Capturing Kate (18 page)

Sloan raised an eyebrow. “Your language gets very creative when you’re mad.” She sensed a smile behind his eyes.

“Shut up! You’re the worst of all.” She didn’t mean it, not really, but she was frantic again, needing something to help her back to sanity. The panic attack stretched out its claws and made contact. “You’re a douche-nozzle ass-wipe crotch rocket.”

“All right.” Sloan’s voice was firm. “Kate? Snap out of it.”

She felt the panic begin to slide into the puncture wounds and her breathing quickened. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Deep breathing. Look at my eyes.”

“Fuck your eyes and the craptastic optic nerve behind them. Talk about deep breathing again and I’ll put a tree trunk into your lungs. What, is deep breathing your solution for everything? War in Iraq? Deep breathing, people! Comet heading this way? Breathe deeply and it will turn around!” Her voice rose. “The sink’s backed up again and—”

“I’m going to spank you.”

The words startled her into silence, and her breathing dropped abruptly back into a normal rhythm. “What?”

He bit his lip, then nodded decisively. “You disobeyed me by mentioning the code to Allison. I’m going to punish you for that.”

Chapter Fourteen

“But she could get a rock to talk. I’m, like, way less challenging than a rock. So it’s not my fault.”

“I’m doing it anyway.”

She took a step backward, her mind absorbing this new revelation. As images of his hand and her ass flowed into her mind, the panic got pushed aside, just enough to let her voice calm down. “But that’s not fair.”

“Why not?” He crossed his arms.

“Because. She double-crossed me. She super-agented me. She skunked me. I don’t know the words. She mind-controlled me with her evil and ugly gray eyes. You probably learn that in agent school, right? It’s not fair to put me up against an interrogator and expect me to keep a secret. That’s like, you know, putting a little kid into a room with a thousand ice-cream cones and cookies and saying, ‘Don’t even touch a crumb.’ It’s impossible. I cracked. She cracked me with her skillz.”

He smiled. “So she broke your defenses.”

“Yes. Yes! That’s what she did. And that’s why she’s a, well, those things I said before. You remember.”

“I certainly do.” His smile faded, but there were telltale wrinkles at the sides of his eyes. “But a promise is a promise. I told you I’d spank you if you broke my rules, and you broke them. So your ass is mine.”

“It’s mine.” Stubborn, she crossed her arms. The panic was almost gone now; the exhilaration that came with sparring, and with the mix of dread and anticipation that the word ‘spanking’ brought, were dwindling it down to nothing.

“Not for the next hour.”

“An hour? You can’t spank me for an hour!” She backed up.

“I can spank you as long as I want. And you’re going to obey me, or I make it longer.” The way he looked at her, a smolder with sex wrapped up in dominance, told her that this wasn’t just about spanking.

She felt moisture surge between her legs. “What if I say no?”

“I don’t think you will.” His cocky smile made her seethe, even though he was right.

Suddenly he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She screeched and struggled, then relaxed into his embrace. His touch was warm and comforting and he held her for a while, stroking her back. “You okay?” he whispered, putting his hand on her neck, and the tenderness of the gesture almost made tears come to her eyes.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Panic attack gone?”

“Uh huh.” She could feel his strong chest through his shirt, the planes against her cheek. It felt good.

“Good. Then we can move on.”

She looked up at him. “On to what, exactly?”

“We’re going to go outside, and you’re going to pick some switches so I can whip your naked ass with them.”

“We’re what? Oh, no, I’m not.” She gave him a warning look.

“Kate? Remember what we talked about earlier this week? What you agreed to?”

“Yes, I remember! But I didn’t do really anything wrong this time. And you said spanking, not switching. I don’t think this is fair.”

“I do. Plus, I’ve noticed that each time I hold you down and punish you for your disobedience with a good hard spanking, you’re so much calmer and more relaxed the next few days. Think of this as therapy.”

“Making me cry isn’t therapy.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“It’s a different kind of therapy. Yeah, it hurts like hell, and you hate being forced to take it. But you like it, too. And once your endorphins kick in and you get that high from the pain and the anger and the submission, the humiliation, then you relax and feel better. Not so anxious.”

“No, I don’t! You have no idea what goes on in my head.”

“You told me the other day that it does work,” he challenged her.

“I was out of my mind. I was saying all kinds of crap. It’s not like I was under oath.” She glared at him.

“So the last spanking didn’t actually help relieve your guilt, clear your head, and reduce anxiety. The endorphin rush didn’t help fix the chemical imbalance that was making you upset and sad.”

She blushed. “That doesn’t mean I have to like the punishment part. Can’t we just skip to the apology at the end part, and the feeling better part, and you know, maybe the, um, sex part?”

“It’s the entire process that makes it work,” he reminded her. “And I know what goes on in your behavior, and believe me, you’re much easier to be around after you’ve had a good whipping. So contrite, so ready to work together. And that’s what we need. And that’s why you’re getting one right now.”

“But—”

“No buts. Follow me. I’ll show you how to select a nice, whippy switch. Once you learn the technique I’ll expect you to cut at least three good ones. Bring them to me back in here.”

Swallowing hard, she got to her feet. “I don’t think switching me is a very nice thing to do.”

But the look on his face made her start to tingle with arousal. Even though she knew his punishment would hurt, she thought about last time and how he’d fucked her afterwards, so hot and hard that she’d never had a better orgasm. Would it be the same way this time?

“No, it’s not nice at all. I think that once you feel the sting and burn of the switch, you’ll be a lot more liable to listen to me. You think the cane was unpleasant? Just wait until you have switch stripes on your ass. The sting and itch will be unbelievable.”

She put her hand to her jeans. “Sloan.”

“Outside. Now.”

He gestured to the door, and she slowly went out, giving him a pleading look over her shoulder.

“Go to that willow tree.” He pointed, and she walked over, nervous.

He took out his knife and cut a long, thin willow branch, about three feet in length. “About this thickness, Kate. Thick enough to hurt and hold up for some good solid strokes. Not so thick that it’s no longer pliable. Strip off the buds and notches like this.” He demonstrated. “Got the idea? I expect you back inside with a good bunch of them in ten minutes. You take too long? You’ll get my belt first.”

She blinked back tears. “I don’t want to gather them myself.”

“I know.” He gave her one slap on her ass, and she yelped. “Get to work.”

He headed back into the cabin, leaving her there with the sample switch in her hand.

Kate glanced around. It was sunny, and the grassy meadow beside the cabin swayed with fragrant wildflowers. Bees made a background hum, broken by the sharp trills of a mockingbird. The warmth of the sun on the back of her neck was a hot hand, inviting her to lie down in the grass and relax. For a split second, she was transported by the smell of the fresh, wet earth and the fragrant nature to her childhood, to a day on her grandma’s farm, to the beginning of a blue-skied day that stretched out vast and limitless, offering such possibility that she was nearly frightened to look at it head on, unsure she could live up to the potential offered in the green and the blue and the shine.

Then she came back to her new reality and sucked in a breath as the willow branches swayed in front of her face in the faint breeze, teasing her. God. How did he expect her to actually cut a switch that he’d use on her ass?

But she’d agreed, that other day; she’d told him he could punish her, and today she hadn’t said her safety word. She was curious, truth be told, about the switch and how it would feel. Even more eager to find out what would happen after the punishment was over—would she get that insane high from the pain and the arousal twined together? Would she float off into the blue sky, relaxed despite the pain, leaving behind the crushing anxiety of her situation that made her chest heavy, a thick brick of discomfort lodged inside her body, all sharp edges and crumbling with fear?

She found a branch that looked similar to the one he’d chosen; found that it was harder to use the knife than expected, and she made a mess of the cutting, leaving ragged ends that jutted out. Like ripping celery. The branch was pretty clean, so it didn’t take long to remove the side twigs and smooth it down. Curious, she slapped it once against her arm, and yelped. Shit! Even a light stroke was wicked and fierce. She didn’t think it was going to feel good on her ass.

It took only a few more minutes to cut several more branches, and when she went inside, Sloan was waiting for her, sitting on the straight-backed chair, arms crossed.

He pointed to the spot in front of his spread legs. “Come here, Kate.”

She approached, stood in between his thighs, and handed the branches to him. “Here.” Her voice had a tremor. He took them, examined them. “Good job. These are perfect.”

She bit back a response.

“Now take off your jeans and panties, and bend down over the bed. I’ve arranged a pillow to make your hips a bit higher. I’m going to use the cuffs on your hands, because this is going to sting a lot and you’re going to want to reach back.”

She gulped. “How much will it sting?”

“Some people say a switching is worse than the cane. You can tell me how they compare, later.”

Her anxiety ratcheted into high gear and she put her hands protectively on the seat of her jeans. “I don’t want to.” She trusted, by now, that his words were worse than his punishments—it was part of the game. Still, if he said it was going to hurt, she believed it.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I told you to do it. Now.” He pointed at the bed. “If you delay, you get more strokes with the switch. I promise you don’t want extras, Kate. Trust me on this.”

She made her way to the bed, and slowly pulled down her jeans and panties. He stood up and slapped the handful of switches into his palm, making her start. “Sloan!” Her voice came out small and pleading.

“Lie down like I told you. Reach forward and lay your chest down on the bed, hips right on that pillow. Legs spread nice and wide. I expect you to hold that stance throughout the switching or you’ll get extras. Understand?”

“Yes. Sir.” The ‘sir’ came easily off her tongue, and she blushed into the comforter. He came around the other side of the bed and leaned in to wrap the cuffs around her wrists and attach them together. He looked into her eyes.

“Kate. You ready?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He patted her cheek, then got up and went around the bed, and she stiffened when she heard him behind her. It was going to start. He was going to switch her!

He ran a hand over her buttocks. “Five lighter ones to get you used to it, as a warm-up. Five medium ones for your punishment. Then five severe strokes, as a reminder to obey. I’ll give extras if I need to. Tell me yes, Kate. You need to accept this.” His voice was granite.

She sobbed out a reply. “Please punish me, Sloan. I deserve to be switched for my behavior.” Saying the words made moisture surge between her thighs. She sucked in her breath, waiting… waiting for him to begin. The anxiety made her heart pound with anticipation and dread mixed together.

“Very well. We’ll start with one of the ones you cut for me.”

He raised his hand and she heard the noise of the switch travelling through the air, and before she fully processed the sound the switch hit her ass, and she reacted like a cartoon character, leaping and twisting with a shout. “Ow! Sloan! Fuck!” The pain was worse than the cane, he was right. It was different, somehow—stingier, brighter, like pure lightning energy painted across her ass in a thin blazing line. How could you describe something so shocking?

He rearranged her. “Kate, you need to stay in position. If I need to tie you, that means five extra. Do you want that?”

“No, no. Please. No.” She shook her head vehemently. “It’s too hard, Sloan. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. These are the lighter ones. Relax your body and absorb the blow. Yes, it hurts. I know. Accept the pain as your burden for disobedience. Let it hurt.”

“I can’t.” But she wanted to. She loved this, even as she hated it. It was impossible to put into words the strange dichotomy inside her, to explain the otherworldly place this treatment took her. Tears streaked her cheeks as he brought the switch down again, again. Again. Again. Each strike was measured and full of brilliant pain, washing her entire body in a glow of discomfort. “Sloan!” But her tears weren’t from pain, they were her emotions, her anxiety, washing out of her, drop by measured drop.

Still, she brought up one foot to her calf, trying to bring relief. He tapped the foot with the switch lightly. “Down. Both feet down. I don’t want to remind you again.”

“I’m sorry. Okay. I won’t.” She snuffled into the comforter, grabbing handfuls of it in front of her face. She pulled hard at the cuffs, trying to free her hands, to get them to block the switch, to rub her ass. She wanted it to end, she wanted it to keep going, she was all opposites at the same time.

“Time for the next five. These will be harder. Get ready.”

She took a deep breath and pushed her hips into the edge of the bed, and re-grabbed the comforter. Still, she wasn’t able to stay in place as the switch landed harder than before, the burn hotter and angrier this time, the pain going deeper, lingering longer. “Ouch!” she wailed, dancing from foot to foot.