In His Cuffs(35)

"Come in."

She closed the door behind her but stood there, waiting for his  instructions, still unsure how to act. Bend over the desk? Lift her  skirt? Remove it?

"Have a seat, Maggie." When she perched on the edge of the chair, he asked, "You wanted to see me?"

Of course he wasn't going to make this easy. Then again, he hadn't been  privy to her thoughts and had no idea what she was going to say. "I came  to ask if you'll forgive my behaviour."

He braced his elbows on the arms of his chair and linked his fingers together, appearing at ease.

"I've been thinking about our last conversation … " She was stumbling  around and she hated it. After brushing her hair back from her face, she  met his gaze. "What I mean is, damn it, Mr Tomlinson, I want to be with  you. I accept your punishment and hope I can earn your forgiveness."

"You're certain you know what you're offering?"

"To get my butt blistered," she said wryly. "Mr Tomlinson."

"And after that?"

"To be in a relationship with you"-she looked down, then back up-"as your submissive."

He nodded, not betraying his inner thoughts. Damn, he was not the man  she'd spent a weekend with. At his house, although he'd set the rules,  he'd been gentler, encouraging, even teasing. "To be clear, my  punishment is meant to reinforce the behaviour I expect from you. It's  not because I am angry, it's because you were willingly and wilfully  disobedient."

"Yes, Mr Tomlinson."

"I know we discussed the fact that I would use separation as a way to  punish you, but that doesn't seem appropriate atonement in this case."

"I've already been separated, and it hurt," she admitted.

"Hurt us both," he said.

"I agree, Sir, that I still need to make amends." Her stomach plummeted with her words.

"I would normally administer ten stripes, but for two reasons, I decided  on five. First of all, you've never been punished by me. And secondly,  you were frank when I asked if you'd had any intention of telling me  about the Hoskins deal."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I have no expectations that you will properly comport yourself. You can  take as long as you want between stripes, and I will wait for you to  get back into position before administering the next one. Your safe word  stops it, and you go home alone. You can use ‘eclipse' as many times as  you need to. I have all night."

The temperature in the room was frigid, chilled by the coldness in his  eyes. She ached to have him look at her with tenderness again. "I  understand, Mr Tomlinson."

He stood and shrugged out of his suit jacket. She watched, fascinated,  as he draped it over the back of his chair. He unfastened his cufflinks  and dropped them. A sense of foreboding descended over her as they  clinked together then thudded onto the gleaming desktop. She didn't  blink as he rolled back his sleeves, exposing his forearms.

"I have a cane in my coat closet. Please fetch it."

His tone, his actions, his command, made the world slow down. He'd  inexorably placed her in a submissive frame of mind where nothing  existed but the two of them, and pleasing him. At its base, it was that  simple. And Mr Tomlinson didn't demand more than he first offered.

Her knees wobbled as she rose to get the long, thin rattan.

He extended his hand and she cast her gaze at the floor as she offered it to him.

"Clear off my desk," he instructed. "You can put the items on the credenza, and close the blinds while you're there."

She did as he instructed, moving aside the stress balls she was tempted  to squeeze, then turned to see him test the cane in the air. Its sound  rent the air and chilled her. No way could she endure five cuts from  that horrible thing.                       
       
           



       

"Plenty of subs have managed through history," he told her as if reading  her mind. He placed the cane on the desk then closed and locked his  office door.

"Strip."

The order surprised her. She'd expected to lift, even remove, her skirt, but hadn't anticipated he'd want her naked.

Her hands trembled as she removed her clothing, and she half-expected  he'd help her undress. Instead, he watched her with a predatory gleam.

She left her clothing in a pile on the credenza while he moved aside the visitor chairs.

"On the desk," he told her.

Being bent over it would enable her to take it easier, and no doubt he'd reached the same conclusion.

He didn't offer her a hand, making it clear it was her choice at every point.

Once she was in position, vulnerable, she trembled. His tone of voice was so very distant, and she felt lost and alone.

"Ask me to punish you."

She looked back at him. The starkness on his face stunned her. His  eyebrows were set in a narrow, resolved line. His chin jutted-there  appeared to be no joy in this for him. And that pleased her. When he'd  beaten her before, he'd appeared determined, but it had been softened by  his intent to please and satisfy her.

Maggie took comfort from his features. It was as if they were in this  together. Neither of them wanted this, but they both understood it was  necessary. "I promise to be more honest with you in future, Sir. Please,  Master David, punish me."

Their gazes met.

"Christ, Maggie. Do you know what you said?"

"I acknowledged you as my Master, Mr Tomlinson."

"I'm honoured," he told her. "Thank you for that. But it won't make this easier on you."

"I suspected as much, Master." She grabbed hold of the far end of the  desk. But that didn't help. The first stripe landed on her buttocks,  ricocheting through her body, making her scream and lose her grip. Fuck.  She'd never felt anything like that before. Tears filled her eyes.

She had no idea how long it took her to get back in position, but there was no doubt of the effectiveness of his cane.

Master Tomlinson struck her again, and agony tore her from the inside out.

She fought and struggled to right herself, telling herself over and over that she was almost halfway through.

He didn't speak to her as he placed the third below her buttocks.

She fell forward, sobbing. She curled up into herself, knowing this was  the first time she'd cried. He'd told her he'd have her in tears, and  Master Damien had warned her as well. They'd all assumed it would be  because of the beating. But it wasn't. She was shattered by the  emotional wedge that had been between them, devastated by his distance  even now. She'd never liked to be pampered and cuddled, and now she  needed it, needed him.

He picked her up from the desk, carried her to a chair and held her  while she sobbed. She felt as if she'd kept herself in a shell her whole  life, refusing to experience everything it had to offer. And if she  wanted to be with David, he wouldn't allow her that luxury.

David stroked her hair and soothed her.

She appreciated the fact he cared about her enough to demand she meet  him where he was, holding nothing back. She settled against him. This  was the first time he'd touched her since he'd confronted her about her  transgression. She never wanted to go this long without his tenderness  again.

Minutes dragged and shadows lengthened before she pulled back and said, "Can we get it over with?"

"You can continue another day."

"Please, no." He'd never let her shirk her duties, and having the  remainder of the punishment looming in front of her would consume her  thoughts. "I'm ready."

"You're certain?"

She didn't want to leave the comfort of his chest, the protection of his arms. "Yes, Master."

Maggie made her way to the desk. Its surface was marred by her tears and  sweat. She feared it would be worse when they were finished.

Now that he'd done his worst, broken her down, and shown her what to expect, she could manage the rest.

This one caught her thighs and she sobbed, but didn't scream,  surrendering to the agony instead of fighting it. When they'd talked  about a punishment spanking, she'd told him it would be difficult for  her because her Dom would be distant and remote. That wasn't the case.  She knew this deepened what they shared. The way he'd cradled her had  nurtured her. This lesson, she'd never forget, even though it wasn't the  one he'd intended to deliver.

More than anything, she wanted things to be the way they had been at his house.                       
       
           



       

This was a means to make that happen. In that regard, she looked forward to having it over.

"Last one," he told her when she offered herself to him.

He seared her, and before she'd absorbed the impact, he was there, sitting on the desk, gathering her close. "Maggie mine."

She'd wondered if she'd hear those words again.

He kissed her forehead and swiped away her tears. "We'll go to your  place," he said. "I'll drive you in your car. Mine should be safe enough  in the parking garage."