A Thousand Yesses (7 page)

She
nodded, and swallowed. There was a lump in her throat and tears stung her eyes
and she wanted to beg him, plead with him, to not go there, please don’t go
there, she couldn’t handle it.

But
when would she ever get to live out her fantasy? Would the opportunity ever
present itself again?

“Yes,”
she said. And with all that was in her, she grinned and winked. “I’m game if
you are.”

He
grinned back, and his response was a whisper. “Oh, I’m game.”

* * *

“Celia’s
willing and able,” Maverick shouted out to Rodney, his eyes never leaving hers.

Damn.

Rodney
hooted, and Louanne giggled, but Celia didn’t look at them. The blood was
pounding in her ears. Her legs had turned to jelly. She was afraid if she
opened her mouth to speak, she wouldn’t be able to, and her resolve would flee.
When Maverick spoke, his words were too low for them to hear. He twirled the
paddle in his hand, as he pointed to the floor. “Kneel, please,” he said
evenly.

Gah!
Kneel?

Her
knees hit the floor and his finger went to her chin.

His
eyes went to the camera as he spoke. “Getting your girl into a submissive
posture is a good way to begin a discipline session. I prefer asking her to
kneel, though having her stand with her nose in the corner, stripped, gets the
job done, too.” Fire licked her core, and she felt as if a palpable heat rose
between them as his eyes came back to her. “Taking her chin in hand will ensure
you don’t lose eye contact.”

Celia
swallowed. His eyes were so dark, so deep, those friendly, kind, brooding eyes
she’d walk across hot coals to please. She wanted to laugh, and cry. He could
release her chin, but she couldn’t look away if she tried. Not now.

“Tonight,
our plans went awry because you weren’t efficient,” he began to chide, for the
camera. He leaned close, and whispered in her ear, low enough for her to hear,
but the camera wouldn’t pick it up. “And you binged on crappy food that’ll make
you sick. Didn’t you?” he asked. She felt a lump rise in her throat, and she
nodded wordlessly. His voice kept going, his breath tickling her neck, and she
wished he would never stop talking. “You shouldn’t take such poor care of
yourself,” he whispered. “And I’m gonna warm your ass for it.”

Celia
felt ashamed, and turned on, and excited, and nervous, all at once.

He
patted his lap. In that moment she knew, for as long as she lived, she would
never forget the image of Maverick sitting on the couch, looking at her
sternly, but not unkindly, patting his lap to beckon her to assume the position
to be punished.

Standing
on wobbling legs, she placed herself over his lap.

Spanking
was not new to her. She’d been tied up and gagged, whipped with a flogger and
caned, paddled in nightclubs, and hell, she’d even wielded the paddle herself a
time or two, to appease a few guys she knew who liked to switch. Celia was no
spanking virgin. But for some reason, it felt suddenly like this was her first
time. Even though she
had
been over his knee, it was years ago, and she
was a different person now.

This
felt different. There was a heat between them, and she understood that he was
doing more than playacting. He’d told her before to stop eating crap and making
herself
sick. Once he’d even found a package of
fudge-covered Oreos she’d bought as break-up consolation food. He’d lectured
her and thrown it all away. She knew he didn’t like to her to self-sabotage.

His
voice strengthened as he faced the camera again. “Ensure proper position. For a
smaller girl like my girl here, over the knee is what I prefer. Easy to
restrain, intimate, and you can tell her reaction easily. Also, many girls find
it easier to take a punishment if she’s over your lap.”

My
girl.

My
girl.

Why
did he have to say ‘my girl’?

“Sometimes,
I may have a submissive kneel on the couch, especially if she’s getting
strapped with my belt.” Celia felt her breath catch, and her heart skipped a
beat. Holy shit, she’d never get over this night. “Kneeling on a chair is
another position, or up against a wall. For longer implements, those positions
are preferable. But for a good paddling, over the knee works well.”

He
turned his attention to Celia. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, young
lady?” he asked sternly.

“No,
sir,” she said, as if they’d practiced this before. She was about to be
spanked, but she’d play her part fine. It felt funny, but strangely satisfying
to say
sir
to Maverick.

He
lifted the paddle, and without warning –
Whack!

The
breath hissed out of her and she squealed a bit. She couldn’t believe the other
girl had said he couldn’t spank. The swat from the leather paddle stung and
warmed her, though she was still wearing jeans.
Wham!
Another
hard swat.
Whack!
Another one fell. She was having a hard time
staying in position. Her bottom was on fire, and she could hardly focus on what
was coming as another hard swat of the paddle caught her just above the tender
part of her thigh.

“Do
that again, and next time, I’ll spank you bare,” he said, his voice low and
growly. Her leg flew up with the next swat, but he was ready. One leg lifted
and he pinned her into place with a leg over hers. Tight under his leg, one
enormous hand pinning her down, she felt the sharp sting of the paddle fall
again and again. She lost track of how many swats he gave her. The spanking
went on, and on, and she wondered if they should’ve established a safe word
before they began. But this was
Maverick.
Why would she have to safeword
with Maverick?

“You’ll
remember this every time you sit over the next few days,” he continued
lecturing. And as he continued peppering her with slow, stinging, hard swats,
she felt the lump in her throat dissolve. She felt awful for having messed up
their session tonight. Double-checking the women she’d invited for the filming
would’ve been a wise move. She still felt sick to her stomach, and ashamed that
she’d made herself sick again. But most of all, she longed so badly for this to
be
real,
it was impossible to keep her tears at bay.

He
gave her three more stinging swats before she heard the paddle drop to the
couch with a soft thump. Then his hand was on her, and to her shock, before he
lifted her, she felt him hard beneath her.

 
Had spanking her turned him on? She felt
pleased that it had.

“Good,”
he said, as she sniffled and wiped her eyes, head cast down on his chest, and
she knew she wouldn’t be caught on camera, because Louanne wouldn’t video her
face. “Tears aren’t always achieved with even the hardest of spankings,” he
murmured in his deep, husky voice. She felt the reverberation of her voice in
her chest, and it soothed her. Her tears slowed.

“So
never make tears your gauge. Many tops or Doms try to ‘spank to tears’ and
sometimes it simply won’t work.” He paused, his large hand stroking her
shoulder and nestling her head against his chest. “Tears are an emotional
response,” he said softly. “And if you lecture your girl well, and let her know
you mean business, she may find when you’re done that the tears are actually
very cleansing. But, your mileage may vary.” He paused. “Thank you for
watching, viewers, and, as always, keep your sessions safe, sane and
consensual.”

There
was silence in the room for a moment, when they were done. Her head still on
his shoulder, she lifted her face and swiped at her tears. She felt suddenly as
if a weight had been lifted. She was light as a feather. She felt so happy and
relaxed, she barely processed that Maverick was looking at her strangely.

Breaking
into a grin, he patted her on the shoulder. “Way to keep it real, girl,” he
said. “Nice job.” She felt a twinge of disappointment, but he leaned closer and
whispered in her ear. “But you’re gonna be a good girl tonight and take care of
yourself, aren’t you?”

She
nodded and winked. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’ll think about it. We might need
to do a second take on that. You never know.”

He
laughed, lifting his arm as if to give her permission to get up. She stood, not
quite sure what to do with herself. Rodney was grinning.

“You
guys, that was
such
a perfect session. Geez, you nailed it. Hot, but
informative, and Celia, awesome job bringing those tears up. Man, I’m so
impressed. I didn’t know you were such a good actress.” He clapped her on the
back like a chum.

“She
did good,” Maverick said. “Hey, you guys wanna go grab some drinks?”

But
Louanne wasn’t smiling. She was watching Celia warily, nodding. “Yeah, sure,”
she said. Celia couldn’t meet her eyes.

Rodney
was clueless. Maverick, he could go either way. But Louanne wasn’t buying it
was an act for a minute. Celia tossed her head and walked away.

As
she walked to the door, she wished for a moment he’d spanked her even longer
and harder.

She
wished she could feel the sting forever.

Maverick pulled up to his house, as his phone buzzed.
It was late, and his mom hadn’t called
him all night. He checked in after they left Rodney’s, and she’d said that
Marianna was doing fine, watching
Mary
Poppins
for the millionth time.

“We
popped popcorn, and we’re settling in,” his mom’s high, feeble voice assured
him. “You have a good time with your friends, and we’ll see you later.”

So
he’d gone, satisfied they didn’t need him to come home right away. The group’d
had some drinks. Celia had been strangely quiet all night, and he almost
regretted spanking her. Almost. He knew they needed a session for their
viewers, and he also knew that as a submissive, getting spanked regularly would
be satisfying to her. She’d been fully clothed. He would normally remove the
jeans for a spanking, but that seemed like he’d be going down a road he wasn’t
interested in. And even if he
was
okay with baring her, he’d never be
okay with baring her ass for
all the
world to see. Not
happening.

Louanne
and Celia had talked in hushed whispers, but Rodney was on top of the world.
Their latest videos from the previous few weeks had hit the top ten online, and
that meant a higher pay grade. Although everything they posted was free to
viewers, money from advertisers funded the videos that gleaned a certain amount
of hits. Rodney was stoked. The money they made, after they split it, was more
than enough to cover the flowers Louanne had picked out for the ceremony, the
cake, and then some.

“We
have to keep this going,” he said with a chuckle, producing a pad of paper and
pen, as the waitress brought their drinks. “We need more ideas.” They
brainstormed thoughts, and had gone their separate ways when the night grew
dark. Celia was tired, and Maverick walked her to her car.

“You
good?” he asked her. His question held so much.

You
okay to drive?

You
too tired?

Are
you okay with the fact that I spanked you?

“Yeah,”
she said nonchalantly. “Sure I am. You?” she teased, sticking her tongue out.
He narrowed his eyes and opened the door to the car for her, swatting at the
air as she squealed and got her ass in the car before his palm could connect.

He
watched until the fading
glow of her taillights were
gone. Still, when his phone rang, she was the first person he thought of. But
it wasn’t Celia on the line.
Rodney.
“Whassup?”

“Maverick,
you won’t believe this!” Rodney’s voice was high, and excited. He spoke
quickly. “I just got a message from CTB.”
 

CTB,
otherwise known as Chains that Bind, a local, classy BDSM club, known
especially for instructional demos in their conference room. The front of the
store sold specialty ropes and chains, under the guise of “Learn the Ropes.”
But if you gave the password and walked to the very back room, you could gain
access to the dark, exclusive club.

“Yeah?”
Maverick said, as he slid out from the car and went up to the side door. The
door opened straight into the furnished basement where he’d set up his bachelor
pad. It had never been used when he was younger, but he and Rodney had easily
made it into an attached “in-law” apartment. He’d chosen to move in there when
his presence at home became necessary more frequently. That way he could easily
come home late and leave early for work when he needed to, but a quick trot
upstairs and he could help his mom with Marianna when necessary. It was more
private that way. Small, and somewhat cramped, it still smelled the way it did
when he was a teen, working out by pummeling the punching bag his dad had hung
from chains anchored to the ceiling. The punching bag still hung there, but the
old boxing gloves collected dust now. He still used the treadmill and weights,
and all the equipment was to the far side, away from the double bed in the
center of the room. He had a bookcase lined with books, an end table next to
his bed, a lamp that had been around since he was a child, and his own small
private bathroom. It was perfect for when he needed privacy. And Marianna hated
dark spaces, so she would never venture down and poke through his belongings.