Authors: Natasha Knight
“The divorce must have been difficult on her.”
“She was very young, thankfully. She's the reason I survived. Once you have kids, you can't go to your room and hide under the blankets anymore.” He smiled and took a bite of his food. “Eat, Gabrielle,” he said, nodding toward her plate.
She picked up her fork and moved the pasta around.
He didn't look at her when he next spoke. “The pain won't let you go until you stop and face it.” The words weighed into her consciousness. He was right; she knew that. The only way out was through. “Is that why you're back here, what you're trying to do? This must be a painful place for you to visit.” Now he looked at her, his face soft, curious.
She nodded, feeling like a dear in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “I don’t think I can do it though,” she said. A tear slipped from each eye but she didn't move to wipe them away.
He watched them slide down her face and fall onto her lap before returning his gaze to hers. “Do you need to be punished, Gabrielle?” he said so quietly she was sure she’d misunderstood.
“What?” she asked, swallowing over the lump in her throat.
“Do you need me to punish you?” he asked.
“I don’t understand,” she said, confused.
“Nothing to understand. Eat your dinner now, we’ll talk later when we have more privacy,” he said as Luciana came to refresh their wine glasses.
“Tell me about your daughter,” she said, forcing a bite of ravioli into her mouth, trying to put the strange conversation out of her mind. “What's her name?”
“Justine,” his face lit up when he said her name. “She’s charming, clever and sweet.” He reached for his wallet and brought out a picture. “This is just a few weeks ago,” he explained. “She was in a play so she’s in period costume.”
“An actress,” Gabrielle said, the conversation lifting her spirits.
“Definitely. I’m quite proud of her.”
She noticed that he kept his eyes on her the entire time he spoke. It was as if he were trying to figure her out. They finished their meal and as he helped her stand, he said, “I meant what I said earlier. I won't judge you.”
Their eyes locked for a long time. “What did you mean about punishing me?” a voice that sounded very much like her own asked.
Chapter Three
“Let's have a drink in my room,” he said. “We can talk about that.” With his hand at the small of her back, he led her toward the apartment at the opposite end of hers.
“We're in the same building,” she remarked.
He slid the key into the lock, opened the door, and switched on the light. He gestured for her to go ahead of him.
“This is lovely,” she said, looking around the small apartment. His room was a little different in that it was more of a studio and at the back, French doors led to an enclosed patio. “I don't have the patio,” she said, opening the doors. He set a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table.
“The views here are my favorite. I could disappear here,” she said, turning to take in the panoramic view.
“I hope you won’t,” he said, holding out a glass and offering her a seat next to him. “Join me.”
She did, sipping the wine.
“I didn't realize what my wife needed until it was too late,” he began. “But I know for a fact that guilt left unpunished is like an open wound. It will fester and infect everything else around it. No living being can survive much less thrive under those conditions.”
She drank a big swallow of her wine.
“I'll punish you, if you allow me to.”
“I don't understand. Punish me how?” she asked.
“I'll give you physical pain, for example a spanking to start, to help alleviate your guilt.”
“I don't think a spanking is what I need,” she chuckled, unsure how to react to this strange conversation.
“I can use my belt if you prefer.”
She swallowed hard, but his face told her he wasn't joking.
“You're serious,” she said.
He blinked, allowing her time to process.
“I've never been spanked,” she said, surprising herself.
“You'd have a safe word.”
“What?”
“You'll choose a word to use to tell me to stop if it's too much for you,” he said, finishing the last of his wine. “You'd be safe all along knowing you can use that word if you need to, although I don't think you'll need it.”
“How do you know I won't?” This was the most bizarre conversation she'd ever had with a man.
“Although it will be your first time, it won't be mine. I will watch you closely throughout, gauge where you are, how you're reacting.”
“Did you spank your wife?” She was sorry as soon as the words left her mouth.
He exhaled and took a moment to answer. “This is about you and me, not my ex-wife.”
Was this really happening?
she wondered as she drank the last sip of her wine. He was so confident, so at ease. She didn't doubt that if she said yes, she'd experience something like she never had before. She considered him, knowing he was aroused—his pupils were already dilated, and there was no missing the erection between his legs. Her panties suddenly felt moist at the image of being taken over his knee and spanked.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
His gaze seemed to penetrate straight into her soul and all she wanted to do was say yes. She'd never met someone who had this much power over her, who forced her to be honest, to really look at herself.
“Don't be,” he said. “I understand this is probably a strange conversation if you've never done anything like this.”
She wondered if she should come clean, tell him what it was William hadn't been able to give her in the bedroom. Why what he was saying was hitting home.
“With my wife, it was erotic, not for discipline. Since our marriage ended, I've only had relationships with submissive women, women who want to be spanked erotically or agree to disciplinary spankings. My nature is dominant. I enjoy this sort of play sexually but also understand its power to heal on a non-sexual level. As children we're punished when we do something wrong but as adults, that disciplinarian figure is no longer a part of the equation for many of us.”
She took hold of her glass but didn't drink. She needed something to do with her hands while he continued.
“Everyone deals with things differently. Some of us need the role of the disciplinarian at certain moments or junctures in our lives. Punishment, in this case physical punishment, can become the catalyst to allowing us to forgive ourselves. You pay what you owe and the scales are once again balanced. You feel guilty over cheating on your husband, and you blame yourself for his leaving you. I imagine your friends and family harbor some opinions of their own,” he said.
She could only stare at him, he was so right and it all made sense. She could feel herself wanting to let go, wanting to say yes, to give herself over to him to punish her, to give her the pain she so badly needed, wanted, and feared. She didn’t know if it would be enough, but this was the first time she'd been confronted with someone actually telling her that yes, she should be punished, but she should also be forgiven.
“Yes,” she whispered even before he finished what he was saying. It felt right, so right. He was a stranger, almost. They'd been intimate, though, and he'd given her two amazing orgasms. He'd talked to her about things her best friends couldn't or wouldn't bring up. In the few hours she'd known him, she was looking at a side of herself that she'd feared for a long time. He'd been her confessor already and now, he would be her disciplinarian.
“Yes,” she said again. “Punish me, Julian.” The stone that had sat in her stomach for years seemed somehow just a little lighter.
He smiled and took her hand in his before bringing his mouth to hers. Although it was only a brief meeting of their lips, it was one of the most erotic kisses she'd ever shared with a man.
“Let's choose a safe word, Gabrielle. I would feel better if you had one, at least at the start. We'll keep it simple with ‘red’. If you truly are afraid or cannot take anymore, say ‘red’ and I will stop. Do you understand?”
She nodded, “Yes.”
“Are you ready, Gabrielle?”
“I… Yes.”
“Stand up.”
She did.
“Let your hair down,” he said.
She was very aware of how her fingers trembled as she reached back and pulled the clip from her hair, allowing the dark mass to spill down her back.
Julian rose to his feet, standing just inches from her. “You're shivering,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head, feeling like a child as she stared up at him. He moved her hair over her shoulders and caressed her cheek before positioning her so that she stood in the light that spilled from the open door.
“Take off your clothes,” he said, his voice slightly lower, deeper.
“Should we go inside?” she asked, looking around.
He shook his head and poured another glass of wine for himself before settling back in his chair.
She swallowed and took a moment to scan her body. Yes, she was trembling, but it wasn't from cold. In fact, the evening was warm and without the slightest breeze. Her nipples had pebbled into hard points and she could feel them against the smooth material of her dress. Lower down, her pussy throbbed in anticipation of what was to come. Reaching back, she unzipped her dress and let it slide off her body and drop to the floor. She stood in just panties and although he'd seen her naked before, this felt different.
“Continue, Gabrielle.”
She shook her head once, unsure why she couldn't do what he asked her to do.
He grinned and for the first time, she fully glimpsed the dominant male inside him. “Well, leave them on then for now. I have a feeling when we're finished tonight, you'll have learned better to obey.”
What did he mean by that?
“You're beautiful,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Take your clothes inside, fold them neatly, and put them and your shoes by the door. Then choose a corner, doesn't matter which one, and stand with your nose touching the wall. You'll spread your legs to shoulder width and take your panties down to your knees. You'll then clasp your hands at the back of your head. I'll join you shortly.”
“Wait,” she said, imagining the humiliation of taking the position he described. “I… Julian, I don't know if I can do this.”
“The corner time is a part of your punishment, that and the humiliation that come with it. You'll do as you're told and as long as we're in a disciplinary session, you'll refer to me as Sir. Is that clear?”
“But…”
“Would you like to continue, Gabrielle? You can use your safe word and we'll call it off. We'll have a nice glass of wine together and I'll make love to you. We'll likely spend the weekend together and at the end, we'll say goodbye and nothing will have changed for you. I can help you, but you must allow me to. Would you like to continue with your punishment?”
He would punish her but she'd have to choose to be punished. He would not relieve her of that responsibility.
“Yes,” she answered after a few moments.
He smiled and rose to his feet, kissing her on the forehead. “Good girl. Do you have any questions?” he asked, adding, “You won't be allowed to speak unless you're spoken to or need to use your safe word once we begin.”
What if she couldn’t do it? What if it hurt too much and she used her safe word too soon?
He smiled, as if seeing her inner struggle. “Relax, Gabrielle. We'll just see how you react. I promise I will only give what you can take, not more, not less.”
She nodded, her eyes wide.
“All right, go get ready.”
She picked up her things and walked inside. Her heartbeat was remarkably calm as she followed his instructions, setting everything on the floor by the door. She chose the corner farthest from the patio and, spreading her legs to shoulder width, lowered her panties. She then clasped her hands behind her head and brought her nose to the wall as he'd instructed. Although she hadn't heard him come inside and knew no one could see her, she felt more exposed than ever before. She was glad she hadn't taken her panties off now. She needed this—the humiliation, the punishment, all of it—even as a small voice berated her for her body's natural reactions, telling her it wasn't right. She pushed the thought aside, aware of her pussy lips opening hungrily as moisture coated them while she waited for him.
* * *
Julian sipped his wine, looking calm by all outward appearances even though he wanted nothing more than to walk inside, pull her over his knee and spank her pretty little bottom. But he wanted her to have this time to think, to begin the process of relinquishing power to him. He'd been surprised that she hadn't just slipped her panties off when he'd told her to strip, but it worked out better this way. Panties pulled down to her knees during her punishment would make her feel more exposed and vulnerable than being totally naked. He imagined she was aroused, but at the same time she would be feeling other things as well. He was curious how she'd react. She needed this punishment and it would take all he had not to fuck her afterwards, but he was determined he wouldn't. He would only hold her while she cried and then allow her to fall asleep in his arms. Something about her, maybe her raw need and trust in him, demanded that he take care of her. It was how he'd felt about his wife years and years ago. He had a chance to help Gabrielle now. He hadn't known how to help his wife when she had needed him and he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He waited a good fifteen minutes before following her in, closing the doors behind him. She stood as he'd told her and he had to adjust his cock. This was for her, not for him, and he could her hear sniffling at the wall already.
“Gabrielle,” he said.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Was your nose touching the wall at all times?”
“No,” she didn't hesitate to answer and didn't lie. That was good.
“Why not?”
“I got tired,” she said.
She heard him opening and closing drawers in the kitchen.
“Come here,” he said.
She obeyed, shuffling over. Her panties fell to her ankles and she began to step out of them.