Crossing the Lines (36 page)

Give me a whip, you fucking bully.
She’d whip him twice for every time he hit Jay, and a third time for every insult to Henry.

“I thought I saw something that belonged to me on the stairs.”

Henry’s hand tightened on her back. “You were mistaken, I’m sure, as there’s nothing here that belongs to you.”

“No.” Cal spat the word. “Only stolen property and a kitten who imagines herself a lion. Your pet needs corrective training, Henry. A session upstairs will take care of the matter. I’ll demonstrate, if you haven’t the stomach for it.”

“Corrective training?” William scoffed as he stepped alongside Henry. “The girl what, said a few words and accidentally caught your eyes? A minor infraction. The attention probably flustered her. She’s little more than a child here.”

“All the more reason to correct her harshly before she develops bad habits. A proper submissive is obedient above all else.” Cal thrust his arm out, his finger pointing at her. “She looked me in the eye, bold as brass, and insisted
I
move out of
her
way. If her behavior isn’t corrected now, it shows a blatant disregard for the rules of this establishment.”

“You’ve had run-ins with the rules a time or two yourself, Cal.” William’s sly tone insinuated all sorts of things.

But whatever Cal had done, even the things he’d done to Jay, his behavior didn’t excuse or erase hers. She’d chosen to break the rules, and someone had to answer for that. Either she submitted to Henry’s punishment, or Henry submitted to the club’s judgment because he’d vouched for her conduct. His personal ethics wouldn’t permit less.

“And she doesn’t owe her submission to you,” William added. “It’s a courtesy only.”

He sounded as if he enjoyed goading the jackass. She approved.

Cal dismissed William’s words with a wave. “She owes it to every dom she meets in this establishment to be silent and respectful. Or would you propose we have the inmates run the asylum?”

“They already do, Cal.” Henry’s voice was quiet but firm. “What you fail to understand, what you’ve always failed to understand, is that their submission is a gift. It can be revoked at any time, with the utterance of a single word. Those who don’t recognize that are not dominants but abusers.”

“Slander,” Cal all but shouted. “You’ve led a campaign against me for years, Henry. Perhaps your kitten isn’t so innocent. You set her on me deliberately, hoping to provoke some infraction from me you could take to the board. It didn’t work out as you hoped, though, did it?”

“Often the ones who see such plots lurking are the ones most familiar with their uses.”

Cal smiled, a thoroughly insincere expression. “Quit stalling, Henry. You know what I want to see. I demand satisfaction for the insult.”

Had Henry been stalling? That didn’t seem like him, and yet talking to Cal wasn’t necessary. It wouldn’t change his mind. She’d already agreed to accept her punishment.

“Of course, Cal. And you’ll have it.”

“Upstairs, then.”

“No. Here.” Henry still stroked her spine. Standing next to him, enveloped in his touch and scent, calmed her fears. She’d bet his touch calmed Jay, too.

Oh. Of course. Henry would stall because he cared more about making sure they were all right than placating the jackass.

“Upstairs,” Cal repeated. “I’d prefer to see her on an x-frame. Say, twenty lashes? I have a lovely coachwhip.”

A whip to split her skin, to leave her a sobbing wreck as he’d done to Jay. Disgust and panic curdled in her stomach. An objection from her would undermine Henry’s authority. She had to let him handle it. Trust him.

“Here, or not at all, Cal. I’ll accept a suspension of privileges before I let you tie an unprepared submissive to a frame and whip her bloody. I’ve seen the results of your handiwork before.”

William jumped in. “Surely bent over a chair here would be suitable enough. A heavy flogger, perhaps? Buffalo?”

Henry hadn’t yet used the one in his bedroom on her. What aroused her at home sickened her now. Not a flogger, not her suede or any other. Not with the jackass watching her.

“No.” Henry shook his head. “I’ve plans for her, and I won’t have her first experience with a buffalo flogger associated with punishment in her mind. It sets a bad precedent and instills a fear of trying new things.”

“A riding crop?” William’s continued suggestions made her wish he’d stop. “The sting is short but sharp, certainly an appropriate punishment for a moment’s lapse.”

She trembled in fear. Henry had promised never to use the crop on her again, but that was for pleasure and this was for pain and maybe he’d have to do it anyway.

“No, not the crop, either,” Henry answered. “The short sting teaches her nothing and it’s too easy to mark her with it. She’s quite fair.”

He breathed deeply, his chest rising against hers. A man at a decision point. Cal wouldn’t wait much longer, and Henry would have to choose whatever punishment he found least offensive to himself and least damaging to her.

“She’ll receive a spanking. Ten strokes. Her actions were those of a defiant child, and her punishment reflects that. She’s familiar enough with my touch that fear will not distract her from her corrective instruction. Because the goal, of course, is not to make her fear me but to obey me.” Henry gave a pointed glance to the obnoxious jackass. “If certain others cannot understand that lesson, they do not deserve the trust and affection of trained submissives.”

“Pathetic.” Cal’s tone made his sneer obvious. “No wonder they run wild, if that’s the sort of so-called dominance you provide.”

“Think what you like, Cal. The responsibility to punish her is mine, and I will fulfill that duty. If you choose to take issue with how I do so, ask the board to cite me for it.” He removed his hand from her back. “I’ll need a moment for instruction and positioning.”

His voice changed, softened, as he looked down. “Jay. Up, my boy.”

Jay obeyed. He’d stand at Henry’s command even if his legs were broken. He was still pale, though, his eyes wide and his face vacant.

“Alice. Follow.” Henry took Jay by the hand.

She followed along behind, her head down. She ought to seem chastened, she supposed, not angry at the whole situation. Henry led them to a bench seat and placed Jay in a waiting pose on the floor in front. Then he sat, knees spread, and called to her.

“Come here, Alice.” He took her hands, guiding her to stand between his legs. “Look at me, please.”

Odd. Backward. Henry’s face didn’t belong below her own.

“Cal implied he saw you both on the stairs. Did you go upstairs, Alice?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you do that, Alice?” He kept his voice neutral, but their action must’ve confused him. Jay wouldn’t have revisited that floor on a whim.

“The bathrooms on this floor were in use, sir, and Jay didn’t want us to dawdle.”

Only after she’d said it, after the muscle twitched in Henry’s cheek, did she want to kick herself for echoing his instructions to them. In attempting to defend Jay, she’d made Henry keenly aware that trying to do what he’d asked of them had brought them to Cal’s attention.
Fuck
.

Henry closed his eyes, briefly. “And it was when you returned to this floor that you encountered Cal?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you looked him in the eye and spoke to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Should you have done that, Alice?”

“No, sir.”

“No. Tell me, in your own words, what you’ve done wrong tonight.”

She’d let that man taunt Jay. Hadn’t taken the chance to kick him to the ground and stomp on his balls.

“I shouldn’t have strayed by going up the stairs without asking your permission. I shouldn’t have spoken to another dominant. I shouldn’t have challenged him with my eyes.”

“Thank you, Alice.”

Henry reached for the sides of her panties, and she barely managed to avoid flinching as his intent revealed itself. “Ten strokes, on your bare bottom, will remind you to avoid such childish behavior in the future. I don’t expect you’ll find the experience arousing, but should you do so, you are not to come. You’ll count after each stroke, loudly enough for the man you’ve offended to hear. You may cry out as needed. Do not hide your pain out of misplaced stubbornness or pride. You have none now, do you understand?”

She offered mechanical, empty agreement, her mouth dry. “I understand, sir.”

Courage deserted her. Exposure disturbed her more than she’d expected. She fought the urge to cover herself as Henry lowered her panties to her thighs.

“A true blonde? What a novelty. Is that why you don’t shave her smooth?”

She refused to give Cal her attention. Only Henry mattered. But prickling awareness crawled along her nerves. A dozen people or more hovered on the periphery. William, in his familiar dress slacks, stood a few feet to Henry’s right.

Probably not the show Henry had wanted to give him. But was it the sort he’d enjoy? Discomfort nagged at her. She was Henry’s good girl. His eager pupil. Proud to be shown off with Jay. Not to be disciplined, to have made a bad impression with Henry’s friend.

Henry turned her over his left leg and clamped his right leg behind her thighs. He pressed her back flat. Her fingers grazed the floor. Her head hung down. Jay, still vacant-eyed, knelt alongside Henry’s feet. He wouldn’t want to see this. Not here.

I’m so sorry, Jay.

Henry’s left arm formed a solid weight on her back, his elbow resting between her shoulder blades, his forearm running down her spine, holding her in place.

The spanking wouldn’t hurt too badly. She’d been turned over Henry’s knee before and felt his hand turn her skin red. She’d taken more pain from the suede flogger and reveled in it.

But what struck her now wasn’t simply the weight of his hand or the sting it left behind as she choked out, “One!” in response to his demand that she count.

This was punishment. Her spanking wasn’t a prelude to soothing intimacy or a good hard fuck. It didn’t further bonds of trust or affection.

Their games at home didn’t revolve around punishment. She and Jay rarely misbehaved, and Henry had little desire to punish them when they did. Correct them with his voice, yes. But with force? No. That sort of dominance wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t what any of them desired.

And what they did at home stayed private. Here, as she called out, “Two!” in an unrecognizable voice, people murmured around her. They commented on Henry’s technique and on the red color blooming on both sides of her buttocks. Questioned the offense she’d committed. Used her as a training exercise, a reminder to behave.

Cal’s shiny shoes circled around her, around Jay, a danger she could do nothing about.

Henry’s hand fell again, and she stuttered. “Th-three.”

As she counted four and five, she cried for no reason. Irrational tears. The spanking didn’t hurt that much. She could take it.

Her body felt differently, and her mind spun in a jumbled mess. She hadn’t angered Henry or disappointed him. He’d told her so himself. But whatever his words, his hand bore the weight of judgment. Feeling became everything. Nothing existed but the short sting and the long burn and the way her ass throbbed with pain.

She stumbled through counting six and seven and for one panicked moment couldn’t remember the word for eight.

She’d disappointed Henry. She’d let Jay be hurt. She deserved this punishment. She should be grateful for this punishment. If she took it well, Henry wouldn’t end their contract.

“Nine.”

He wouldn’t, would he?

“Ten.”

He might.

She sobbed with a child’s lack of control, unable to breathe through her nose and forced to an openmouthed pant. Fucking pathetic. Snot stuffing her nose and tears leaving an itchy trail to her hairline and everyone watching her failure. Dangling like a sack, Henry’s thigh a bar under her stomach. He was right to be disappointed in her. Disgusted with her.

The murmurs around the room thinned. Behind her, Henry’s friend William said, “Oh, well done. She colors beautifully.”

Henry didn’t respond. She struggled to raise her head. Henry’s elbow dug into her shoulder blades, and she emerged face to groin with
that man
.