Protege(83)

While he enjoyed the feel of his palm slapping against her ass in an erotic sense, the distribution of pain strictly for pain didn’t appeal to him. Yet he found the idea of letting someone else meet her needs most abhorrent of all.

“Describe to me exactly what you feel when I spank you.”

It had been less than a month and this was the second spanking she’d requested. The first did not demonstrate any erotic gain, as it was clearly delivered as discipline, yet here she was asking again.

“Pain.”

“Not the physical. Tell me what you feel inside.”

Her breathing accelerated in an agitated manner. She breathed as if aroused, but he suspected it was the heightening of a different emotion—one he struggled to identify. “I feel . . . forgiven.”

“Are you aroused, Collette? Wet?”

“No, Sir.”

Her breathing continued to intrigue him. “Describe forgiven.”

She drew in a long breath. “It’s like a weight’s being lifted and I can breathe easier. I feel . . . clear.”

Interesting. A masochist typically derived sexual pleasure from pain, but with Collette that didn’t seem to be the case. “The last time I spanked you outside of sex, did you get aroused?”

“No, Sir.”

He struggled to understand her desire. “Are you doing this because you think it’s what I want?”

Her head lowered.

“Collette.”

“No, Sir. I have the feeling you don’t enjoy spanking me, which makes it very hard to ask it of you.” She was clearly upset.

His hand brushed over her cheek. “Take a deep breath. I’m not upset with you, Collette. Not about this, and we’ve resolved our issue from earlier, setting the penalty at two nights in our own beds. I’m just trying to understand your needs.”

She nodded, but still looked upset.

“Did your parents spank you?”

“I can’t remember.”

It didn’t make sense. Everything about her paperwork pointed to a distaste for violence, yet she was drawn to the act of spanking. He frowned. “Did a foster parent perhaps?”

She shivered, her eyes taking on a vacant glaze as she frowned. He imagined that her memories of childhood, having spent it in so many different homes, were a bit jumbled.

“Collette?”

“I don’t remember.”

Was it a means to an end for her? A necessary step in the healing process? A way to take accountability for her behavior? He wanted to know the root of her need, but he also wanted to know the gain.

Her body began to tremble and he worried she was tearing herself up on the inside while he wasted time trying to comprehend this desire for corporal punishment.

He gently touched her arm. “Come lie across my lap.”

Taking a seat in the chair, he moved the ottoman out of the way and directed her to his lap. Her trembling stopped as her body folded over his legs.

His palm dragged slowly over her behind, treading lightly over one cheek, his nails scraping deliciously against the slap mark on the other. Strange that her body did not quiver once with arousal, yet in bed she could find release from a good swat. He briefly ran his touch between her legs. Dry.

“I’ll give you five and then that will be the end of this. You’ll accept my decision, as your body’s already suffered enough today.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Sir, not mon Monsieur. The French term was coined in a moment of confusion, an endearment he cherished from her lips. Yet addressing him as Sir was reserved for general purposes. This was not an intimate moment for her, but personal nonetheless. He wondered if she’d separated the disciplinarian from the lover for a reason.

His palm came down quick, starting with the cheek he’d already marked. He did another and she gasped. The third was on the unmarked cheek, as was the fourth. His chest ached as he prepared for the fifth. Deep down he felt this punishment was undeserved, yet he sensed her need and struggled to fulfill it. It would be totally different had this been an erotic exercise.

The fifth slap came quick and hard on her left buttock. She broke into a sob as her shoulders shook. Carefully, he pulled her to his chest and held her. “I have you. It’s over now. I have you.”

She curled into him, soft mews slipping from her throat as though trying to hold them in.

“You may cry, Collette. I won’t let go.”

Her fingers tightened on his arm as she pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder and broke. His mind was troubled as he held her, his hand slowly stroking down her spine and rocking her gently. She cried for the better half of an hour and when she finished, she shivered and sniffled every now and again.

He regretted his earlier decision that they sleep apart, but he supposed that made it a fair punishment, being that he should suffer too. Luckily, they still had a few hours left before that time came. As it was, he couldn’t let her go. Not in this state.

She fell asleep in his arms and Jude considered taking a nap in the chair, but he didn’t want to drift and unintentionally loosen his hold, so he carefully moved her to his bed. In true Collette form, she didn’t flinch. He never saw a woman sleep so soundly in his life.

When he was certain she wouldn’t be waking anytime soon, he went downstairs and called Ezra, hoping to get his opinion on the spanking situation.