"Come here," he said softly, his voice a nightshade inching forward, casting its net and enveloping her, predicting and confirming the pain she would endure.
She remained where she was, taking short but frequent breaths, storing oxygen in her expanding lungs, knowing full well it would soon be in short supply.
"Come here," he repeated the words, his tone varying slightly from neutral to caution. "Don't make me come and get you, baby. Come here."
"No," she replied softly but firmly, words her only bravado as she stood on the other side of the bed and across from him. The distance between the bed and the door yawned like the Pacific, too much water between shores, too many waves to climb and crest and ride. If the waters would only part...
She had few moments left before his hand continued the dialogue. The tears were already building... would drop without will... would bleed for her... and would not make any difference to the man wielding the instrument of pain.
"Do you want to make it worse?" he asked, a tinge of regret seeping through.
"I don't have any reason to make it easier for you. You'll blister my bottom regardless."
"If you come to me willingly, I'd be inclined to believe that you know this spanking is well deserved."
"It is not," she murmured, surprising him by standing quietly. He had expected her to run from him or at the very least, rail at him for punishing her for something that was partly his fault.
"Just because I didn't lock them up doesn't mean you needed to touch them," he admonished, remaining calm, his voice still soft. "You knew this. I warned you this would happen if you touched them again. Now, I'm going to give you a painful reminder of how much danger you put yourself in. You could have been killed. Come here."
Approaching her, he ached when he noted how frightened she was, her body shaking as he held her. Wrapping his arms tighter around her, he lifted her to his chest and with practiced ease, pulled her pajama bottoms down and off. "This is going to hurt," he said softly, confirming what she expected.
Her body was warm to the touch, skin the texture of silk... about to be seared... Holding her to his chest, he lay on the bed for a few moments, his hands kneading her flesh, his palms memorizing the smoothness of her butt, the firm round globes only one of the many sensual pleasures her body gave him. It was hard to do what had to be done, but he was convinced this was the only way.
She lay quiet and unresisting as he caressed her, expressing his love... his sorrow... He reminded her of how important she was to him, how lucky she was that he had caught her before she accidentally shot herself, and that she would remember this punishment and never touch a gun again.
She never heard a word he said.
His voice washed over her... his words mere sounds... his breath warm on her hair.
The tension in her had been building since he caught her rearranging his weapons... touching them to satisfy her curiosity, not realizing she was mishandling them, her finger on the trigger, the gun pointed too close to her body...
Well honed survival instincts caused him to freeze in mid-step as he walked into the bedroom and only his self-discipline had stopped him from shouting a warning - a warning that might have startled her and made her pull the trigger. Quietly, he moved up behind her and gently pushed the gun away from her body, her finger and then her hand losing their places in the sequence of events that almost robbed her body of life... events that would have robbed his life of sanity and meaning.
"What did I tell you the last time you touched these?" he asked, his sorrow seeping through the words, determined to make her listen... and live... overriding every other emotion.
"You should have locked them up," she said quietly, her hand shaking as she pulled it away from him. "I just wanted to... touch... once. I wasn't going to..."
"I *should* have locked them up," he agreed, "and you shouldn't have touched them. You knew that." His face was filled with regret as well as warning, his arched brows and eyes a reminder of what would happen next.
Slowly, she had backed away from him.
Now, she was snuggled into his arms, his words washing over her like displaced dust particles... each separate syllable floating above her... hovering... not quite able to land. Vaguely, she remembered a warning that it would hurt and concentrated on the pain he would inflict, convinced he loved her too much to really hurt her.
"Ready?" he asked quietly, sitting up against the headboard and pulling her across his lap.
"No," she murmured and jerked when she felt his large hand rest on her bared cheeks. "No, I'm not ready. I'll never be ready."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he mourned softly, dropping a kiss to the back of her neck and then delivered a harsh and sharp stinging spank to the center of her sit spot.
"No," she whimpered as the sting radiated, its impact causing her to gasp for air. "Not fair," she choked as he rained more pain onto her bottom cheeks. "Not fair," she repeated once more as the heat began to build, the flame quickly igniting one cheek, then spreading to the other, the constant spanks unending and harsh and quickly unbearable.
In moments, she was limp across his lap, the tension that had held her muscles taut, now released as she moved out of her body. Previous spankings had been sweetly erotic, the harsher ones few and far between. She had expected this one to be like the others - mildly harsh and bearable.
She was mistaken.
The thought that she had been mere seconds from death or serious injury spurred him like nothing else. He ached at what he was doing but it didn't deter him from his goal. She wouldn't sit comfortably for several days and for certain, she would never forget this lesson.
It took a few moments to realize his hand hurt, the heel numb, palm swelling and reddened, his fingers stinging... burning. Lifting it, he knew her bottom cheeks were far worse off, the color already cherry red, heat rising... searing his hand. Without pause, he switched to a paddle that had been hidden under the mattress. It was the first time he had used one on her, his hand previously sufficient to impart the lesson.
At the first impact, a long and loud gasp escaped as her mouth opened in startled reflex, its sound evoked without thought as air was sucked in and unexpectedly crushed between vocal folds. It stung... the pool of air surrounding and blocking respiration... sudden and harsh and choking. Her next breath was sputtered and stilted, hissing valiantly and paved a fading sting as it escaped between parched lips.
Each crack of the wood on her blazing cheeks reverberated around the room, the sound louder that he had anticipated, her body weakening with each swing of his arm. He wasn't surprised that she had stopped whimpering and wiggling; he knew he had pushed her beyond her limit and that she had removed herself from the scene. Previous events in her life had caused her to learn how to separate her mind from what was happening to her body. He had to bring her back; it was urgent that she learned this lesson well.
From a great distance, she watched the spanking and the subsequent paddling. Hanging her mind upon a nail, she watched as his arm rose and fell. The sharp swats were delivered with purpose, his hand steady, the rhythm a metronome... mesmerizing her. Up... down... top... bottom... left... right... center... hard... harsh... sharp... pain.
Pain enveloped her. The punishing lesson stinging... burning... searing... Initially, she tried to concentrate on each swing of his hand, flesh meeting flesh... scorching her. Then the paddle... Shocked, her body tensed for each blow as it absorbed the previous one, waves of fire pulsating... concentric circles of heat surrounding her... her spine arched then curved down, her shoulders in gentle sway as her bottom rose and fell with each swing of his arm. The paddle... Unable to react any further... her arms went limp, her hands stilled, breath shallow... slowing. The paddle... Silent screams... no no no no no pulsed... throbbed... The paddle... her senses froze in time and space. Defense barriers slid into place... erect... the whispered mantra of self-hypnosis alive... chanted... Mentally, she disengaged.
"Baby," he murmured, his lips hot on her neck, "come back to me."
His words didn't penetrate, bouncing off... pinging against her barriers. "I need you," he whispered against her ear, his lips a soft nibble on her lobe, his breath...
She remained silent and unmoving. His warm breath tugged at her... his hand a gentle cup on the curve of her cheek, his heartbeat wildly pounding against her back as he leaned over her... Her heart responded... without guile... without guilt or shame, her defenses dropped and she listened, wondering at the long and low moaning sound, unaware it came from her.
"It's over," he lied, gently pulling her prone body onto his chest, knowing full well that the residual and long-term pain had just begun.
Her conscious mind had resisted the punishment, fighting it, but now that it was over, she was exhausted from it and far from accepting what had happened, she would still succumb to its intensity.
Throughout their relationship, she had always sought the sanctuary of his arms, especially after a sound spanking. Her tears would soak his neck and his shirt, her fist clutching the fabric... clutching him... the warmth of his chest and his embrace, her lifeline, her haven.
Now, her hands lay limp against him, eyes red and swollen, the tears already dried on her cheeks, none left to shed. "Hold onto me," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Hold onto me, sweetheart."
She remained motionless except for the shudders that sliced through her body splitting her... shredding... across... up under her ribs, weaving in and out... and down... her bottom cheeks ablaze with white heat. Caught in its vortex, her mind spiraled around the pain, candescent with color, smoldering...
Holding her to his chest, he kept his hands on her back to avoid touching the source of the heat rising up her spine. His eyes filled, the tears sluicing his cheeks, dropping on her bowed head and soaking it. He could count on one hand the number of times he had cried as an adult.
The day his mother died...
The times the woman in his arms had miscarried and they lost their child...
And now... his heart was so heavy with ache he thought it would burst... Prisms... he thought as the tears continued to flow. Shattered prisms... mirroring her hurt, her grief at what I've done... "Hold onto me, baby," he pleaded softly, his soul in silent agony, sorrow permeating his words. "Please... hold onto me. Let me comfort you; let me make you whole again. I need you alive and well... I need you, puss. Come back to me."
The words flowed... hovering... sound clouds like thick cumulous summits, heavy with emotion, heavy with shared pain. They pushed at her psyche, urging her to hear... to listen... to understand. The pain had seared her... she bowed to it... drawing it inside... absorbing it swat by burning swat... spank by stinging spank... crack by searing crack. She was numb... grief at what he had done smothered all other emotions until... she felt his tears and knew that it was over. He would never do that again.
"Come back to me," he murmured as his hand smoothed her hair, the simple motion filled with all the love he possessed.
The brief twinge of her heartstrings tightening... her crying soul quieting... her heart met his... Beat by beat... breath by breath... tear by tear... "You love me," she said in a barely audible tone, head still bowed, hands still limp.
"I love you," he affirmed, his voice matching her tone, his heart still on hold.
"Never again," she said, her voice soft but surprisingly firm as she finally lifted her head to look at him. "You will never spank me like that again."
"Never again," he swore, a vow he knew he would keep. There would be sound spankings in her future, but he also knew he could not inflict this kind of pain on her again.
She stared at him...silently absorbing his words, their meaning. Her eyes filled again, the tenderness and love in his filling her, renewing her faith in him, renewing and strengthening her love. He had done what he needed to do to ensure her life. It had hurt him as it had hurt her.
"Never again," he said with conviction. "Never again will you put your life in danger."
"I won't," she swore. "Will you spank me sweetly again... and... and love me?" she asked, catching her breath, unsure of what would happen next, her hand automatically clutching the fabric of his shirt.
"I will always love you," he smiled, the heaviness lifting, "and always spank you sweetly," he promised, his heart in sync with hers once more. All he needed was her touch, her hand reaching for him... her body wanting his... her heart needing him.
Pulling her into a tighter embrace and repositioning their bodies to keep her bottom untouched, he removed his sweats so their bodies met... flesh on flesh. He kissed her swollen eyelids, his lips moving back and forth over her skin... lightly... feather brushes... moist... heated. "I love you," he murmured as one hand gently rubbed her back and the other traced the line of her jaw. "I love you," he whispered as his breath warmed the hollow of her throat. "I need you," he groaned as his arms reached under her and he fitted his hardness inside her moist softness.
"I need you alive and whole," he told her when he held her under a cool shower spray. "I love you," his heart beat when he dried her and then applied a healing lotion to her flaming cheeks. "I love you," he affirmed once again as he wrapped her in his embrace and lay with her. "Never again...."