Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) (8 page)

No.  He makes
me a woman again.  I always pegged it down to being Uncle Sam’s
influence.  The door-opening and meal-ordering.  The taking-charge,
be it in the bedroom or over the day’s activities... all of it, tiny signs that
he was in control.  Not me.

And I liked
it.  For the weekends we were together, I reveled in being with him. 
But I’m at Blue Ridge now.  Full-time.  Probably forever!  Could
I endure what Nate wants for all time? 

I guess we’ll find
out.

Despite my nerves,
my body quivers in reaction to his presence.  His clothing is simple,
practical for the ranch but the lack of polish does something to my
insides.  Jeans cover his bottom half; a blue T-shirt covers his torso and
the bandages beneath.  Even the slogan on his shirt is forceful. 
Telling me to just do it, I whisper, “Four times.”

“Good girl,” he
murmurs and then, pats his knee.  “I want you to rest your weight on my
lap.  Bend over and settle yourself until you’re as comfortable as can
be.”

My legs are still
quivering as I stand and step towards his side.  I bend my knees and lower
myself forward until my chest and torso are leaning against the hard
muscularity of his lap.  Ironically, even though he’s seen me naked a
thousand times, I’m unbearably relieved he allowed me to keep on my
shirt.  Pressing my weight on to my hands, I wiggle until I’m more
comfortable and then, blowing out a breath, revert to stillness. 

He sits up; I can
feel the play of his muscles as I’m jerked a little thanks to his
movements.  He bends over me, so close I can feel the brush of his breath
against my ear.  “If I thought you were trying to tease, Marina, that
would mean another punishment.  You do
not
tease
me
.”

My eyes widen at
his statement and I turn my head to the side to look at him.  “I wasn’t.”

“I know.  I’m
just saying.  Educating you for future reference.”

I swallow. 
“Okay.”

He sits back but
his hands wrap around my side so that he takes me with him, dragging me so my
legs settle over the armrest and my head shares the same support on the
opposite side.  His prosthetic wedges me in place on his knee by gripping
my waist.  I guess so I can’t fall off.

Feeling more
comfortable, in the physical sense, I relax a little then tense when his hand
roams over the length of my bared thighs.  Back and forth, back and
forth.  Callused fingers scrape against delicate flesh, making the tiny
hairs rise and gooseflesh quiver over me in great waves.  Despite myself,
the delicacy of his touch has heat flooding my veins and I know soon, my pussy
will start to slicken with cream.

I don’t know if
the idea mortifies me or arouses me.  My confusion protects me for a few
seconds as his hand skims upwards, dragging my T-shirt higher until my butt is
on display.  His hand tugs at the waistband of my panties and he drags
them down so that my ass is completely bare and even though he’s seen my butt
before, it still puts me on edge.  Something he soothes, because he does
the same here, rubbing the flesh, dragging his workman’s hand over my
smooth-as-silk skin. 

He lulls me into a
false sense of security, because this,
this
is nice.  Real nice. 
Almost soothing.  And just as I relax that little bit more, his hand
lifts, I feel a slight gust of air and then
bang
.  Okay, not bang,
but still.  Ouch!

“Fuck,” I grit
out, shocked despite myself at the harshness of his hit.  The slap of my
flesh against his hand hurt more than I imagined.  It stings.  My
hand arcs back of its own volition and hovers over my butt, before touching the
soft skin and feeling a gentle heat from the friction of the smack.

He hums under his
breath as he grabs my hand.  “Firstly, I told you not to swear. 
Secondly, don’t reach back; keep your hands in front of you.  You need to
be punished for the curse word and if you reach back again, you’ll need to be
punished for that.  We’ll start with three spanks per infraction. 
How many does that make, Marina?”

I bite my lip at
the answer. 

Fourteen more
stinging slaps?  It wasn’t a gentle pat, a soft smack, it was hard. 
Hard enough to have my body jerking forward.  Not over the other side of
the armrest.  But still, a good few inches!

“Marina?”

“Fourteen- fifteen
in total,” I grit out.

“Yes.  Every
day, we’ll increase this number, because you’ll be learning on a daily
basis.  Every time you do something I punish you for, you should remember
and not do it again.  Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Nate.”

“Good.  Say
my name, remember who’s doing this to you, Marina.  Me.  Nobody else,
because nobody else has power over you.”  His words have a profound effect
on the pair of us.  They have me sucking in a breath and he... well, let’s
just say something hard starts to prod me in the belly.

That he’s excited
has my pussy heating once again.  In reaction to the slap, it had cooled
down a little, but that faint ridge of his erection rubbing against my softness
through the denim... well, it’s perked me right up.   I’m not the
only one affected.  I’m not alone here.

And that he wants
me to call him by his name reassures me even more.  I don’t want to call
him Sir or Master.  He’s Nate to me.  Always has been.  Always
will be.

“Count each one as
I spank you.”

“Yes, Nate.”

A hard tap has me
stuttering, “Two.”  My arm jolts with the need to reach back, but I manage
to contain it by digging my nails into the armrest. 

As the sound of
skin clapping against skin echoes around the room, I gasp out, “Four.”

With my back to
him, I’m unprepared for every hit and each time he smacks my butt, it comes as
a shock.  The sheer power in the slap still surprises me.

 By the time
I’m gasping out, “Eight!” I feel like my butt is glowing.  It stings like
a bitch.  Not sore, not even painful, just a weird burn.  A strange
kind of heat that I’m ashamed to admit is both distressing and a turn on. 

My hips have
started to jerk as tender flesh is tormented again and again, because he isn’t
moving around, dispersing the sting.  Just on the flat of my ass so that
all day, whenever I sit down, I’ll remember my punishment.

Fuck, that I even
understand why he’s doing what he’s doing tells me I’m in hot water.

And Christ, I like
it.

My pussy is
hot.  Molten.  My clit wants attention.  It’s on the brink of
demanding it, because each time he spanks, I want to beg him to touch me. 
Only by digging my teeth down into my bottom lip between spanks, am I not
saying a word.  It’s a point of pride.  He might want me to beg, but
I won’t.  Not yet, at any rate, I concede with a roll of my eyes at my own
failings.

But even as I
acknowledge my own arousal, tears start to sting my eyes.  I flutter them
away, refusing to cry, but the need to sob out my confusion and arousal is even
harder than remaining in place.  In a way, it’s like denying an
orgasm.  I need the release, a release of the emotional kind.

“Ten!” I squeal
and hiss.  Every single time, his hand returns to smooth over the spanked
flesh of my butt, adding to the hypersensitivity in a way that has every tiny
hair on my body standing to attention. 

Every part of me
relaxes into the armrest for a second, knowing the next hit won’t be for a
little while longer. 

The tension
running around my muscles makes me feel like I’ve been on a ten mile run and
considering I’m breathing like I’ve been doing just that, I can honestly say,
I’m tired.  As well as horny.

Dammit.

Knowing that soon
he’ll spank me, I tense a little, preparing myself for the next one and then he
shocks me.  The flat of his hand moves down over the apple of my butt and
slides over the crack.  Down, down until his fingers curl inward and touch
wet, hot flesh.

A cry escapes
me.  No amount of lip biting can stop it.  I sag once more into the
armrest, my sweaty forehead rubbing against the cotton fabric.  His
fingers dip inside my cunt, spreading the entrance to my body before sliding
down to rub my clit.  Another cry and my hips start to wiggle.  The
instant they do, he pulls away.

“No!” I shout,
unable to help myself.

“No?” he
questions, his voice dangerously low and the instant I hear it, register the
tone, it’s like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over me.

“No, Nate. 
Please.  Please, keep on touching me.”

“Feel good, does
it?” he asks.

“Yes, Nate.”

Out of nowhere,
the next spank comes.  I forget to shriek out the number in shock at the
hit.  “I decide when and if you can have pleasure.  And you’re turned
on, Marina.  You can’t hide it.  This...” He runs his hand over the
sore flesh of my butt.  “...you like it.  You need it and that’s your
lesson for today.  As is the fact if you forget to count a spank, it’s
null and void.”

Shit.  Not
only is the lower half of my body on fire from need, it’s also stinging and I
just added to the number.

“Eleven,” I squeak
as his hand returns bringing more discomfort than ever with the force.  I
start to wriggle on his lap, I can’t help it.  The ache has returned,
intensifying with the admission of my arousal to Nate. 

He grips a hold of
my hip and says, “Keep still.  Or I’ll hurt you more than I mean to.”

Ha!  More
than he means to?  That means this isn’t Nate hitting at his full
potential?  Good God!

“Twelve!” I
shriek.

“Thirteen,” I
stutter, pressing my forehead into the armrest. 

The strength
behind each spank is astonishing.  This is no faint tap.  A slight
smack or pat on the behind.  He’s hitting me, literally hitting me with
the flat of his hand.  And it fucking hurts, especially when he hits the
same goddamn place over and over.

More tears arrive,
but I force them away, knowing this is the last one and I welcome it like a
starving man welcomes a feast.  

“Fourteen.” 

Relief swims
through me, knowing it’s over for today is bliss in itself.  I sag down
into his lap and once again, go through the discomfort of his fingers prodding
sore flesh with their delicate butterfly-brush over the curve of my behind.

“Good girl,
Marina.  Get back on your knees.”

His direction is
gentle and he helps me stand even though I know it must tug and pull at his
wounds.  My legs are shaky again and my fall to the floor is as graceless
as earlier.  My butt is stinging like a bitch and having my heels dig into
the soft flesh isn’t making it any more comfortable.

I sit there,
feeling a bit like a limp noodle.  I can’t believe how much that took out
of me.  It wasn’t the pain, because if I’m honest, it wasn’t
pain
per
se.  It was just uncomfortable. 
Very
uncomfortable.

And this is just
the start.

I’m not
stupid.  I know where this will go.  Next, it will be a ruler, then a
flogger and then God knows what.  And I’ll have to take it.  Every
slap, with whatever instrument, I’ll have to just count aloud how many times he
marks me.

God help me, the
idea isn’t repulsive. 

Nate jolts me out
of my thoughts by leaning forward and bursting into my personal space. 
Within an inch of my face, he shocks me by pressing a kiss to my
forehead.  I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. 
Although, even that pathetic display of affection feels like a great, whopping
hug.

Feeling proud of
myself and not really understanding why, I sit up a little straighter. 

His hand cups my
cheek and his thumb brushes along the sharp curve of my cheekbone.  The
butterfly tickle has a little shiver tingling down my spine.  “I can see
tears here, Marina.  But you didn’t cry, did you?”

“N-no, Nate. 
I didn’t.”

Oh God, he isn’t
going to tell me I
can’t
cry, is he? 

Anxiety squats in
my belly, taking root there until he murmurs, “You should have done.  In
future, don’t hold back.  It’s good for you.  You need the
release.  Just like, if you need to cry out from the pain, you do
that.  This is natural, honey.  You need to let it out.  You’ll
learn that with time.”

His use of the
word ‘honey’ has happiness unfurling through me.  It wouldn’t shock me if
I were literally glowing with joy at his endearment, at his gentle touch of his
fingers to my face. 

“Stand up and take
a look in the mirror,” he urges me. 

I grip his thigh
to help haul me on to my feet and feeling punch-drunk, stagger over to the
mirror.  Turning around, I raise the hem of my shirt and peek over my
shoulder.

With memories of
Rosalie’s glowing ass after her session with the corporate lawyer, I’d expected
something similar.  It’s pink.  No bruises.  No hand
marks.  Almost like the skin has chafed, it’s a little raised but nothing
terrible.