Protege(63)

The women who were gossiping at Lea’s had all been spanked. Yet when she saw them at the next dinner party they were laughing with their partners as if all was forgiven. Was it that simple?

Her need for vindication paled in comparison to her desire for Jude’s forgiveness. He wasn’t angry. Anger came with rage or hostility. He was disappointed. She’d thrown her towel, had a mild tantrum, and spoke to him in a tone she knew was disrespectful. She was wrong for all of that.

But she was also upset. Why couldn’t she square away her feelings about the necessary space between her and Jude? He didn’t owe her personal intimacy. He’d given her more than the necessary closeness for what she needed to learn. Her hunger for more was not his fault and she had to stop holding it against him.

“Collette.”

She jumped as he snuck up on her again. “I thought you went to bed.”

“No. I was on a call in the den.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, though. I’ll walk you up.”

Relief swamped her. He hadn’t forgotten, nor had he purposely overlooked her.

He gently took her arm and she wanted to lean into him, but she kept her back straight. More apologies weighed on her tongue, but that wasn’t what he needed. Opening her door, he walked her to her bed and pulled back her covers.

“I’ll leave you to change. Good night.”

“Jude . . .”

He stilled but didn’t turn to face her.

Her shoulders wilted. “Good night.”

He left.

Shutting her eyes, she sighed. There was only one thing to do.

She removed her clothes. Staring in the mirror, she studied her round bottom, the skin smooth and white. Swallowing back her trepidation, she slipped out of her room and retrieved the paddle from the kitchen. When she returned to her room she was out of breath.

It can’t be that bad.

Lifting the paddle, she turned it this way and that. Postponing it only seemed to amplify her fear. She went to the connecting door. Her hand closed in a fist and she knocked lightly.

The shuffling of his steps preceded the slide of the key fitting in the lock. The door opened and she held out the paddle, presenting it to him. “I’m very sorry I disappointed you, Sir. It was wrong for me to let my emotions control my actions when I should have control of them. Next time I promise to speak to you about my concerns and not blame you for things outside your control. Please take back the authority. I want you to have it. I trust you.” Her words started in a stiff tone but ended in a desperate plea.

His eyes moved over her face. “That was very beautifully put, Collette. I accept your apology and forgive you. Would you like to come in so we can address the punishment and lay the matter to rest?”

Swallowing, she lowered her gaze and stepped through the door. “Thank you, Sir.”

He grabbed her upper arm, his fingers banding tightly around the muscle and hauling her back to his front. Adrenaline rushed through her as she gasped. Maybe a normal person would be afraid, being grabbed by a man set on spanking her, but all she felt was a rush of excitement, a dark anticipation and satisfaction to feel his touch again.

His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “I’m very proud of you.”

Her knees weakened as she sank into his strength. After such a drought of his presence, his words of praise hit her like a much-needed rain. She leaned into him and sighed. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m really sorry this time.”

He kissed her cheek. “I know you are, peach. Go lie over the edge of the mattress, feet on the floor.”

She nodded and went to the bed. It was tall enough that her back wasn’t strained the way it had been in the kitchen. Folding her arms, she rested her face on the bed and waited.

His palm brushed slowly over her behind. “I think fifteen should suffice.” The first wallop came with little warning, smacking hard across her right cheek.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her upper body instinctively lifting off the bed. His hand pressed to her back, holding her in place.

“Be still, Collette. I will be very upset if you move and affect my aim. That’s the easiest way to hurt yourself.”

Hurt herself? Her ass was on fire!

The next smack came and she cursed. He was hitting her hard, harder than she’d been able to apply the paddle to her own bottom.

The third, fourth, and fifth smacks came down, pelting her sore flesh like cannon fire. Her eyes reflexively started to water, and when the sixth, seventh, and eighth strikes hit, she sobbed.

It occurred to her that she could use her safe word, but that would undo everything her submission had already accomplished. She needed him to finish, needed to take her sentence, accept her penance so they could move on.

Nine and ten ripped into her like fire, burning her already ravaged flesh. Once she reached eleven and twelve she started counting backward. Only three more to endure.

Her breath jaggedly sucked in as the paddle came down again. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her neck stiff with tension. No matter how she tried to relax, it was impossible. Fourteen stung worst of all. She wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.

His hand brushed over her welted flesh and she gasped. Though his touch was delicate, it was too much. The soft caress was her undoing as a sob ripped from her. His touch withdrew and the fifteenth strike was delivered.

Somehow she’d kept track, and knowing it was over allowed her to finally go slack. Her knees loosened as she slid toward the floor, wincing as he scooped her up and sat with her on his lap.