Come Back to Me (Bound to You Book 2) Page 13

  “I went on the forum, Paolo… just now, when you told me to get myself together. And…” she quavered. “Winston told me to talk to you, but I stayed because I was mad at you. I'm sorry,” she said, as more tears came. It was impossible to hang onto any of that while draped over his lap. She couldn't be angry, or push back. Lying over his knee, she felt stripped of anything but her submission to him.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  She paused, surprised at his lack of response to her confession. “No. I don't think so,” she whispered.

  “At any time today, have you had anything you've withheld from me?”

  And it was then she realized with vivid clarity why she'd spiraled out of control, why a teasing swat in the store had made her angry, why she'd been infuriated with him over the most trivial choice in kitchen towels, why she hadn't come to him and submitted to punishment in the first place, but instead had gone to the forum and stayed even though she knew she wasn't supposed to.

  “Many times, Sir,” she whispered.

  His hand came down so hard and suddenly, she cried out. The sound of his palm striking her bare skin clapped like thunder, and she bucked from the pain of it, but he was prepared. His strong hands grasped her around the waist, pulling her back over his lap, holding her down, as his hand came down again. She cried out as he continued to spank her.

  “I told you to come to me,” he remonstrated, punctuating his words with punishing swats. “I told you not to hold back those feelings. This is where you're going to make those mistakes, letting your feelings fester and simmer, instead of dealing with them with me.”

  And suddenly she felt angry, fury coursing through her, and even though she knew she was in a vulnerable place, she couldn't help it as her anger exploded with each swat of his hand.

  “You don't know!” she shouted, and she felt his palm pause, raised above her. “You don't know what it's like to have these feelings and not know why or even what they are! How would you know? All you care about is bossing me around. You don't care what I think! You don't care what I feel! You'll embarrass me in public, tell me what…”

  She gasped as his hand came down even harder. She couldn't breathe it hurt so much. She pushed against his lap, trying to get off, but he held fast. She was so angry, she wanted to hurt him. She tried to fight him off her, but he was far too strong so instead she twisted, trying to get away, but it was no use.

  “Lie still!” he ordered, but she fought him. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want him to spank her. It wasn't fair. And it hurt like hell.

  “Meredith, stop!” he thundered.

  “No!” she screamed, trying fruitlessly to get away from him. “Fuck you! Fuck this! Let me go!”

  But he was stronger, and she was in no position to tell him what to do. As she fought him, he held her even tighter, so tightly it hurt as his arm pinned her down against her lower back. All she could think about was getting away. Completely oblivious to what he was doing, the fire of pain she felt next shocked her, as the hard, unyielding wood cracked against her skin.

  It felt like a thousand bee stings. White hot pain seared her skin. She was on fire. She couldn't bear it. And he'd only given her one swat.

  “Ten! Fucking ten!” she gasped, panting as she tried to breathe enough air into her lungs so she could speak. He held her, squirming and struggling, and it surprised her that his voice was low and in control when he spoke. Not angry. Not menacing.

  Just absolutely in control.

  “Only ten?”

  She yelped with the second strike of the spoon, impossibly harder and more painful than before. Again, it fell. She couldn't get away, or make him stop. There was no choice but to submit. A pause, and then he brought it down again, searing pain the only focus now. She couldn't fight him anymore. Everything around her faded. There was no room to even mentally process her anger. All she wanted was for him to stop. It had to stop. She couldn't take it. She closed her eyes against it but there was no fight left in her. She flinched, but did not fight, as he brought the spoon down, slowly and deliberately.

  “For your disrespect,” he said, punctuating each sentence with several blistering swats.

  “For putting yourself in danger.” Swat!

  “For disobeying me.”

  One after the other, he administered her punishment, but unable to fight, unable to get away, all she could do was take it.

  “I told you to come to me.” Another sharp, solid whack.

  “I can't help you if I don't know.” He paused, arm raised, as she braced herself to take it. “Talking to you hasn't gotten through to you. Warning you hasn't gotten through to you. I fucking hope this spanking communicates what I haven't been able to.”

  Swat!

  “I will not let you push me out.”

  Swat after swat fell, and she lost count, focused only on the pain and his words.

  A sob caught in her throat, and what little resistance she had left in her fled, as she choked out a whispered, but sincere, “Paolo. I'm sorry.”

  It wasn't the pain but what he said that finally released the torrent of emotions with her.

  I won't let you push me out.

  She had. She had pushed him out.

  He dropped the spoon on the bed, and she lay limply over his lap as his hand traveled to her bottom and she wept into the cover.

  “We're done,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. His hand ran over her, comforting now, rubbing out the sting, as he began to stroke her tender skin. “You're forgiven,” he said.

  And she felt it. She knew he meant it. He had forgiven her. She'd paid the price for her disobedience. And now, it was over.

  There was no more festering anger. It was gone, all of it.

  He paused, his hand resting on her.

  “You should have come to me, Meredith,” he chided softly, though his tone was no longer scolding. “You took a risk and made a dangerous decision. You disrespected me. And when the time came to face your consequences, you fought me,” he said. “But this is all over now. This is over now.”

  As she came back to where she was, and she listened to what he said, she felt a twisting in her chest, and a fresh sob escaped. He was right. Oh, God, he was right. All of it. If she'd come to him in the beginning, if she'd told him when she'd first felt angry, he wouldn't have punished her. He'd have known what she was struggling with. She buried her face in her arms on the bed, as tears flowed freely, deep sobs that shook her, but he merely continued to stroke her.

  “Shhh, baby,” he soothed, “Let it out now. I wish I'd known. I'm sorry I made you angry. I never meant to.”

  She'd landed herself into this position by holding in her doubts and misgivings, all her confused thoughts and feelings. She couldn't put them there again. She wouldn't put them there again. No, even if she sounded silly, even if it killed her to lay herself bare, she wouldn't hold back from him.

  It wasn't about just her. They were both in this.

  She didn't know what would happen when she opened her mouth, didn't know what she'd say, but she had to tell him.

  “Paolo,” she choked, her sobs dampening the blanket under her cheek. “I'm—I–don't know how—what—”

  “Shhh,” he soothed. “Tell me, Meredith. Just tell me. Don't plan it, baby. Don't censor. Say what's on your mind,” he instructed, his words calm but forceful, and she knew he was intent on making his point through her correction, that she needed to come to him as she was. She needed to stop holding herself back, controlling how things sounded, or what she wanted to say.

  He wanted her raw, exposed, and honest.

  Just as she was.

  “Paolo,” she whispered.

  “Yes, baby,” he said, as he continued to rub in circles on her stinging bottom.

  “I'm sorry!” she choked out, another sob catching as she wept into her arms.

  “Come here,” he said, lifting her up. “Up on the bed,” he ordered, pointing for her to scoot up. It hurt so b
adly, she gasped, but she obeyed him, crawling on all fours to her side of the bed as he situated himself propped up on pillows. “Come here, now,” he repeated, pulling her over to him, her damp curls falling in her face as she continued to cry quietly.

  “I'm sorry,” she repeated. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said about not wanting this. That was—aw—awful,” she hiccupped, tears continuing as she spoke. “I-I'm sorry, I'm just—I don't even know—”

  “Say it,” he ordered softly. “All of it. Don't stop it. Don't hold back. Say everything that's on your mind. You need to, Meredith. No more holding back.”

  “I don't like fighting,” she whispered. “I hate how I feel when I snap at you. I like how I feel when you're in charge and I obey you.”

  “Good girl,” he encouraged. “Keep going. Say it, Meredith. Tell me how you're feeling right now.”

  “That was terrible,” she whispered. “Way past a ten. It hurt like hell. But I-I deserved it,” she stuttered. “I was so angry at you. But I-I want to submit to you. And you—you were in control. I didn't even know you could spank me like that, but I-I wasn't submissive,” she whispered, tears flowing freely. “I wasn't submitted to you. I wasn't letting you lead me. I was angry, and lashing out, and doing whatever the hell I wanted.”

  He nodded, holding her, his arms unyielding. “Go on, baby,” he encouraged.

  She buried her face in his chest and let the tears come as she choked out everything she had to say, everything on her mind and heart. “I love you,” she said. “I love you so much. I don't want to fight with you anymore. I don't ever want to do that to you again,” she sobbed, soaking the front of his t-shirt as he held her.

  “You've done well, bonita,” he crooned. “I'm so proud of you. You've done so well, baby,” he praised. “There were reasons you acted the way you did. And we'll deal with those reasons, because you and I need to make sure we don't go there again. But for now, you need to let yourself feel what you need to feel. This is where you're going to learn.” He paused, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

  “We both have much to learn,” he whispered. “Now, I want you to tell me when you first got angry with me.”

  When did she first get angry with him? In the hall. When she went to get a coat, she—no. No, it had happened before that. She'd revealed their real names, talked back to him, and he hadn't punished her. But she couldn't tell him that. It would sound so weird, telling him she was mad at him that he hadn't punished her, when she'd just received the worst spanking of her life from him, and who would want that? Her intuitive response was to bury that thought, but the low rumble of his voice stopped her.

  “Think, baby,” he said, as she continued to sniff quietly. “Think about what made you angry. I've done many things that pushed your limits in the past few days. When did you first feel it? Was it when I told you I would feed you?”

  She shook her head. No. No, it wasn't that. He'd done many things that had caused her to squirm and made her uncomfortable, but none of that had caused her seething anger.

  “When you didn't punish me,” she confessed. She buried her face in his chest, ashamed of her confession. It surprised her when she felt his hand on the nape of her neck, tight, pulling her head back so she could look up at him.

  “Do not hide from me now,” he commanded, his eyes burning into her, dark and stern and the gentleness about him had hardened. She felt an immediate prickle of fear at the command, and the instant desire to submit to him.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  He nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was low and commanding. “When did I not punish you? Be specific, Meredith.”

  She swallowed. “When I logged onto the forum,” she said. “You told me not to reveal our names to anyone. And yes, it was accidental, but still, I told Little Lady your real name. And then when you came to me, I snapped at you, and you didn't punish me for either of those things. And it made me angry. I'm not sure why, Paolo. I don't enjoy being punished. It's humbling, and it hurts really badly, and it's not fun at all. But somehow, knowing that I did something that was wrong, and you not following through made me feel like you don't care about me, or about this, or something.”

  His lips turned down, as he looked away, and she knew he was processing through what she said. Waiting for his response, she pressed her face against his damp t-shirt. She let herself feel his strength and warmth.

  “You did the right thing telling me,” he said. “And there are two things we need to take away from this. I want you to pay close attention. Are you listening?”

  Was she listening? Hell yeah, she was listening. She was on freaking tenterhooks waiting for his every word.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “How do you feel when I punish you?” he asked.

  “How do I feel?” she whispered. She hadn't expected a question.

  “Yes, Meredith. Think about it. When I tell you to get over my knee, and punish you for disobeying me. How does that make you feel?”

  She thought about it. How did she feel? Well, if she was honest, the whole thing was really sexy. His command, the loss of control, being spanked into submission. And after he spanked her, she felt the continued sexual vibe between them. He was stronger, sexier, and her body responded to him. She loved yielding to him. She loved the feeling of surrender. She loved the trust, and the intimacy in allowing him the power to discipline her.

  “It's sexy,” she said. “It's hard to explain. It's not like you're… turning me on. No, when you punish me, right then, I'm not turned on. Not in that moment, anyway. It's more like… your control over me is very… erotic.”

  “Yes. But there's more to it, isn't there?”

  “Much more,” she whispered.

  “Tell me, baby,” he urged.

  “I feel like you care about me. I feel like I'm important to you, so important that you'll put down what you're doing and make sure I've learned a lesson. I feel like… my obedience is important to you,” she whispered. “My well being matters to you. You care about me, enough to control your own anger and punish me, even though you might not want to. That you want to teach me. All of it, Paolo, I feel all of that.”

  It felt good to let it all out. It was cathartic, to tell him all this, and as the words tumbled out of her, she felt how good and cleansing it was to feel all this, as the words she said aloud gave way to an understanding she hadn't yet accepted in her own mind.

  “Very good, bonita,” he said. “Very, very good. I'm proud of you.” She sank into his chest as his praise soothed her. He chuckled. “Baby, I don't think you could get any closer to me if you tried.”

  “We could get a little closer,” she whispered, quietly so that it wouldn't sound like she was talking back. He chuckled.

  “Not yet, baby. We're not done here yet. So would you agree that although you don't like to be punished, you want me to insist on your obedience to me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And when I take the time to follow through on what I've said to you, I'm a man of my word. You know I'm dependable, and that I mean what I say? And that brings you security,” he said.

  “Yes. Yes, that's it exactly.”

  “Then I have two things to say to you.”

  She felt him tighten his arms around her, as she waited.

  “First, and I want you to listen well.” His voice had taken on a sterner edge, and she felt her back go straight. “The decision as to when and how I punish you is for me to make. If you're going to learn to obey me, you must understand that if I decide you need mercy, then mercy is what I will grant you. If I decide you're getting a spanking, then you'll get a spanking. If I decide it's best you go to bed early, or spend some time alone to think things over, that's my call. You're always welcome to talk to me. In fact, I'm requiring that you do that. I'm not telling you that I don't want to hear what's on your mind. What I am telling you, is that what I decide is my call and I don't want any disrespect or you questioning my decisions. Is t
hat clear?”

  She nodded, humbled, accepting what he was saying even though she knew what he proposed was easier said than done. Still, he was right. He was so right. If she wanted him to be in charge, then she had to let him be in charge, and that didn't mean handling things the way she wanted him to. It meant accepting he would handle her the way he thought best. He continued.

  “And second. I'm sorry about how you felt about my decision. I'm sorry it made you angry, and it hurt you. I get that. I see you need to know I mean what I say. You need to know you can depend on me to follow through. I will own my part in what happened here, though I'm not apologizing for what I did. You will accept my decisions and I owe no apology. But I am sorry you were hurt, and I wish I'd known that before you spiraled out like that.”

  She nodded into his chest, grateful that he understood exactly what it was she was trying to communicate to him. It all made sense. Yes, this made sense.

  “Do you understand what we're taking away from this?” he asked, his voice dropping and eyes narrowing on her.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  Paolo wanted her to submit to him, to come to him and tell him what was on her mind. She would obey him, and seek to please him, putting his needs above her own, trusting that he would meet her needs. Doing what it took to trust him would be challenging, but she would try, even if it meant telling him things about herself that she didn't like, even if it meant being embarrassed or shy. Still, she would do it.

  “Tell me, Meredith,” he commanded gently. “Tell me what we're taking away from this.”

  “I will accept all that you give me. It's not up to me to question when and how you discipline. I need to keep telling you how I feel, even if it makes me feel silly or embarrassed, and I need to trust that you'll do what's right by me.”

  “Very good. And what was the second part of what I said?”