La Brat (9 page)

His mobile rang and he checked the screen. Eugenie. He took the call.

“I will be ten minutes, no more. Just leaving now.”

“Then you’ll be twenty minutes. Which will make you half an hour late, Eugenie.”

“I apologize.”

She didn’t sound in the least contrite. He wondered if denying her an orgasm for the next two days or so might not be a more effective deterrent for the future. It probably would, but the effect would be to wreck his weekend too. Eugenie’s orgasms were an utter delight, so he was loath to deny either one of them.

She was lovely, but she was a brat. She tested him continually, pushing, goading, manipulating. His beautiful little Genie was probably worth the bother, though there were times when he wondered.

He strolled into his kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. He sipped the bitter brew, strong and black, just as he liked it, and contemplated the coming scene. He had planned an hour or so of erotic play featuring a flogger and a rather sweet bullet vibrator. That would be followed by a shower, then they could share an intimate pasta at a bistro down the road. Maybe afterward he could indulge her yearning for a spanking—he’d noticed she always slept better if her bottom was red and sore.

His phone beeped. A text.

Two minutes.

Puzzled, he pried the slats of his Venetian blinds apart to check if her car was outside already. No, not a sign of her. He finished his coffee and poured another then waited out the two minutes.

Three and a half minutes later, the purr of her engine in his driveway alerted him to her arrival. He glanced from the window to see her smart little Volkswagen roll to a stop behind his BMW. Eugenie emerged from the car. She looked flustered as she leaned back in to grab her phone from the passenger seat. She reached into the back for her overnight bag and scurried toward his front door.

Aaron waited in the kitchen. The door was unlocked and she would let herself in. He was thinking, assessing the evidence, and not liking the conclusions he was arriving at.

How many fucking times did he need to tell her that her safety mattered? It mattered more than anything to him. He knew there was no way her first call could have been made as she was leaving her flat. She must have been already en route. And that text a couple of minutes ago—definitely. Christ, she liked to live dangerously. The copper in him responded to the law breaking, but it was the Dom in him that reacted to the sheer bloody madness of it. She could have been killed, or killed some other innocent road user. This had to stop.

He heard her voice in his hallway. “I’m here. I’m sorry to be late, but it is only about twenty minutes. I will stay longer tomorrow to make up for it.”

She burst into the kitchen and dropped her bag to the floor before rushing at him, her face upturned for a kiss. He halted her with one imperious finger.

“Your phone, please, Eugenie.”

She teetered before him, her expression uncertain. “My…?”

“Phone. Now.” He held out his hand. Eugenie placed her phone in his palm. He switched it on, keyed in her passcode then started trawling through her calls log. He really had no need to go through the exercise. He knew exactly when the device had been used.

“You said you were just leaving?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, his face still lowered to study the small screen. “Where were you really when you made that call?”

“I, I…” She wasn’t a fool. They’d talked about this before and she knew exactly where he was heading. She had the good sense to lower her gaze. “On the inner ring road. I had stopped at the traffic lights. I just… I did not want you to be worried about me.”

Fucking hell. Has she no bloody idea at all?

“And the text?”

She shifted, her posture betraying her apprehension. “There was a hold-up. Roadwork.”

Her tone was breathless now. He could tell she was nervous. He wondered if her lateness had been a ploy. In fact, on reflection, he was convinced of it and as such it wouldn’t work. Arriving twenty minutes late wasn’t going to earn her the spanking she seemed to crave. But her thoughtless disregard for his rules about safe driving? No, he didn’t think that was Genie being manipulative. That had been a mistake on her part, a dangerous error, and one he intended to correct. She would not enjoy the consequences. Neither would he, but he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to get his point across and make it stick.

But not now. Now he was just too fucking angry to dare go anywhere near her. Certainly he was in no mood to deliver a severe punishment. He needed to be calm for that, in control. Tomorrow would have to do.

“I think you know the rules, but oblige me by repeating them now.”

“Rules, Sir?”

“The Highway Code, particularly in relation to the use of mobile phones whilst driving.”

“Oh, those rules. You are playing policeman with me, Sir?” She smiled, her expression coquettish.

“If I was playing policeman, I’d be writing you out a fixed penalty notice, not contemplating a whipping.” His tone was harsh enough to break rocks, expertly modulated to maximum effect.

“A whipping, Sir?” Her playful smile evaporated. She stared at him, her eyes widening. “I am sorry and I have said so.”

He noted with some satisfaction that the color had drained from her face. She was at last taking this matter seriously. He would ensure she was left in no doubt as to how gravely he regarded her carelessness. He’d stopped her from drinking and driving, so now he would up the ante and make sure she never repeated this offense either.

“As I recall, you apologized for being late. I have no intention of punishing you for that. You know why you deserve to be disciplined.”

Her eyes glistened with tears that she tried to blink back. “I phoned you whilst I was driving. I admit it and I am very sorry. Please, Sir, there is no need for this.”

He stiffened his resolve. She could be so very appealing, but he had no intention of relenting. In any case, he was immune to tears. They came often enough with the Dom territory. “My call, not yours. But it’ll have to wait. Go to bed now, Eugenie.”

“Bed, Sir? But I thought—”

“Alone. You know where the spare room is. I don’t expect to see you again until tomorrow morning. Then, provided I’m no longer so fucking angry with you, you will accept whatever punishment I decide on. After that, if you feel so inclined, you can apologize and I’ll be listening. Now, do you have any questions?”

“I do not want to go to bed. At least, not alone. I came here to… It is only four o’clock in the afternoon, Sir. I am not a child.”

“Believe me, I know you aren’t a child, though you do behave like one sometimes. But you’re a woman, and a submissive, so act like it. I expect you to obey and to be courteous about it. Also, I know what the time is. This is not up for discussion. Either you go upstairs and stay in my spare room until tomorrow, or you go home now and return here in the morning. Ten o’clock. Sharp.”

She stood before him, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her jaw was set, her lips flattened in—what? Anger, frustration? All of that, he suspected. She might be lovely—his cock hardened every time he laid eyes on her—but she had a lot to learn about submission, about obedience and about the proper demeanor to display for her Dom. He waited with his arms folded across his chest as she appraised her options.

A full minute ticked away before she turned on her heel and marched for the door, bending to retrieve her bag as she went. She might have muttered something along the lines of ‘arrogant bastard’ as she left the room. Aaron let it pass. This time. The clatter of her feet on his staircase informed him of the choice she had made.

Tomorrow would not be easy—for either one of them.

* * * *

At around seven thirty that evening, he took her a tray of food. Nothing special, just some cheese sandwiches, a pot of tea and a bowl of tomato soup. He was no culinary genius—it was only some stuff he’d heated up from a tin—but he knew she must be hungry. Starving her had no part in his plan. She was seated cross-legged in the center of the double bed when he entered. She looked to have been crying.

“Please, Sir, I am bored. And lonely. I want to be with you.”

“Tomorrow. After. I brought you this.” He set the tray on the bedside table and turned to head for the door.

“Sir, please. I want to sleep with you. Please. Do not leave me here alone.”

He paused. She was tempting. He loved the softness of her sleek body in his bed, especially since she’d managed to gain those few pounds she needed to fill out her curves. It wouldn’t do, though. He turned his head to regard her over his shoulder.

“Eat up, then get some sleep, if you can. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * * *

Eugenie padded into his kitchen just after nine o’clock. She’d obviously showered, her hair still damp, and she wore a pretty yellow sundress. It was one of his favorites and he wondered if it had been selected for that reason. But she still looked a wreck.

Aaron considered delaying her punishment. He’d decided on a caning, the most severe physical discipline at his disposal just now. If this didn’t work, he wasn’t entirely sure what would, though he was confident he could come up with something. He knew she’d struggle with what he intended to do to her—it was his absolute intention—but he doubted whether a decent night’s sleep would have made any real difference.

He’d made her wait and he knew that being incarcerated on her own overnight was what had really taken its toll. Best just to get it done with now and let the pair of them move on. They might yet salvage something from this weekend.

“Good morning. You’re early.”

“Is that all right, Sir? I mean… I was hungry again. May I have some food?”

He noted that an air of contrition did at last seem to be creeping in. Her manners had improved since yesterday and the dress denoted a clear attempt to please him. Maybe he was starting to get through to her.

“Of course. Cereal? Toast? A yogurt?” He gestured at the fridge, indicating that she should help herself to whatever she fancied.

Eugenie selected an orange and mango fat-free yogurt then joined him at the kitchen table. Aaron passed a teaspoon across the table to her.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

He shoved the last of his own wholemeal toast in his mouth and stood to fill the kettle. Neither of them spoke until he set her steaming cup in front of her. He resumed his seat and waited until she’d finished her yogurt before he spoke again.

“Did you put on any underwear?”

She held his gaze over the rim of her cup. “Yes, Sir. You did not give me any other instructions.”

“I think you know by now that I rarely allow you to wear knickers when we’re here together.” So much for trying to impress him.

She lowered her eyes. “I am sorry, Sir. I did not think.”

Aaron got to his feet again. “When you’ve finished your tea, join me in the dining room. Leave your panties in here.” He strode from the room without a further glance in her direction.

Ten minutes later, the door to the dining room opened and Eugenie slipped inside. She closed the door quietly and leaned back against it, watching him from across the room.

“I am here, Sir. As you instructed me. What is it that you intend to do?”

Always that note of belligerence, of challenge. Despite her exquisite responses when they scened together, he did wonder if she was truly submissive at heart. Today might help to clarify that. Aaron straightened, shifting his weight from where he’d been leaning against the dining table. As he moved, Eugenie’s gaze was drawn to the narrow rattan cane laid on the tabletop.

She lifted her chin, her eyes wide. She shook her head quickly.

“No, Sir. Not a cane. We have never—”

“What’s your safe word, Eugenie?”

“You know what it is. Maupassant,” she whispered her response, all the time shaking her head.

“Your safe word stops this. Nothing else will. Ten strokes.” He gentled his tone. “It will soon be over. I suggest we get on with it.”

“No. No. This is not fair. I thought… I expected…”

“No, Eugenie?” Aaron’s tone was soft, but he made no move to approach her. She had to submit to this without any coercion from him. He would never force her.

“Please, Sir, why are you continuing with this? I have said I am sorry.”

Aaron schooled his features to be as inscrutable as he could manage. In truth, he took no pleasure in these sorts of interludes, but he wouldn’t shirk his responsibility to her as her Dom. “I know this seems harsh, but you need to learn. And it’s best you learn before you kill someone, quite possibly yourself.” He paused for a few seconds then added, “I do care about you, Genie. I’m not doing this because I want to hurt you, but I do intend to teach you a lesson. You have to obey me in this matter, and the cane today will help to ensure that. So, unless you intend to safe word, I’d appreciate it if you’d bend over the table and lift your skirt, please.”

She made no move to do as he’d instructed. “But, I thought that today we might—we might be together again. That we could scene, have fun. A caning will hurt me—really hurt. I do not understand why you insist on this.”

“I know it’ll hurt. But you will survive it. You might not survive a head-on collision if you carry on driving as you have been.” He moved to the side of the table, his arms folded. He captured her gaze and held it. “We did talk about caning when we first got together. I asked if you wanted to put it on your hard limits list. You said no, so here we are. We’ll proceed at your pace, of course. I’m in no hurry. But neither of us leaves this room until the ten strokes have been administered. Are we clear?”

Long seconds ticked past as she glared at him, conflicting emotions warring across her face. He wasn’t at all sure she was going to go through with this.

At last, she stepped forward, started to make her way toward him. She crossed the room slowly, her eyes fixed on the cane. Even as she rested her palms on the table, Aaron expected to hear her safe word.