Page 21 of Brave
She didn’t fight him, but it was just as clear that she really didn’t want to crawl up out of the booth and follow along behind him as he wound his way past a lot of empty tables to the bathrooms in the far back of the restaurant. The entire section in this area was empty and cleaned for the night. He glanced around, checking the distance between here and the nearest other patrons, but between the volume of the music and the noise from the kitchen, he knew he stood a halfway decent chance of not attracting too much attention.
Trust a restaurant in the State’s capital to be progressive when it came to their restrooms. There was a men’s, a women’s, and a single unit gender neutral/family bathroom. Pulling her inside, he shut and locked the door.
She stared at the toilet and then she stared at him, a slow flush of pink stealing up into her too pale face. “I don’t have to—” Cutting off with a gasp, she only just bit back a yelp when he abruptly bent her over, tucking her under his arm against his hip, and in a dozen of the hardest swats he could muster, paddled the seat of her jeans. Apart from another sharp gasp at the first loud smack and her breathy squeak once it was over, she took it in absolute silence. When he released her, instead of straightening back up, she almost dropped to her knees right there on the bathroom floor. His quick grip on her arm prevented it.
Her eyes locked on him, huge in a too pale face. Her mouth was a rounded ‘o’ of—was that wonder or shock; it was hard to tell—and the very apples of her cheeks were pink. Twice, he thought her subtle twitch was an aborted attempt to reach back with the arm he wasn’t holding hostage, but she never did touch her bottom. No rubbing after a punishment must have been against her previous dom’s rules.
Well, it wasn’t against Carlson’s, but at the moment, he had bigger issues to correct her on.
“We are going to have a drink. We are going to have dinner. We are going to have dessert, and we are not going to worry about what it costs because your Sir has told you he is taking care of it and you will trust him to do that. If you really do want water, fine, but you’ll have it in conjunction with a drink that has calories, because you need the nutrition and the calories. Now, are we clear or do we need to talk about this a second time?”
She never took her eyes off him. Not even when she shook her head in swift, tiny side to side jerks.
“Do you need to take a minute? Do you want to wash your face or your hands before we go back to the table?”
Again, no.
“All right.” Unlocking the door, he held it open and motioned her to proceed him back to the table. Waiting for her to slide into the booth before he took his seat, Carlson once more signaled their server, who arrived within minutes with her water and his beer.
“Are you ready to order?”
“Do you need to look at the menu again?” Carlson asked, holding one out to her.
Not taking it, she kept her stare locked on the table as she stammered, “I-I’m f-fine with water.”
Picking up both menus, Carlson tapped them sharply together before handing them back. Pasting his smile back on, he announced, “We will take two of the biggest, cheesiest, bacon-packed burgers you’ve got on the menu. A little pink to the meat is fine. Fries and coleslaw, yes, please. A piece of your mile-high peanut butter pie ala mode to share afterward, with a large glass of milk. Also, if you wouldn’t mind, please bring her a small glass of orange juice with her meal, and I believe I’m going to need another beer.”
* * *
When Carlson got up from the table, she tried to tuck her hands into her lap under the edge. Reaching down, he took hold of her wrist anyway.
“No,” she whimpered, but firmly, gently, he pulled her out of the booth and made his way once more back to the bathroom.
Her bottom was still stinging from the last trip. Although strong enough to leave her squirming when she first sat down, the warmth of that lingering burn hadn’t won her instant obedience when the server returned to take her order. And to be honest, she still didn’t fully understand why she hadn’t just submitted to what she’d already agreed to. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want to be a bother, but she didn’t want to be disobedient either. Her stomach was so empty that it didn’t even hurt anymore, but the hollowness was constant and gnawing. And yet, when he’d brought her back to their table, all she could think about was Pony lying in bed, suffering this same emptiness.
The thought of eating when her sub-mate couldn’t, especially when it was her fault… she couldn’t.
She just couldn’t.
The last person in the world that she wanted mad at her was Carlson, this handsome man with his soldier’s physique, that touch of gray at his temples, and the quiet authority that made her insides both quiver and melt. All he had to do was look at her, and all of those old, familiar submissive desires rekindled inside her. One would have thought she’d learned her lesson with Ethen, and yet, here she was, quietly desperately aching to feel the strong comfort of a man’s hand in her hair. Or to hear those two magic words—good girl—spoken in the soothing rumble of a man’s voice right up against the shell of her ear.
Except, she didn’t deserve that. She hadn’t been good at all, and now here she was. Being led by the wrist like a recalcitrant child back through the mostly empty restaurant. Nothing felt worse than this low-grade thump of useless arousal, pulsing in her clit while the guilt it spawned chewed up her insides. That guilt grew sharper teeth while she stood helplessly by the hand dryer while Carlson shut and locked the door for privacy.
Her breathing turned quick and shallow as she turned it over and over in her mind. Why had she done it? Why hadn’t she just given in and done what he wanted? She would have done that for Ethen. She would have done anything for Ethen, never mind what it was or where they were. She would have done it because the consequences of choosing otherwise were always so very much worse than the humiliation of the deed.
But this wasn’t Ethen.
Carlson wasn’t Ethen. Watching him turn to face her didn’t shoot the same icy fear into her gut that her previous Master had never failed to inspire.
Carlson wasn’t him.
That low pulse between her legs became a full bloom of wanton heat as that startling revelation rocketed through her. It set all the most unexpected parts of her to pulsing along in time with her budding arousal as, folding his arms across his chest, Carlson made himself comfortable against the door.
“All right,” he said grimly. “Spill it. What’s going on?”
Fingers fidgeting, Puppy stared back at him, completely lost as to how she might ever explain either what she’d done or what she’d just realized. Her already quickened breaths grew shallower as her anxiety ratcheted higher. He was waiting for an answer. Unable to give one, she tried to shrug, something Ethen had once slapped her mouth for.
‘Your words,’ he’d said at the time, and she didn’t have high hopes that Carlson wouldn’t react the same way. But while his expression darkened, he never so much as unfolded his arms. He made no move to hurt her, and all those cords of quivering tension running through her pulsed a little hotter and a little harder.
