Page 17 of Her Guardian
The weight of it begins to feel heavy on my shoulders. I know I’m playing with fire, but I don’t know what else to do. This is my chance to save my podcast and turn things around. But I don’t want to die over it. Some of the guys at Rafferty’s might not have the same boundaries as Boyd.
“Okay, I messed up,” I admit. “I’ll redo my notes. I’ll be more careful. No names. No initials. I’ll just be extremely vague—so vague nobody knows who it is.”
“Better,” he says, then he rips out of the first page of my notes, sparks his lighter, and starts burning the paper. I swallow hard as I watch it go up in smoke. “But you already got three strikes today, so after I finish burning everything you’ve written down so far, I’m going to give you a choice that will determine whether or not you get to write anything else down.”
A tremble shoots through my body. A choice? I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Boyd’s scaring me again.
“What kind of choice?” I ask apprehensively, taking a nervous hit from my vape.
“First option is you forget all about this trip to Las Vegas, your personal favor, and getting content from the Morandi family for your podcast,” he says, ripping out my next page of notes and igniting it.
I’m glad I got a room you’re allowed to smoke in because I wanted to be able to vape. The smoke detector would already be going off if I hadn’t.
“And the other option?” I ask, feeling another tremble.
“Second option is you go over my knee for being late, making me worry, and not following my directions,” he replies. “Then we try again—with closer supervision.”
Another tremble, but this one makes my core clench. My thoughts immediately go back to my dirty fantasy. The one I had right before I fell asleep. But this is no fantasy. He’s talkingabout a spanking. Arealone. And I have no doubt in my mind that it will hurt.
My throat gets dry. I swallow hard again, trying to ease it with some saliva.
“You’re serious?” I ask, even though the look on his face already says it. “You’re going to spank me?”
“If that’s what you choose,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “I’d recommend you get in your car, drive home, and forget all about this nonsense. You clearly aren’t cut out for it if you can’t even follow basic instructions.”
That really would be the smart thing to do. I don’t want a spanking. Especially from a giant of a man with big—reallybig—hands. I’d be completely at his mercy. If I let him bend me over his knee, I won’t be going anywhere until he’s finished.
But I’m too stubborn to do the smart thing. I messed up. I treated this too much like a game and Boyd isn’t playing around. I should have been more careful. Now I have to face the consequences. Otherwise, I’m leaving with nothing except the money I won in the casino, and that isn’t enough. I need content.
“I’ll take the spanking,” I whisper, putting my vape down. “I’m sorry for not being more careful.”
Boyd nods, peels off his suit jacket, and puts it on the bed beside him. His gaze meets mine and he starts rolling up his sleeve, revealing some ink that wasn’t visible before. I nervously shuffle toward him, my heart thundering in my chest.
“I’ve never been spanked before,” I admit, feeling smaller than ever in front of the giant sitting on the bed.
“Doesn’t matter,” he growls. “You chose this. Unbutton your shorts.”
I look down at my shorts and my eyes get wide. “Why?” I whisper.
“Because they’re coming down,” he answers. “So are your panties. Three strikes. That means you’re getting your bare ass spanked.”
My face pales and I shake my head. I’ve never been exposed like that. Never taken my clothes off in front of a man.
“Please, no,” I whimper. “I’ve never done anything like that. With anyone.”
“We’re not having sex, Sarah,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes. “I’m damn sure going to enjoy making you squirm on my lap while I spank your naughty little ass, but this is punishment. Nothing more.”
My core clenches again. Punishment. Punishment I deserve. I never thought I’d admit something like that, even to myself, but I can’t deny it. I earned all three of my strikes today.
“Please,” I whimper again, my breath hitching in my throat. A single tear rolls down my cheek. “Isn’t there another way? I don’t want to go home, but…”
“No,” he answers. “And it’s too early for tears. You’ll have a reason to cry soon enough.”
A second tear streams down my face, this time from my other eye.
My fingers nervously move to the front of my shorts. They tremble as I fumble with the button, but it eventually popsfree. My terrified breathing pushes my shorts open even more, forcing the zipper down a couple of notches, and exposing the black panties I’m wearing underneath.
I was imagining myself wearing these shorts last night. Catching Boyd’s eye. Making him see me as more than some little girl. But now they’re coming down. And so are my panties.
