“When I went in there the other day, Anna showed me the letter from the landlord.”
“I was going to take care of it. She shouldn’t have done that.”
“How were you going to take care of it?”
She looked away, rubbing her now sweaty palms on the sides of her jeans.
“Meg,” he began, leaning on the desk. “Do you understand this isn’t just about you? You’ve got a single mom employed at the bakery not to mention the part-timers.”
“One part-timer. I let go of our driver,” she volunteered.
“So who’s doing the deliveries then?” he asked.
“Me and Anna. We split it up.”
He shook his head and cleared a few things off his desk.
“I was going to tell you,” she began.
“When? When you were evicted and lost everything, damaging my credit as your co-signer?”
She hadn’t thought about that. She hadn’t thought about any of it. The owner of the building was a nice man. She was planning on talking to him, but then the property management company got involved. As for it not being about her, he was right. She was so wrapped up in doing this on her own that she hadn’t given a thought to Anna’s situation. To what would happen to her if she lost this job. And then there was Jake’s credit on top of everything else.
But she just didn’t need to deal with this right now. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
Jake stood and set the notice from the management company on the desk facing her.
“Bend over the desk, take down your jeans and panties,” he said, unbuckling his belt.
Her heartbeat picked up and she forgot all about Sean Connelly for the moment.
“Now, Megan,” he said, pulling the belt from its loops and doubling it up so he held the buckle in the palm of his hand. She unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them and her panties to her knees in one go. She then bent her torso over the desk, supporting herself on her forearms, watching him move behind her from the corner of her eye.
“No safe word, this is punishment. Don’t bother counting,” he said.
He had barely finished his sentence before he brought the belt down hard, harder than he’d done in the past. Megan gasped with the pain of it, her hands fisting as she tried to stay bent over. But she didn’t have long to dwell on that initial stroke because he quickly established a rhythm, striking hard and fast, barely giving her time to catch her breath in between the strokes as he covered her bottom with lash after searing lash of his belt.
“Jake,” she began, shifting her hips from side to side, bending her knees, clenching and unclenching her bottom.
“Be still, Megan, and keep your legs straight and together. Keep your eyes on that letter in front of your nose and maybe you’ll learn that next time you need to come to me.” He didn’t break his stride as he spoke, whipping her bottom and thighs hard, the leather wrapping with some of the strokes, catching the sides of her hips.
“Please!” she begged, reaching back to cover herself once.
“Hands on the desk.” He struck her thighs as he said it until she moved her hands and gripped the edges of the desk.
“Please Jake, just… Ah… a break. Ow! Please… just a break.”
He kept striking, ignoring her altogether.
“Please!”
“Ok, a break.” Jake stopped, his breath coming short. “You’re right,” he said from behind her. “A break is a good idea.”
She turned to find him moving the small wooden stool to the part of the wall she’d come to call her corner but when he set it there and turned back to her, she quickly faced forward again.
“Come here.”
She straightened and shuffled over with her jeans down past her knees. He reached out and took her arm, giving her a minute to step out of them so she was naked from the waist down.
“Up. On your knees. You know where your hands go.”
The wood was hell on her knees but at least she had some reprieve from his punishment.
“Ten minutes, then we’ll resume,” he said.
“Don’t be mad, Jake,” she said, turning to him.
He inhaled and exhaled, looking down at the belt in his hand and then back at her. “I’m not mad but I am disappointed. It should never have come to this. I gave you a chance to tell me the truth the other night and you didn’t. Now you’re going to be punished hard for it.”
“I know,” she cried, sobbing more so now than when she was being whipped. “I know and I deserve it.” She moved her hand to wipe at her face and he brought her a tissue.
“Calm down now, it’s not the end of the world. Take your punishment and we can put it behind us, Megan. I already paid the rent and talked to the management company. Shh…” he took the tissue from her and wiped her face himself as she nodded and tried to stop crying. But it wasn’t just the notice or the loan or Anna or the bakery. He was so good. He wasn’t even mad, he was just… he deserved better than her. She had been a fool to think she could forget her past. Even if she could, it would always be a part of her and it would never forget her. She deserved everything he was going to do to her tonight and more.
“Calm down, Megan,” he said again, his voice more stern this time. “This break is for you to calm down.”
She nodded, sucking in a shaky breath and resting her forehead against the wall. Maybe if he punished her hard enough, that pit in her stomach would go away.
“I’m ready,” she said, turning to him.
“You sure?” he asked, not believing her.
“I am. I want to get it done.”
He nodded. “Back over the desk.”
This time she gripped either side of the desk, keeping her legs together, and determined to take what he gave her, however awful it was. And the first stroke told her just how awful it would be. She bit her lip to keep from calling out, her already sore bottom feeling doubly sensitive because of the short reprieve he had allowed her. This was so different from when he had spanked her before, even when he had used the belt. There was nothing erotic in this. This was punishment.
As much as she tried to stay in position, in the end, he wound up holding her down with a hand at her back as he finished up, turning her bottom and thighs into a throbbing inferno.
She didn’t move when he stopped. Instead, she lay her cheek on the desk and let the tears fall over that letter, smearing out the ink and making a mess of his blotter.
“I’m sorry,” she began when he pulled her to stand, turning her. “I’m so sorry about everything, Jake.”
“Shh. It’s over, it will be fine. Just remember you can always come to me. I promise not to interfere in the bakery but let me help you. I want to help you. You’re my wife, Megan. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Oh yes, she did. She did have to do this one thing alone.
“I’m tired,” she said, her face feeling blotchy, her eyes dried out, all her tears finally spent.
“I’ll take you up to bed.”
He carried her upstairs and lay her on her side on the bed to undress her before tucking the covers up to her chin. She was almost asleep when he turned the light out but she reached for his hand.
“Stay with me for a little while. Please Jake.”
He looked down at her for a minute, then slid off his shoes and climbed in behind her, tucking her body into his. “Meg?” he began.
“Just hold me, ok?” she said, her voice cracking as more tears somehow formed, spilling onto the pillow.
“Ok,” he said, hugging her tight. “Sleep now, baby. You’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise.”
Chapter Eight
Megan didn’t get out of bed until close to noon the following day. Jake called Anna for her, telling her she wasn’t feeling well. She felt bad to leave Anna with her share of the baking but at least it was a quiet week. She just needed to get through the next few days, decide what she was going to do and do it.
She took two Advil before stepping into the shower, feeling as though she were walking through a dark cloud. Her vision was foggy at best. She had to rush though because she was meeting Josie for lunch in half an hour. Keeping this from Jake left her with a weight in her stomach and she knew he wouldn’t like her seeing Josie. She would have to lie to him or at least omit telling him about lunch when he asked her about her day.
She slipped on a dress, grabbed a sweater and her purse and walked out the door. It wouldn’t be forever and she and Jake would get back to normal once this passed. She had to believe that.
Josie was already seated at the restaurant when she got there twenty minutes later. She had imagined Josie would be as worried as she was, or at least somewhat troubled, but was surprised to find her friend with a glass of wine, her expression that of someone without a care in the world.
“You’re late,” Josie said. “And you look like shit.”
“Thanks.” Megan sat down, flinching a little as the memory of last night forced itself upon her when her bottom made contact with the seat.
When the waiter came, Josie ordered a glass of wine for Megan. “No, no wine for me. Just an iced tea please.”
Josie gave her a look and took a large sip of her own glass before ordering a second.
“I haven’t eaten anything,” Megan defended, some part of her rebelling at having to do so.