Her Old-Fashioned Boss (17 page)

He raised a brow. “Well, since this is my bedroom, I didn’t really see the need to knock. And you have two seconds to get that butt back into bed.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll be adding this infraction to the others and it’s adding up to a very big punishment for you, young lady.”

“Does that mean I get a session over the spanking bench?” she said sassily.

“Bed. Now.”

She scrambled to obey him, unable to avoid the thundering crack of his palm against her bottom.

“Roarke, I really do feel better,” she said as Sam brought in a tray of food.

Roarke stared at her before plucking her up into his arms. He then sat back on the bed with her on his lap. He kissed her forehead as Sam placed the tray on the bedside table.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but a few short hours ago you were in the hospital attached to the drip, so you’re going to take it easy for the next few days. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling better, you can get up for a bit, okay?”

She sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get him to bend further. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He reached over and grabbed a sandwich, holding it up to her mouth. “Eat.”

“I can feed myself.”

He didn’t say a word, just held the sandwich up and she knew he was stubborn enough to keep them there all day if he had too.

“What’s in it?” she asked suspiciously. She knew she had to eat, the doctor had given her a rather stern lecture on her low body weight, but she didn’t eat bread. And she hated not knowing what was in something. Microwave meals were different; they came with a calorie count on the packet.

“Lettuce, tomato and ham with a bit of mayonnaise. And you will eat it,” Sam told her forcefully.

“I don’t really like bread, I think I’ll just eat the insides,” she said.

“Ava,” Roarke growled.

Tears filled her eyes. God, why couldn’t she just eat the sandwich? She took a tentative bite.

“Good girl,” Roarke told her, immediately making her feel warm inside with his praised. “How about one half of a sandwich and then you can just eat what you like.”

Okay, she could do that. She hoped. She managed half a sandwich and some of the insides of some others as well as some strawberries and grapes before she’d had her fill.

Sam cleared away the plates, coming back to join them on the bed. Ava snuggled down between them.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” she asked Roarke, worried she was keeping him from his job.

He shook his head. “I cleared my calendar for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She clasped her hands together, suddenly feeling very nervous. “I-I have something I need to tell you. Something I really don’t want to talk about but you need to know.”

Both men took a hand each, squeezing tight, lending her their support. Warmth filled her insides, giving her the courage to continue.

“God, where do I start?” she muttered. “I had a really happy childhood. My parents were wonderful, loving, supportive. We didn’t have a lot, but I was loved. Then when I was ten, I was at the next door neighbors when the police knocked at the door. They’d been in a car accident. Both of them died.”

She took a shuddering breath and Roarke pulled her back onto his lap, holding her close, one arm surrounding Sam’s shoulders, drawing him into their circle.

“We didn’t have any family, so I ended up in foster homes. Some were all right.” She shuddered. “Some weren’t.”

Roarke tensed and she went on hastily. “It’s okay, nothing really bad happened. Mostly, I was just ignored. There was one man, he was, well, I didn’t like the way he looked at me. I was fifteen by then. One day he tried to corner me and I, well, I kneed him in the nuts and took off. The authorities found me and sent me to yet a different home. That last one wasn’t so bad. That’s where I met McKenna. She was a foster child too. We stuck together. As soon as we turned eighteen, we left. The next year we met Asia. She used to come into the bar where McKenna worked and the three of us hit it off. She introduced us to Casey, who she’d known for years. And well, we became best friends. Family.”

She took a shuddering breath. “When I was in the foster homes, I felt so out of control of my life. So miserable. I used to eat a lot of junk food and I put on weight. Other kids used to tease me, I often wondered if that was why no one ever kept me, because I ate them out of house and home.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam whispered, cuddling her close.

Ava shrugged. She didn’t want their pity. “I kept looking in the mirror and I was so disgusted with myself. There was an older girl in one of the homes. She was always going on about this diet and that diet, so I asked her to help me. She showed me how to count calories, how to make better choices. The more weight I lost, the more compliments I got, you know? I became a bit obsessed.”

“You were starved for some positive reinforcement,” Roarke said.

“I guess so. Anyway, one day at work I collapsed, and I had no health insurance. The girls sat me down, told me how worried they were about me, how they wanted to eat me more and they would get me some help if I needed it. They cried. They actually cried. I felt so awful that I tried to get things under control myself. And I did manage to put on some weight. But I seem to have these lingering issues.

 “Like what?” Roarke asked

“I-I still have trouble eating some things. Like bread and dairy. Going out to eat is especially bad. I don’t ever want to be that fat kid again. I-I know there’s more to it than a fear of being overweight but I can’t help the way I think. And I well, God this is hard, have you ever heard of chewing and spitting?”

“You mean bulimia?” Roarke asked.

Shuddering, she shook her head. “No. I hate spewing, I could never be bulimic. No, chewing and spitting is where you chew on some food but you don’t swallow, instead you spit it out.”

Roarke drew her face up, staring down at her steadily. She searched for some sign of disgust, but all she saw was concern.

“Are you saying you do this?”

“Sometimes. W-when I’m struggling with something.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Well, for instance, when I lost my job and I was scared about what I would do. I-I went to the bakery and got some cream buns, only I didn’t eat them.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sam breathed.

“Do your friends know about this?” Roarke asked.

Tears filled her eyes. “No. I’m too ashamed to tell them.”

Sam kissed her cheeks, licking up her tears. “Honey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You have to know that your friends wouldn’t think less of you for this.”

“I know,” she cried. “But they think I’m better now, that I’m stronger. They’ve done so much for me, what if they get sick of me? What if you think I’m more trouble than I’m worth? I’m so fucked up!”

Roarke pushed her back slightly so he could cup her cheeks. “I don’t want you to ever speak about yourself like that again, understand me?” he growled. “You are not fucked up. Is this why you didn’t want to tell us, because you thought we’d turn away from you? That we’d be disgusted by you?”

“Why would you want me when you could have someone who’s not fucked up?”

“I warned you.” Roarke rolled her towards him and smacked her on the butt four times. Hard.

“Hey!” she cried.

“Hush,” he told her. “Listen to me, now. Because I don’t want to repeat myself. Loving someone does not mean that you only want to be with them in the good times. It doesn’t mean only loving them when things are easy. Loving someone means accepting all of them. It means being there, always. No one is perfect, little one. Certainly not me and Sam. We’ve both got issues. Are you going to run away as soon as the going gets tough with one of our problems?”

Shame suffused her. “Of course not.”

“Then why would you expect us or your friends to do the same? You’ve got to have more faith in us than that,” he reprimanded her.

She nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

It all became too much, she’d finally confessed her secret and they were still here, more than that, they were supporting her, holding her, sticking by her. Burying her head in Roarke’s chest she started sobbing.

He held her close, both he and Sam whispering words of comfort until she fell asleep.

*****

Ava lay on the sofa, her head on Sam’s lap as Roarke sat reading something on his tablet. Roarke had agreed to let her up for a while as long as she didn’t do anything more strenuous than lie on the couch and let them pamper her.

It wasn’t a hard promise to make, she felt overwrought, exhausted.

“When did you first start feeling bad about your body?” Roarke asked her.

“Umm, maybe when I was around fourteen,” she answered.

“And when did you start restricting your food intake?”

“I was about sixteen. I just cut down a bit at first but once I lost some weight and people started to compliment me, well, I kind of got addicted.”

“From what you've said, losing weight became like a high, am I right? You got positive reinforcement for the weight loss, so you continued until it became extreme.”

“Yes. Kind of sad, right?”

He shook his head. “No, sweetie. It's in our natures to want praise and affection.”

“I just took it to another level. Even now, there are times where I get scared about putting on weight, where I find myself fighting the urge to restrict how much I eat. I have problems eating things I haven't prepared myself.”

Sam snorted. “We've noticed.”

She flushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I know it’s not my cooking, I am a spectacular chef.”

“Yep.” Roarke agreed. “His Mac and cheese is the best I've ever tasted. Of course, there was that time he decided tried cooking duck. I’ve never been so ill.”

“That was a one off,” Sam protested.

She smiled.

“Little one, no matter your size we only want you happy and healthy. I'm so proud of you for how far you came by yourself, but it’s time to lean on us now. We're here for you. We want to help you.”

“Hell, we need too,” Sam interjected.

Roarke nodded. “That's true.”

“I'm a lot better than I used to be. But sometimes I still want to chew and spit.”

“I know, baby. I want to help with those negative thoughts.
You can see my doctor,” Roarke said. “He should be able to find us a good therapist who specializes in eating disorders. I’ll call and make an appointment now.”

“Umm, Roarke,” Sam said.

“Yes.?”

“It’s eight in the evening, you might want to wait until the morning.”

Roarke looked up then, giving them a sheepish smile. “Yeah, right.”

“He probably won’t be able to see me straight away anyway,” she said. “And therapists cost money, I can’t really afford one at the moment.”

Roarke scowled at her. “If you think for one moment that I will not make sure you have everything you need then you are very mistaken. I will be paying for this and I don’t want to hear any arguments. All you have to concentrate on is doing what the doctor tells you to.”

Roarke put the tablet down then came to sit on the coffee table before them. He brushed her hair back from her face. “You okay, baby?” he asked tenderly.

Tears welled in her eyes but she nodded.

“Bit overwhelmed?”

She nodded again. “I just don’t want you guys to see me any differently. I’m not an invalid. I’m not going to break or anything.”

Roarke cupped her cheek. “We know, baby. We’re just feeling a bit protective at the moment, okay? I think we all need a bit of time to get used to this.”

“You know, the only time I don’t think about my body or food is when we’re having sex or playing. Sometimes I still feel a bit uncomfortable at being naked in front of you both, but once we get into it, well, my body just takes over. Bit weird considering I seem to overthink everything else.”

“Because giving yourself over to me means you don’t have to think. You don’t have to do anything except what I ask of you.”

“Ask?” She snorted.

Roarke’s lips quirked. “All right, order. And it’s because you trust us. You trust me not to harm you and you trust Sam to always be there for you. Although on the surface it may seem that the sub gives all of her or his control over to their Dom, it’s actually the sub who has the ultimate control. A sub decides what they do and don’t want to do. They can stop the play at any time.”

“When I give myself over to Roarke,” Sam interjected. “I don’t worry about anything but pleasing him. All my worries, my stress disappears. If I’m only thinking about pleasing Roarke then I can’t be worrying about everything else.”

She nodded. That had been her experience so far.

“I want you to start a journal and write down your feelings around food and your body. Each night, you’re going to read to Sam and I before bed. Not all of it. Just what you want to share. Okay?”

“I can do that.”

“Sam and I were frantic this morning. I don’t ever want to worry over you like that again.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know. But I want you to let us know if you go anywhere, okay? Not because I want to control your every movement, but because I worry about you. And we will do the same.”

That sounded fair enough.

“No skipping meals, honey. All right?”

“All right.”

“If you’re having negative thoughts about yourself or you feel like chewing and spitting then I want you to find one of us immediately, promise?”

“Yes. I will. I promise.”

“Good. Everything will be fine, little one. I’ll make sure of it.”

*****

As it turned out, they couldn’t get an appointment with Roarke’s doctor until next week. It didn’t take long until Ava was completely bored with her confinement to the bed or the couch. Climbing out of bed three days after she’d collapsed, she was determined to show her men that she was okay.

They’d taken such great care of her, catering to her every whim, even hiring her DVDs and setting up a TV in the bedroom for her. Casey, McKenna and Asia had all been to see her at least once. McKenna had been horribly disappointed when Roarke refused to allow her into the dungeon.