Page 25 of Brave
She shook her head, trying hard not to look at either his hands or his arm, or think about how much worse this second round was going to feel now that she had no protective barriers between his bare hand and her flesh. Worse, and yet not worse. It had been such a long time since anyone had cared enough to touch her. She’d missed this. It was wrong for her to, but she missed this so very much.
“Hands down,” he told her.
He barely waited for her to lower her trembling arms before he reached for her and back over his hip she went. Tucking her firmly under his arm and against his side, the flat of his heavy right hand began a hard, disciplinary rhythm all over her backside. It only took two brisk slaps for him to reawaken every nerve that had already been smacked once that night.
She tried to stay quiet. She tried to find that place in her head where she always used to go whenever Ethen would grab her by the hair, dragging her through the living room while he whipped her with her leash. But there was no place to hide. Not from the crisp sharp smacks that filled the bathroom, bouncing off the floor and wall tiles. Certainly not from the painful sting as he delivered way more than the dozen or so swats she’d received the last time.
This spanking was harder and lasted longer, and try though she did not to make any noise, she couldn’t stop herself. Her breaths turned to squeaks and squeaks became yelps that she couldn’t seem to muffle behind her hands no matter how hard she pressed. The last thing she wanted was somebody coming up to the door to investigate what this clapping, echoing noise was, especially if she was punctuating it with little noises of distress. Surely somebody had to be hearing this. The police were going to get called. They were going to get asked to leave. Carlson might even get arrested.
She gritted her teeth, praying the noise from the kitchen would cover it up.
She quickly switched to praying it would just stop, but his hand kept right on slapping, hard and unhurried. Seemingly unconcerned where consequences were concerned. Positively setting her ass on fire in a way that was impossible for her to hold still for.
This was nothing like the beatings she was used to, and yet once upon a time she could have taken far, far worse than this juvenile form of correction. She couldn’t take this. She’d lost the ability. Especially during that part when he finally deemed her bottom spanked enough and switched his painful attentions to the tops of her thighs. She burst into tears then and had to grab onto his leg just to keep from reaching back.
It was awful. The pain took her to a place where all she felt was sorry—sorry for tonight; sorry for a year’s worth of being unable to stand up for herself, to her mother, Pony, Ethen; sorry for every adult decision that she’d ever made, the culmination of all of it leading up to this utter ruination that she’d made of her life. But more than that was the overwhelming relief that followed, marching along on the heels of that invading army of self-pitying sorries. Whatever she had to do to make sure she never disappointed him again, she was determined to do. It was a promise she had every intention of keeping, right up until he finished spanking her and pulled her up, enveloping her in a hug she didn’t deserve.
His chest was every bit as hard and strong and solid as the rest of him. He held her close, one burning hand on her back and the other caressing her hair. The softness of his black shirt absorbed her tears, and there it was again: Safety.
“If we need to make a third trip back here, then we’ll be getting our food to go, because three times within the same twenty-four-hour period will result in my belt coming off. Got it?” he asked against the top of her head.
She nodded, but deep inside she knew she would happily take his belt if it meant he would hold her again afterwards.
As soon as she got herself back under control, he let her go. She stood like a proper menagerie girl as he returned her panties to their proper place and even fastened her back into her jeans.
“Wash your face,” he said, and she did, but already she felt bereft. She ached to be held, but without a way to ask for it, all she could do was follow him back out to their table.
He held the bathroom door, letting her exit first before taking the lead. She liked that. It made her feel special.
Once at the table, he waited until she gingerly eased herself down before taking his own seat. She shifted, adjusting her weight on a bottom that was so very sore and burning. Almost as soon as they were seated, the server brought their food to the table.
“Do you have an email?” Opening up his phone contacts when she nodded, he passed her his cell. “Please enter your number and your email. Do you have access to a printer?”
Thinking about the library, she nodded again. There was no way she could print anything Carlson sent her at her mother’s house and still keep this relationship a secret from Pony. She wasn’t even sure where in the house she could hide what he sent where neither might find it.
“First thing tomorrow, I’m going to send you a contract. I want you to go through it. Make a note of any questions you have, and when we get together next, we’ll go over each point together. I have a regular nine-to-five through the week, but my schedule puts me at Black Light most Wednesdays through Saturdays, six to midnight.” Taking back his phone as soon as she was done, he promptly texted her. “Now you have my number. Shoot me a text to let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll make time for us to talk about it.”
“Okay,” she agreed, but already in the back of her mind she was bracing herself not to get her hopes up. As soon as he had a quiet moment to replay tonight in his head, he was going to realize how much of a mess she was. He’d probably send her a text eventually, but it wouldn’t be first thing in the morning. It might not happen tomorrow at all.
He was just being kind. Guys like him did that sort of thing.
What they didn’t do, however, was attach themselves to messed up people like her.
Not that it mattered. In the long run, this whole thing was destined to fall apart no matter what she did. Because in the end it all came down to the same inevitable thing: Pony couldn’t wait to go back to Ethen. When that happened, she wouldn’t be going alone. They were the only two left out of his menagerie of four. Of all the things she’d learned over the past year, the only thing that mattered was they were both all the other had.
Someone had to protect Pony from the full brunt of Ethen’s cruelty, and Puppy had always been his favorite whipping post.
Taking it was the only thing she’d really ever been good at.
Chapter 8
True to his word, when Puppy awoke the next morning, there under her pillow where she’d hidden it the night before, her cellphone was flashing a little blue light in homage of the text message she’d received from Carlson. Although she was braced for him to back out of everything, whatever he’d thought about over the course of the night had not induced him to change his mind.
With the window shade drawn to block the morning light, the room was just dark enough to make out Pony’s quilt-covered lump on her cot by the closet. It was impossible to tell with Pony, but she looked to be asleep. Pulling her blanket up over her head to hide the telltale light, she curled onto her side around her phone and checked her messages.
I’ve sent you an email, the simple text read. Enjoy your day!
Puppy almost panicked. How could she check that without anyone knowing? Her mother would let her use her laptop if she asked, but she’d stand right there and watch the entire time she was online. Anything Carlson had sent her, her mother would read. She needed to wait, she decided, phone cradled in her hands. She could go to the library print it out and read it in the—wait…
