Hardened (4 page)

“I was, but you still had to finish early and I’m sorry. That’s all, really.”

“Was it your fault?”

“That’s not the point. It wasn’t your fault either, but you were the one to lose out.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Miss MacBride. I asked you if it was your fault.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“So, why are you here? Really?”

“I told you, to apologise.”

“Why, if it was none of your doing? How were you responsible? Why do you think you owe me an apology?”

“Because I was late taking you up there, and I made you leave before your hour was up. I was already on overtime—”

“Unpaid overtime.”

“Yes, unpaid, but I was there anyway, so I could have stayed longer. I should have. I could tell you were angry, so I thought…” I run out of words. This was a bad idea, I should never have started this conversation.

“And yesterday?”

“I should never have done—that. It was unprofessional.”

“Which bit?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, was it unprofessional to hide my camera from the cell search? Or to take it home with you, then bring it back in here for me? Or maybe it was the kiss that’s bothering you, although that was the bit I preferred the most.”

“All of it,” I confirm, utterly miserable. “I can’t even start to think what got into me. Or what you must think. I don’t normally leap on prisoners like that.”

“No? That’s a pity.” He pauses, cocking his head to one side as he peruses me with interest. “Is that it? Have you covered everything now? All your sins laid bare?”

“It’s enough. You’d be within your rights to report me for sexual harassment.”

His eyes widen, then he laughs out loud. “Miss MacBride, you really are full of surprises. You thought I was angry with you? Offended even?”

“Yes, of course. Or you should be. I behaved like a, a…”

“A slut?”

“What? No!”

“No?”

“Well, yes. Perhaps. I’m not like that, though, not really.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Yes. A little.”

“A little?”

His expression of disbelief suggests I’m not fooling him at all. He’s right. Under his questioning I find myself wanting to admit that his displeasure over the last couple of days bothers me a lot. Much more than I at first realised.

“More than a little,” I agree. “I’ll try to make it up to you?”

“I see. And how do you intend to do this, Miss MacBride? Extra visiting privileges, perhaps? Or maybe some more money to spend? Do you have money for me, Miss MacBride?”

“Of course not.” I am indignant at the suggestion. I might have something of a temporary crush on this particular prisoner, which has led to some serious lapses in judgement, but a bent officer I am not. “I just wanted to make it right, that’s all, and if you think I’m going to let you use this as an excuse to get extra privileges then you can think again. It’s not happening.” I turn to leave.

“Wait.” The single word drips with authority. It’s another command; he expects me to obey.

I turn to face him, my hand still on the door. “Yes?”

“I accept your apology, Miss MacBride, but if you were in the wrong over all these matters, and you clearly believe that you were, then that deserves a punishment, does it not? Isn’t that how these things work?”

“Is it?”

“I think so. And so do you. That’s why you’re here.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You came here to be punished.”

“No, I didn’t.”

I tip up my chin as he gets to his feet to pace to the far end of the cell. He leans on the wall eight feet from where I stand and he watches me. His arms are folded across his chest, and just like yesterday he is quite still, quite calm, which is more than can be said for me. My heart is thumping, my breathing rapid. I dread to think what is happening to my blood pressure under that cool, hard scrutiny.

At last, he speaks. “Miss MacBride, you deserve a spanking. A good, hard spanking and I’m more than happy to oblige you.”

“That’s ridiculous!” I can’t believe he actually said something so outrageous.

“Is it? Okay then. You can close the door on your way out.” He makes no move toward me, nor does he return to his bunk. For myself, I am rooted to the spot.

His gaze is unwavering, assured. The corner of his lip quirks. He watches as I struggle to find my next words. He is patient, leisurely almost, allowing me all the time I need to process his shocking and wholly inappropriate suggestion. My voice when it emerges is more a strangled squeak.

“All right. Thank you.”

“Is that ‘all right, thank you, I’m leaving now’? Or ‘all right, thank you, please spank me’?”

My eyes must be like saucers. I can barely comprehend what he is proposing. “What, here? Now?”

“Here and now is where we find ourselves, so yes, I think that would be best.”

“Will it hurt?”
Jesus, where did that come from?

“Oh, yes. Would you want it any other way?”

Probably not.
My pussy is moistening as I anticipate what’s to come, despite the impossible situation. For heaven’s sake, anyone might walk in.

“You have keys, Miss MacBride. If you’re worried we might be disturbed you could always lock the door.”

I gape at him. Did I really voice my only objection out loud?

He smiles at me again and holds out his hand. “Let me, Miss MacBride. The keys, please?”

And—I do it. I actually hand over my keys to one of the prison inmates. It’s the cardinal sin among officers, and I’ve committed it without a murmur of protest. North steps around me to pull the door closed and uses my key to lock it. He then hands the heavy bunch back to me.

“You need to keep these safe, Miss MacBride.” He murmurs the advice, then drops a light kiss on my forehead.

Beyond amazed, I take the keys and shove them back in the pocket of my uniform trousers. Then I stand and stare at him, totally at a loss for what to do next. North helps me out of my predicament by sitting down again on the chair where he was seated when I entered. He leans back, his expression serious though not threatening in any sense. He hasn’t said so, but I have no doubt that if I chose to I could just unlock the door and walk out of here and he wouldn’t lift a finger to prevent me leaving.

“I’ll be spanking your bare bottom, so if you would be so good as to lower your trousers to your knees, then you can lie across my lap.”

“I… I…”

“Do not keep me waiting, Miss MacBride.”

“My name’s Molly.” I blurt it out. It seems important to me that if I’m to accept a spanking from this man, and it seems that I am doing just that, then he should at least know my name.

“Molly? That’s pretty. It suits you. I’m Jared, though I imagine you already knew that.”

I nod. I checked his records, though we never use other than last name and number to address a prisoner. “Jared,” I repeat. “I knew someone at school called Jared.”

“Did you?” He pauses for a few moments, his head cocked to one side. “Are you playing for time, Molly?”

“No, of course not.” I take a step toward him.

“Good, because even though we’re locked in here it won’t be long before someone comes looking for you. We wouldn’t want to be disturbed, would we?”

“No. I’m on my break, I have half an hour…”

“I see. That should be enough time. Shall we get on, then?”

“Yes, of course.” I move to stand beside him, wondering how to proceed. What is the protocol for this? Is there even such a thing?

“Your trousers, Molly. Bare bottom, remember. Perhaps you’d like to take off your jacket, too.”

I chew on my lower lip, every professional instinct, every shred of modesty I ever possessed screaming at me to turn now and run. I do none of that though. Instead, my fingers are shaking as I unbutton my uniform jacket and take it off. I lay it across the bunk I know to be Jared North’s then I unfasten the front of my trousers and lower the zip.

“Push them down, please.” He is implacable and not letting me off any of this. I have no choice but to do as he says. At this moment I have no notion where this craving to be spanked came from, even less where it has been lurking all these years. But once he shone his spotlight on my suppressed desire, I was somehow caught in the beam, unable to step away. And now, if I’m to receive the spanking I apparently crave, he will require me to prepare myself for it. I must bare my bottom, and submit to him.

It’s time to embrace the inevitable. I hook my thumbs over the waistband of my loosened trousers and I shove them down.

I let out my breath, though I’m careful not to let her know I was holding it. Right up to the moment Molly dropped her pants for me, I expected her to bolt for the door. Usually so confident and assertive, the delectable Miss MacBride is completely vulnerable as she stands before me with her trousers around her knees. She hasn’t said as much, but I can read her well enough to be certain this is new to her, her first spanking. I consider myself a lucky man, and I have no intention of blowing this now.

“Would you turn up the volume of the radio?” I tilt my chin toward the TV sitting on the small chest of drawers beside my bunk. Molly obeys me, adjusting the sound to a level likely to at least mask any noise we might make.

I pat my lap, urging her to lay herself across my thighs. Having brought her to this point it’s best to move this on briskly now, not least because we have limited time and I have no intention of rushing at the end. Also in my experience a new submissive requires direction and firm control to get her past the initial shyness and insecurity. From the way she’s trembling in front of me it’s clear that Molly MacBride is painfully shy about what’s going to happen to her and is racked with nerves.

“You don’t have to do this, you do know that? Yesterday’s over and done with, there’ll be no hard feelings.” She’s scared, but it’s taken courage and determination to get this far. I doubt she’ll back out now, but I have to ask.

“I know that. I… I want this. I want you to do this. Please, be quick.” She throws herself forward to dangle across my lap, her stomach on my thighs and her head just off the floor. She grabs hold of my ankle to steady herself. Her trousers are down, but her crisp white cotton shirt is quite long at the back and covers her bottom. I leave that for now as I arrange her more securely. It would never do for her to fall. I lift my knee a little to elevate her bottom—I prefer her pretty little cheeks to be nice and high for what I have in mind.

My cock has been stiffening since she first uttered the words ‘I’m sorry,’ and is rock solid now. She can’t but be aware of my monster boner nudging her waist as I pull her in close and slide my leg over both of hers to trap her in position. I’m not really expecting a struggle, and if she asks me to I’ll let her up anyway, but a firm approach usually pays dividends. No woman wants to be spanked by a man who doesn’t seem to mean business. Well, that’s been my observation anyway. Sure enough, almost as soon as I take charge she settles and her body relaxes.

I take hold of the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “May I?”

She nods, and tenses again. I lift her shirt to reveal her perfect, round bottom, still covered in her pristine white, sheer lace knickers. It’s all I can do to not shoot my load right here and now. I have never seen anything quite so fucking beautiful in my life. Who would have dreamed such a treat lay beneath those serviceable prison-issue trousers? If this little adventure means I end up spending the remainder of my sentence in solitary with the sex offenders and violent psychopaths, it’ll have been worth it. Pity about the parole though.

I shove that unwelcome thought aside. “This is a bare-bottom spanking. Molly. Nothing else counts. I love your taste in underwear, but we need to lose the knickers too.” I hook my fingers into the elastic at the top of her panties, and though my words are issued as a statement, we both know I’m seeking permission.

She nods again, and I slide the lace over her buttocks to settle around her knees with the trousers, then take a moment to admire the peachy loveliness of her heart-shaped bottom.

I cup the lower curve of one cheek in my hand, comparing the pale tone of her skin to the darker shade of mine. Her arse is smooth, unblemished, the flesh firm to my touch. Her muscles contract under my hand as she clenches. I squeeze and caress her curves, first one cheek then the other, and I wait from her to soften again. Several moments pass as I caress her trembling buttocks, then she seems to simply sag across my lap as she sinks into this.

Fucking perfect.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” Her reply is breathy but unequivocal.

“If you need me to stop, just say so. Okay?”

“Don’t I need a safeword?”

Ah, not a complete novice then.
“If you like, though I’ll hear you if you just say you’ve had enough. Or if I think you’ve reached your limit.”

“Okay.”

I’m touched by her trust in me and oddly humbled by it. If I were a less sex-starved and rather nobler man, I’d probably not lay a hand on her at all. Perhaps it’s better for both of us that I’m a selfish bastard and though I take my responsibilities as a dom seriously enough, I’m no saint and I’ll take submission where I can find it. Here, for example, draped across my knees, waiting.

I deliver the first slap, not especially hard, and I follow it with a firm rub to soothe the pain away. Molly lets out a soft sigh, her buttocks clench hard, then she relaxes under my hand. I repeat, this time on the other side, then pick up the tempo a little as I drop light spanks over both cheeks. Her firm bottom quivers with each spank, and quickly blushes to a pale rosiness followed by a deeper pink. As I build the pressure and make the slaps harder she starts to squeak and squeal, wriggling a little but never trying to avoid my hand.

Her buttocks are a bright, flaming crimson by the time I pause, but Molly makes no attempt to get up.

“Do you want more?” Christ, I hope so, but for her first time this has already been quite an introduction to the not-so-gentle art of kink.

“Yes. Please.”

Her voice is shaky but clear enough. I’m happy to continue if she is. I intend to push her to her limit or as close as I can get. She’ll leave here sore, a bit confused probably, but still craving more.