Finding Submission (Service & Submission Book 1) (21 page)

“Remember that you asked for this, kitty.”

Avery watched his broad shoulders stiffen and straighten with determination, then he turned on his heel and walked away. Preston loved rules and boundaries, and if anyone crossed over those boundaries there were consequences. Anyone. But if you were his, like Avery was, the consequences resulted in a very sore, very red, bare bottom. She knew this. Knew it when she sat down and gave him an angry pout. But it was just too difficult to crawl into the bed. Just like it was too difficult to lie over his lap. She
needed
him to force her, needed him to take the choice away from her. If she pushed his buttons, he would take over — that choice at least, was still hers ultimately — but once the punishment began, she always concluded it was easier to obey. It was certainly a lot less painful.

One by one, Preston pulled several canes out of the cupboard. He swung each of them through the air in turn. When each cane sliced the air, the sound made her flinch. He tested one against his leg, then put it back, pulling out a new one. Her bottom tingled and she questioned once again why she fought him. He methodically tested them until he found the right one. Then he nodded, shutting the doors and striding her way. His lips were thinned, his eyes dark, and the closer he came, the faster the butterflies fluttered in her belly.

“Stand up, Avery.”

Avery’s legs trembled as she obeyed. Unable to make eye contact, she stared at his bare feet. He had nice feet, long thin toes. Masculine, yet attractive.

“Look at me, Avery.” She locked her gaze with his. She didn’t see mercy in those cobalt blue eyes, but there wasn’t anger either. Just a determined intensity.

“I want you to bend over the end of the bed, standing at the entrance to your kitty bed. I’m thinking when this is caning is done, you’ll be happy to lie on your kitty pillow.”

Avery walked over to the bed, bending over it as instructed. The mattress was high, forcing her up on tip toes. Preston walked up behind her, his hand rubbing over her bottom. He stopped briefly to play with her tail, stroking and petting it. His caressing hand moved from the tail to her thighs and back again.

“Such a pretty bottom and tail — now I have to give my kitty stripes. I didn’t want to stripe you this weekend, girlie. Too bad you can’t obey without punishment — but I won’t let you get away with acting bratty. I’ll always care about your behavior, and you
will
learn. How long it takes for you to learn, is up to you.”

His hands stroked further up her thighs, his finger delving into her sex. “You’re dripping, Avery.” He circled her clit with feathery strokes, dipping his fingers into her sex, making her gasp. “We have no time for that right now either. Too bad. My naughty kitty needs to be punished.” He eased his hands up her body until they cupped her breasts, her wetness on his finger dampening her nipples, her scent filling her nostrils.

“Bad Kitty, I want you to reach behind you and grab your tail — you’ll hold it out of my way for your spanking. Pull on it tightly. I want there to be a steady uncomfortable tug on your bottom hole during your punishment.
Do
not let go of this tail during your punishment, or there will be extras. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir. Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really, really sorry. I just didn’t know how… ” Avery dropped her head onto the bedspread. She didn’t even know how to explain the jumble of feelings going on inside her. She wanted to obey. But didn’t want to give in to the lure of kitty play — even as she enjoyed it. Her pussy was dripping and clenching, and she
liked
her pretty white tail. The one she had in her hand right now. She even enjoyed being fed by Preston.

But she felt like she had to resist this. Wasn’t this depraved somehow? Well, maybe not. Preston was an attorney — a well-respected attorney – and he was into it People role-played all kinds of things.

How could she tell him how she struggled with it inside, that her misbehavior was directly related to this conflict?

“I know, sweetie. We’ll deal with this, and I guarantee we’ll get you sorted out.”

Preston lightly tapped her bottom, the touch of the hard, cold cane making her bottom cheeks tremble. Then she heard the sound of the cane slicing the air, and a line of fire exploded on her backside. In reaction to the pain, Avery clenched her bottom and tried to rise, shouting in pain, but Preston’s heavy hand at the middle of her back kept her in place.

“No rising, Avery. Stay in place. You have five more lashes of the cane then we’ll be done. When your owner tells you to do something, as a good kitty you will do what?”

“I’ll do it! I promise. Can we be done?”

“No, you have five more. “

Avery knew that once Preston decided she needed a punishment, nothing she said nor any amount of pleading would change his mind. He was resolute and determined — and breaking the rules was never tolerated.

Three lashes landed, one after the other, and by the end of the third one she was screeching. If it hadn’t been for his hand on her back she would’ve rolled over, holding her abused bottom. How could it hurt so much? The pain increased with every second. She quietly cried into the bedspread. She hated crying — ever since she was a little girl, she’d thought crying was a sign of weakness. But Preston seemed to feel her healing and restoration couldn’t begin without that crying, that display of emotion. He had said many times after disciplining her, that he wouldn’t think of stopping a punishment until there were tears — that submission and dominance were put into their perfect order once tears of remorse where shed.

“You’ve got some pretty impressive tram-lines rising on your bottom, girlie. You’re going to find it difficult to sit tomorrow, I’m thinking. You’ll happily sleep on your tummy with your tail in tonight, won’t you? Such a naughty Kitty.” Preston traced his finger along one of the tram lines, the hurt making her wag her hips to avoid his touch. Not that it stopped him — he loved feeling the swollen tracks his cane left in her flesh. He would still be doing it even days after a caning.

“And I know you thought I missed it, but you let go of your tail — so you’ll be getting three strokes instead of two. These are going to be on the underside of your bottom, on your sit spots — and they’ll be the hardest. You’ll remember your defiance and learn from it. Am I right?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Let’s continue.” He lightly tapped the area, making her jump in anticipation.

The sound of a cane hitting the skin at lightning speed was something she’d learned to dread. She hated that sound and even as it was occurring, she sucked in a breath, holding it until the pain became too much, and she exhaled with a low, guttural groan. His hand left her back, and she immediately rolled over holding her abused flesh. The feel of the lines under the palms of her hands felt unsettlingly familiar, and yet at the same time that familiarity brought a sort of comfort.

The comfort of those tramlines. She tried thinking of what they felt like, what to compare them to. Tramlines were similar to one of those little badges that got sewn onto your Girl Scout’s sash. You struggled to receive those little patches. It was difficult at times, and yet every time you looked at them they were…
pretty
. They made you feel warm inside. Tramlines did that for her. She felt a sense of satisfaction and pride when she looked at them. Those lines said: “I misbehaved, I got punished (and it hurt like fucking hell), but I survived and… he loves me, he cares, he makes rules. And I like that I have rules, that he wants me to be a better person.”

It made no sense to her — and she would deny it if asked — but she l
oved
to look at them, to lie in bed and trace them with her fingers. She liked receiving them just as much as he liked giving them.

But when it was happening, as it was at that moment — it sucked
ass
. It hurt — and she wanted to throw a shoe at him! She didn’t understand why she allowed him to do it, and she hated herself for liking it. But more than that, it just plain hurt.

“Roll over on your belly, Kitten. Let me look at your bottom.”

Avery didn’t hesitate to do as she was told this time. She rolled over, amazed that she still felt embarrassed to present her ass after a caning. But the vulnerability was still there, no matter how many times she’d done it.

His fingertips traced her lines. “You’re going to be sore tomorrow, sweetie. Are you going to submit now?“

“Y-yes, Sir. It hurts, so b-bad.” Avery quietly started to cry again still feeling the dull ache from the cane.

“As it’s supposed to. The pain is an incentive to behave and listen to orders. I’m putting some cream on them to help with the healing and dull the pain some. I want my kitty sleeping well, and you can’t do that very well with a throbbing backside.” He retrieved the canister of cream from the bathroom, returning to gently rub the cool cream into the lines. Initially the tramlines burned and stung terribly, but then the blessed emollient soaked in, soothing the pain.

* * *

Preston loved feeling the lines under his forefinger as he spread the emollient into them to ease the pain and assist in healing. Just the sight of the cane marking her bottom had his dick was so hard he could barely see straight. He loved the feeling of power, the charge of dominance he got from watching a woman submit to discipline, watching her fighting it then finally surrendering, the sobs and tears that came with her remorse. His arousal climbed as the woman’s submission deepened. He often wondered how men stayed in relationships and marriage without this element; he would never have a relationship or marriage without it. The role of Head of Household was of utmost importance to him, and he would have a loving and caring marriage where the wife had say in all household matters, but where his dominance would be respected and submitted to without fail.

He wanted to bury himself within her, feel the warmth of that red, striped bottom against his groin — but it was going to have to wait. He needed to get her into her kitten bed while she was still in a compliant, submissive mood.

Preston patted her hip possessively. “C’mon Kitten, let’s put you to bed. Your bed is warmed up and the lights are on — everything is waiting for you.”

Responding to his tug on her leash, Avery went to the floor and crawled to the crate. The site of her freshly spanked and striped bottom highlighted by the white tail swaying and brushing over her buttocks was more than Preston could resist.

He reached for her, sliding his finger down the cleft of her ass, delving into the slit of her sex. “Okay Kitty, you’re dripping wet. Keep crawling. I’m enjoying the show, the sway of those hips and your striped ass.”

When they were at the crate he squatted on the floor, opening the door and showed her the inside. “See the vents on the side? They filter heat into the crate to keep you warm — the dial right here will turn the heat up or down. See the red button over here on the back?”

Avery nodded.

“That button is the emergency release for the door. As I said earlier, I don’t want you opening that unless you’re having a nightmare, or you’re really upset. You won’t like the consequences of opening it just because you’re sick of it. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir”

“Good girl.” He pointed up at the roof of the enclosure. “And these lights up here are to keep you from being afraid of the dark. If they’re too bright, this switch over here, will dim them. See? I thought of everything for my girlie.”

Avery smiled at him. He loved her smile. He would do just about anything to keep her smiling. “Let me take your leash and collar off so you can sleep comfortably.”

“No.”

Preston raised an eyebrow at her. She was sassy, but it was unusual for her to be openly defiant after a punishment. She was usually quite compliant indeed after a punishment.

Avery quickly responded. “I-I mean, no — don’t take my collar off, please. Do we have to take it off? I like having it on and I think I’ll sleep better with it on. Please, Sir.”

Preston felt his cock jerk in response. How could this be happening to him? How in the name of hell did he get fortunate enough to find a woman who
wanted
to wear a kitten collar to bed? He was bursting inside with love and a possessive affection for her — he had never felt so blessed and so proud in his life –
ever
. He reached over to take her leash off and instead pulled her against his chest, kissing the top of her head.

What a treasure. My treasure.

“You can absolutely wear your collar to bed, sweetheart. You’ve pleased me more with that one question than I even know how to say. I swear I feel like giving you the world, right now.”

Avery pulled her head away, a mischievous grin playing at her lips.

“Don’t even think about it, bad girl. You
will not
take advantage of that… but maybe tomorrow we’ll see about rewarding you for this.”

Kissing her on the forehead again, he said goodnight and patted her bottom, encouraging her into her kitty bed for the night. He latched the door behind her, and watched her snuggle up onto her large, pink kitty pillow.

My treasure.