Every Moment...
Part Seven
by sarAdora


...Arrogance ...

First and foremost, he was a gentleman, a gentleman swallowing bile... attempting to ignore the rebuff Michaela expressed at his dinner invitation. Thinking to give her a chance to see that they belonged together, he called her when they both returned to London. Dinner at the Gordon Ramsay restaurant in Claridge's, romantic albeit pricey, was his way of setting the mood, the path to a more harmonious relationship... and though she was less than gracious in refusing him... She could have lied... made an excuse... didn't have to...

"Are you out of your bleeding mind?" she had railed at him before slamming the phone's receiver into its cradle. "Get out of my life and stay there!"

Denial... she's in denial. Refuses to believe she needs me... Don't need her either, arrogant woman. Pigheaded, too... must be the auburn hair... stubborn... willful... She needs a good sound spanking... She needs me! She needs...


"I have never in my life..." she fumed at everyone and no one, her words ricocheting off the walls of her flat when she hung up the phone. "The man is as bullheaded as... as... He can't seem to get it through his head that I am *not* submissive! I'm not! He's in denial; no other way to describe it. He simply refuses to believe that I'm willing to sss... sub... s-s-s-submit, to allow myself to follow his... rules... To be inspected and examined... to... And he's the most arrogant barbarian! Filled with... with... a... a superiority that transcends every other..."

She groped for words that made sense to the person she had been before meeting Tyler Hamilton. She wrestled with her conscience, the unsettled thoughts that popped up when least expected... the unnerving feelings that shook her... her mind in overdrive... careening back and forth within her, pulling her back and pushing her forward... into a pit of... domination... filled with his control... his rules... his hands... his mouth... his... his... an abyss of... submission.

Shaking her head at the internal turmoil, she covered her eyes, remembering their every moment, each second... horrendous... and wonderful... each and every moment... opening my eyes, awakening me... awakening me to... to... something I wanted urgently... and didn't know I wanted... Each and every moment was something I needed... something I craved.   "I hate you, Tyler Hamilton!"

She refused to meet with him, refused to see him, refused to answer his calls. She thought about him every day... dreamed about him every night... remembering each and every moment of their brief time together. She hated him with a passion that defied... "Damn you!" she groaned when she was alone. I want you, she mourned in the recesses of her mind.

...Denial... refusal to believe a doctrine... disavowing...
disbelief... not acknowledging...
...Need... of necessity... requirement...
a condition marked by the lack of something that must be filled...

...The gods watched... observed the woman's ambivalence, her need evident even though she denied its existence. They looked to the goddess, Freya, shaking their heads, their faces unmasked and clearly expressing their disappointment.

"This is your doing," one of the gods admonished the beautiful Freya. "Make it right for her. Make her go to him."

"You think he is any less stubborn than she?" Freya asked quietly, not expecting an answer.


...Stubborn... unreasonably obstinate... stiff as stone... uncompromising.
...Arrogance ... real or assumed superiority, disdain, insolently proud...

Biding his time until he knew she was as desperate for him as he was for her... Tyler went on with his life, ignoring his own need... He refused to consciously think about her and what they had shared... Unbidden, snippets of conversation were remembered... mental images of her draped across his knees fueled his imagination... her sweet bottom pinked, then red... her soft body under him... the heat of her internal walls squeezing him... the feel of the inside of her like none other... He pushed his thoughts and memories of her away and only allowed them to seep into his conscious mind... daily... every hour on the hour... sometimes able to ignore his need in fifteen-minute stretches... cursing... constantly.

"She needs me," he told himself each morning. "She wants me," he reminded himself several times a day. "I need you," he quietly acknowledged each night, "but you have to come to me. I will not go to you.


Freya looked at the gods as they observed Tyler Hamilton and gave a rueful smile. "We need a miracle. We need an oracle, an oracle from Delphi."

Apollo, god of light, god of healing and prophecy nodded in agreement...


Whatever possessed her to return to Plymouth and visit the costume shop was as much a mystery to Michaela as it was to the people on the street who watched her "strut her stuff" in the window. Maybe it was the shop's name - "Totally Crackers" - that caught her fancy. Maybe it was the extra glass of bubbly wine she had drunk on an empty stomach. Maybe it was the need for frivolity... maybe she was possessed... Whatever it was, here she was... wearing a gypsy harem costume as brief and transparent as... leaving practically nothing to the imagination, one veil after another dropping... wiggling her rump... in perfect view of anyone who stopped to look at her.

I've gone to hell in a hand basket.

Tyler Hamilton couldn't agree more, spotting her by chance as he walked to his car... Good God! She's gone off the deep end - gone straight to hell in a hand basket!   His discerning eye took in her form, her femininity on display for any and all who would... "I am going to blister your arse!" he muttered. "I am going to make you regret that bit of..." Displaying yourself... displaying what is mine. Like a harlot advertising her wares... like a wanton woman looking for a cock... looking for... like a whore!

The slamming of the shop's door startled her, icy shivers suddenly causing goose bumps to raise on her arms. Her heart skipped several beats when she eyed him coming toward her, his gait full of purpose, the glare on his face giving her pause. What is he doing in Plymouth? I thought he was still in London. I thought...   Foolish pride made her pose... turning to expose half a bared cheek to his gaze. In the midst of crisis, she assumed a provocative stance, daring him... waving a red flag in front of a bull...

Arching a brow, he stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest ...only so that I don't haul you... over my lap in front of god and company...   and stared her down.

"I'm sure you're disappointed in me," she smiled though there was a slight tremor in her voice.

"Get your arse out of that window and put your clothes on... NOW!"

"You can't order me around," Michaela smirked, then squealed when he pulled her to his side and landed one sharp and stinging spank to her half-exposed bottom cheeks.

"Your clothes," he snarled through clenched teeth. "Now!"

She scurried to dress, unsure why she was obeying... frightened... excited... I hate you! I...

"I bet you've missed me," she continued the false bravado, taunting as he gripped her arm, pulling her to his car. "I bet you've missed my warm thighs... my heat... the taste of me," she heard herself say and gasped, instantly appalled at the crudeness of her words.

Tyler's blood boiled... he concentrated on breathing... one breath at a time... getting his temper under control... You will pay for that wanton display... and pay dearly, my sweet Freya.   "Don't say another word," he warned when he could speak without shouting.

As soon as they arrived at his home, he pushed her against the back of the door, kissing her so hard he bruised her lips. He yanked her skirt up and her knickers down and without a word of warning, penetrated... pushed... took... then turned, pulling her to his chest. Fully engorged inside her heat, his hands slapped her bottom cheeks... sharply... stinging... until she peaked.

Collapsing on his chest, she sobbed, her cries morphing to sighs, her indignant squeals changing to satisfied moans. Holding her, he turned again, pushing her back against the door, still thrusting... gently... letting her regain her breath. As her trembling eased and her breath returned, he unsheathed himself and dragged her into the bedroom, dropping her to the bed and flipping her onto her belly.

Still enraged, he seized her arm and roughly pulled her across his lap, ignoring her shrieking protests. Eyeing the quivering target, he gripped her waist with one hand and rested the other on the curve of a bottom cheek. "Why are you going to be punished, Freya?" he asked in a surprisingly calm voice though his heart pounded. "Why do I have to spank your bare bottom?"

"Because... because you're a barbarian!" she yelled, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Wrong answer," he replied, his grin feral as he rubbed her sweet cheeks.

"Because... because you didn't like what I did," she gasped as he delivered one very firm smack.

"Correct," he agreed. "And then there's your cheeky attitude and your sassy mouth and your manners..." Gripping her firmly, he raised his hand over her clenching bottom. "And your willful ways..." It was such a rush... an adrenaline high... the intoxication of power... to have this beautiful, imperious woman upended over his knee. It was a perfect moment... and he was going to enjoy each and every one that followed.

For several long minutes the room echoed with the unmistakable sounds of a bare-bottomed spanking and Michaela's desperate cries. Her body twisted and writhed, her pleas unheeded as she struggled. Finally exhausted, she lay limp as the harsh burning spanks rained down. Out of breath, she barely whimpered when Tyler lifted his hand.

Turning her head to look back at him, she choked on a breath and begged. "Tyler... please... please don't spank me anymore!"

"I'm not going to spank you anymore, Freya," he said softly, one hand caressing the curve of a heated and very chastised cheek. "Now, I'm going to fuck you... very hard."

He had spanked her because she had denied him... flipped her onto the bed and brought her to her knees, took what he wanted... how he wanted it... thrusting between her thighs, because he could... because he wanted to take... to rule... to master her... to dominate.

"Do you like this, Freya?" he panted as he plunged in and out of her, "Is this good, my beauty? Can you feel me fucking you so sweetly... so thoroughly... claiming you? Can you?" his voice rose. "Can you?" he shouted.

She hummed... her body sensate... pulsating... throbbing... Lifting her hips, she backed into him, meeting his thrusts, her bottom burning as his body slapped against her... flesh on flesh... burning... searing slaps...

As suddenly as he had entered her, he withdrew... his penis tracing up... then down the cleft of her buttocks... lingering... rubbing gently at her pinked opening, teasing her... teasing himself... then thrust deeply into her once again. The air was thick with the musk of their union, skin glowing with sweat and semen and a hint of lavender. When she finally collapsed under him, her voice was colored by their passion... torn between want and need... her secret fantasies brought to fruition.

"Tyler..." she murmured, unable to say more.

"My Freya," he whispered in answer.

~ End Part Seven ~

| Go to - Part Eight |

Or, back to Spanking Fiction - Main Menu.