yourself some hard questions."

She looked out her window and then back to him, squirming a bit, trying to convince herself that the embarrassment of her position was the source of her discomfort, and not the fact that Dean's insight was to blame for her clenching stomach.

He continued to drive, looking over occasionally and seeing her slowly put her hands in her lap, covering her pubis from any prying eyes. He reached out to pull her hand away, placing it down at her side. "Naughty," he warned. "You are never to cover yourself from me when you are being disciplined; just as you are never to rub your bottom after a spanking. Keep your hands down unless you need me to pull over right now and give you another spanking."

Abby blushed to the roots of her hair but bared her pubis to his eyes, though he knew she was probably praying that his would be the only eyes able to discern the fact that she was indeed naked from the waist down. Dean released her hand and patted her bare thigh. "That's my good girl."

Abby moaned, but kept her hands clenched at her sides as ordered. They drove back onto the highway. Passing cars and large trucks, her soft whimpers of distress communicated that she was terrified of being discovered bare-bottomed in a car, but never once did her hands move from her sides. He was extremely proud of her obedience, and prayed she was using the time as he intended.

Feeling the car slowing, Abby looked up from her lap as they drove another half mile, before Dean pulled into an unfamiliar driveway and stopped the car. He opened his door and walked around to hers. By the time he had it open, she had pulled up her clothing and was zipping up her jeans.

"No, ma'am," he said, motioning with his hand for her to lower her pants again. She looked around and then back at him. "Please?" she asked, her hands trembling. He shook his head and waited. Lowering her jeans and panties again, she remembered to keep her hands at her sides. He nodded and held out his hand to help her from the car. Being seated bare-assed had been awful, but standing before him now, her clothing at her knees, half-naked and exposed was horrid.

"You will remain bare after you are punished until given permission to cover. Knowing your punished bottom is exposed will help remind you of your disobedience. Generally, I will be the one to cover you. Understand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Dean felt she was getting a bit closer to where she needed to go, but her lack of proper address told him she was not yet there. Knowing he needed to take this slowly, and to constantly reassure her that she was safe, that she was loved, he said, "That's my good girl," gently kissing her forehead.

Her heart clutched as his lips brushed her skin, the simple gesture almost breaking her. She whimpered her relief when he reached down and pulled up first her panties, then her jeans. As he zipped them, she looked around more openly now, grateful to be dressed again. Refusing to think about how being half-naked had made her feel very submissive, and ignoring the rush of moisture she felt between her legs, she focused on something else.

"Dean, this isn't, this isn't my house. I thought you were taking me home."

"Not yet," he said, walking around the car, to open the door and gather their coffee mugs and a few other items he had tossed into the backseat. Suddenly her eyes widened. Though she was standing mere feet from him, she was unable to discern what he was doing. The windows of the car were darkly tinted, making the interior almost impenetrable. Unless one was looking directly through the windshield, they would have been unable to tell that she had been sitting bare bottomed. On the heels of that realization, she understood that though he might ask her to do things that could be potentially embarrassing, he would never purposefully put her in a situation that was truly untenable.

Once he had the car empty, handing her a couple of things to carry, he led her up the steps to a large, open veranda. There were terra-cotta pots overflowing with flowers in a riot of color sitting along the steps of the porch. Hanging baskets of thick green ferns were spaced evenly along the length. White rocking chairs encouraged people to sit and visit.

"This is just beautiful, so welcoming," she said, unable to deny the beauty though her stomach was still churning.

Dean unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for her to enter ahead of him. "Thank you, I like it," he said, as he followed her inside. "Close enough to town but far enough away to feel secluded." Dean flipped on the overhead light and Abby gasped. The entire back wall was a plate of glass, allowing the outdoors to be part of the house.

She could see nothing but lawn, and then woods surrounding the house. She turned to him and said, "Oh my, I misspoke. This isn't just beautiful—this is absolutely gorgeous!" Though he was pleased at her words, they weren't the ones he needed to hear. He led her into the kitchen, which was also open and spacious, taking the travel mugs from her hands and placing them into the sink. He washed his hands and dried them on a towel, his eyes remaining on the woman in his kitchen.

Abby shuffled her feet, feeling a bit silly for talking about his house, but latching onto anything but the thoughts hammering in her head. "What about the fish?" she asked lamely, pointing to the Igloo that he had rolled into the kitchen. "Do you want me to help clean them?"

As far as he was concerned, her offer said she was rejecting her 'prize' from earlier and served as a further flag of her guilty conscience.

"Dinner can wait," Dean said, taking her hand and leading her through the house. Abby remained silent as he led her down a long hall and opened a door, pulling her into the large master suite.

Ignoring the massive king-size bed dominating the room, she focused on the plate of glass that covered an entire wall. She could see tall trees swaying in the breeze. "It's like a tree house," she exclaimed, walking to the window. Dean switched off the light, and she could see stars starting to appear in the sky. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his body, causing her to gasp as her bottom bumped into his muscular thighs. As she attempted to pull away, he increased his grip on her waist, pulling her closer.

"Still sore?" he asked, hearing her soft moan but feeling her relax against him.

"Yes, I don't think I will ever sit down comfortably again, thanks to you."

"I believe we both know who is responsible for your sore ass." He kissed her hair and then spoke softly. "Talk to me, Abby. We need to finish this."

"It is finished. You spanked me and said you forgave me."

"It's not finished. I'm not sure—" Dean began, but she interrupted.

"You know, you just grabbed me and spanked me. You didn't discuss it before like you said you would," she said, latching onto a subject that focused on his actions versus her own. "Dean, you said no spanking, but I forgive you. I don't know why you refuse to just let it go."

Dean wasn't surprised to hear her discussing his decision to give her her first spanking, but was a bit surprised to hear her tone as she once again offered her forgiveness. It was obvious she was refusing to accept his. Knowing she needed to work it through until she was truly accepting of his dominance, he said, "I believe the operative word was 'yet'. I also believe that I told you that you'd always understand why you had been punished. Can you tell me that you don't understand why I spanked you, why you also received your first switching?" Abby remained silent but he could feel the tension in her body. Though she wasn't attempting to pull away, she was no longer leaning softly against him. He spoke quietly, but with an unmistakable tone of authority. "Answer me, Abigail." Despite his tone, she still didn't speak or move.

Abby's insides were churning as she played the day back in her mind. If she admitted she had truly deserved the spanking, was she opening a door in which he could step through as her sole disciplinarian whenever he so chose? Once opened, would she ever be able to close the door against him? She had submitted to him today; God, she had even cut the switch he had used on her bottom, covering what felt like every inch with a red welt. If she told him the truth, would he spank her again? Would he take back his forgiveness knowing she had lied to him? Could she survive if he did? She felt him move back away from her.