Page 25 of Hidden Heart

Chapter 7

Jessica stood next to Royce’s bed, looking at herself in the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door. The feelings bubbling inside her lacked a name. She couldn’t explain how, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her—not physically—not really. Every man could break her heart—that was a fact—and Royce was every bit a man.

She’d never been spanked before, not even as a child. He had been upfront with her from the beginning. He would use it as a punishment if needed. He’d given her an out, a way not to be in the situation. Why hadn’t she told him? What was to be gained with pushing him? Forcing him to prove he meant what he said?

The past loves of her life had made many promises, and very few of them had delivered. This wasn’t a promise of a night of passion. This was a promise of pain. Of punishment.

She continued to watch herself in the mirror as she undressed.

The option of saying no to this step and leaving hadn’t stayed in her mind long. They had agreed to the terms of their relationship, and punishments came with the territory.

He’d kept to their agreement; he didn’t try to maintain control when they were apart. In turn, she would stick to her part of the agreement.

Royce’s entrance was signaled by the heavy shuffling of his feet along the carpeting. She still found herself in awe of his size. He hadn’t dressed yet for the day; his pajama bottoms added a lightness to the heaviness of the room. When she thought of a Dominant dishing out a spanking, she didn’t picture him wearing loose-fitted plaid pajama pants.

A drawer scraped open. Metal jingled. She buried her face in the comforter.

A heavy sigh—one full of disappointment—filled the room, and her heart sank. The bed gave way to his weight as he sat beside her. She didn’t chance looking at him; she didn’t want to lose her nerve.

“I can’t take care of you if you won’t be honest about your feelings.” He placed a warm palm on the curve of her bare ass. “Part of playing is talking afterward to be sure you and I are okay, and no physical or emotional damage occurred. My intent may be to cause you temporary pain with a clothespin or a spanking, but it is never to injure you. When you won’t talk to me, how can I assess the situation? How can your needs be attended to?” He rubbed her skin.

Not sure if she should speak, she decided against it. She peeked over her shoulder. He was watching his hand linger over her ass. His words made sense, but his talk about her needs threw her off-guard. No one in her past gave her the impression that her needs meant anything to them. She was still unsure how to handle this part of him.

The first swat surprised her. She jumped at the impact and the sting of his bare hand. He had said it would be with his belt, but she wasn’t about to argue.

“Warmup first. Then the belt.” He slapped her again. More mind reading.

She grunted.

He continued to bring his palm down heavily on her bottom, his fingers lingering a moment before he delivered the next smack sending tingles across the sensitive skin. She tried to concentrate on his words instead of the physical presence of his hand.

Her lungs burned from the heat in the room, and her ass warmed at a steady pace with each lasting touch of his hand. She gripped the comforter as a hard slap landed on the tender down curve of her ass. Each slap resonated on her skin, creating a blanket of heat over her ass.

He paused the spanking to stand and change positions. She clenched her eyes shut and willed her cunt to ignore the sensations he was causing. Her ass was on fire, but she could feel the wetness between her legs in response. Her mind did not share the arousal, but she had lost control of the physical elements of the situation.

He unrolled the belt. “Are you ready?” His voice was tender.

No!“Yes.” She kept her eyes focused on the bedding. Her fists crumpled the comforter with their grip. Every muscle tensed in anticipation of the first strike. Determination set in—she would get through this without complaint. He would deliver the punishment, and she would take it, but there would be no other interaction

How wrong she was! The intensity of the burn shocked her; an electric shiver ran up from her ass through her spine. She stood upright and threw her hands behind her protectively and to rub away the flames.

“Back over.” He sounded calm, as though this was all business. “Now, Jess.”

She complied, swallowing hard and taking deep breaths. The surge of fire from the second lash spread over her before she registered the swish of the belt. With the third, a cry escaped her before she could contain it. She wanted to jump out of her skin. Any mental block she foolishly tried to put into place quickly dissipated with the lash of his belt.

By the fifth strike, she yelled out, losing more of her resolve by the sixth. “I’m sorry!” She abandoned all earlier determination when the seventh strike crossed her ass with a hot-iron feel. “Please, Royce!”

“Almost done, Jessica.” He laid the eighth and ninth strokes across the tops of her thighs in rapid succession, giving her brain no time to reconcile the first before the second landed. Tears burned her eyes and her cheeks as they fell. One more. She took a deep breath. Just one more.

Her shoulders tensed, and her fingers ached from their tight grip on the bedding. She gulped and tried to ready herself for the last lash. She rested her forehead on the damp bed and readjusted her feet on the floor. Her legs shook from holding herself in the position with such intensity.

“The last is always the worst,” he informed her, running his fingertips over her ass. Even his feathery touch caused more misery.

She imagined what horror he must be seeing. Convinced her cheeks glowed a dark red, her mortification continued. Angry welts had to be popping up all over her ass. Positive she looked a ruined mess, her face heated.

“Let me know when you’re ready.” He removed his fingers.

She took another deep breath. To ask for the last one, it was too much.

---