Under His Roof (6 page)

She squirms and I’m amazed. The change in her demeanor is astounding.

“I need you to spank me, Mr. Jacobs.”

“I intend to. Do you understand that you will not find this arousing?” I intend to make this spanking hurt.

“I understand,” she says.

“You have fifty coming. Try to stay still.” I grip her waist hard anyway and mentally prepare myself to restrain her. I begin with medium force and Suzanne just gasps. By the fifth whack, she is squirming hard.

“Stay…
still
…” I command as I give her two more solid whacks.

“OH! FUCK!” she cries and her legs are kicking hard. I pause for a moment and tuck her fighting limbs under my right leg, pinning them into place.

“Do I need to restrain you?” I ask.

“No, sir!”

“You have a long way to go,” I remind her.

“I’ll be good, I’m sorry Mr. Jacobs!” she cries.

Through the next ten smacks she is good, but when I raise my arm to deliver a particularly hard swat, she’s putting her hand back to protect her bottom.

I keep my hand high in the air and I wait.

She whimpers.

I’m patient.

She moans loudly and removes her hand and I get back to work. I can tell she’s trying to be brave but by stroke number forty she is crumbling over my lap.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” is all she keeps saying. I can’t tell if she’s crying yet but I let up just a little. Her ass isn’t even that red. I’ve given Suzanne much harder spankings before. But I know why she’s acting this way. None of her other spankings were real. This one, though, is hitting her hard, deep inside her. Just like Rachel felt when I gave her a very minor spanking.

At fifty, I let her up and send her to the corner. I leave her alone and check my e-mail once more, hoping for something from Rachel. Nothing. I’m aware that my growing obsession for Rachel may be unhealthy but I don’t care. I want to hear from her, badly.

Rachel is a busy woman
, I think to myself. She’s got an important job and she probably has already forgotten about me.

No. That isn’t possible. Her ass is definitely still sore from her spanking.

Back in the discipline room, Suzanne is sniffling in the corner. I walk to stand beside her and speak softly. “You did very well, Suzanne. I think we’re making good progress today. Are you all right?”

She nods.

“Are you ready to continue?”

“OK,” she whispers.

I go to the daybed and arrange pillows for her to lie across. “Come here, Suzanne. Time for round two.”

She doesn’t look at me as she walks across the room. I guide her to lie right over the pillows so her butt is in the air and then I retrieve the second paddle—one of my most severe implements.

I know that Suzanne knows this. She picked it so that I would give her what she needs.

I bend down and stroke her hair, trying to comfort her because I know there is a hurricane of emotions inside of her waiting to be released.

“I want to tie you down,” I say. “But only if you agree.”

“All right,” she whispers. She knows this will be a tough lesson.

I use thick cotton straps to secure her wrists together and then I hook them to the head of the bed. I do the same with her feet at the foot of the bed and then I stand back to admire her. She does look attractive to me now, now that she is doing what is right. I can see the transformation inside of her and my heart swells with pride.

“You’re doing so well, Suzanne,” I say.

She swallows and tries to smile. “I feel horrible,” she says.

“You can tell him what you did?”

She shakes her head, then pauses. “Maybe. But I need this first, David.”

I’m stunned that she used my first name.

“I do,” she continues. “I know I’m going to hate this but I want it.”

“I want your behavior to change. If you want to come here to be spanked, that is fine. But I’m sick of you getting into trouble, risking your husband’s career, just for some fun with a disciplinarian. I’m better than that, understood?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Fifty,” is all I say in response.

Suzanne tenses and waits and I plan to take my time. To be quick would risk hurting her.

The crack of the rubber against her flesh startles even me! She gasps loudly in pain and moans as the agony spreads through her behind. I admire the mark the paddle has left on her buttocks. It nicely covers both of her cheeks, and my expertise will make sure the impact is well distributed.

I work as slowly as I can make myself, at times even using my watch to give her a half minute in between each blow. She is crying and I’m doing my best to ignore her. As much as I like to help my clients grow for the better, it pains me to hear them cry.

At twenty five spanks I set the paddle down and drop to my knees to check in with her.

“I can stop now,” I say. I brush some of her blond curls from her face and try to comfort her with a warm smile. “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

To my disbelief she shakes her head. “Please, David. Finish it,” she chokes.

I sigh, not sad about her decision but not happy either, and get to work continuing the punishment. She is in such agony that it is hard for me to continue but she never says ‘stop’ and I really want her to get what she needs.

She is taking it, and I am watching her transform.

This
is why I do what I do. For these moments. When I give a client something no one else in their life can give them. It is unfortunate that there aren’t people in Suzanne’s life that she can trust to treat her this way, to spank her and scold her.

At forty, I pause. “You have ten more to go. Do you have anything to say for yourself, Suzanne?”

She speaks softly, but her voice is full of strength. There is no hesitation to her words. “I’m sorry David. I’m sorry to you and to my husband.”

“You’re doing great. I know you’re sorry. Are you going to try to be a better wife?”

“Yes!”

“I have a request for you,” I say. I whack her hard with the paddle and she howls in pain. “I want you to strive harder. Fulfill your potential.” Another firm spank makes her buck against the ties that hold her down. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, David! I promise!”

“Eight more.”

The last eight spanks could hardly be called spanks. I hit her lightly because she’s already where she needs to be. Her emotional pain has surpassed the physical and she is letting it all go. She needs no more pain but she does need me to finish the job.

When I’m done I untie her. She looks at me, teary eyed, and her mascara is running down her cheeks. I’ve never made her cry before.

“I’ll give you some time,” I say, squeezing her shoulder in a loving way. “I’ll be around, just shout if you need something”

I leave the door open and give her the time she needs to heal. When she finally comes out and finds me, she is still sniffling but she looks refreshed. Like she’s been to a healer. Her confidence has returned and she winks at me. She holds out her hand and I take it and we shake.

“Thanks, David,” she says. She’s sincere.

“You’re very welcome.” I’m elated by her behavior. “I’m so happy you came to see me today.”

“Me too.”

I watch as she heads to the front door and I see that she’s ready to go. Back to her life. Her husband. Reality. I follow her out and as she leaves she turns back to me.

“I… I don’t know when I’ll need you again.”

I smile. “Suzanne, I know you don’t.”

She looks relieved and I am fairly certain she’s just fired me. Which I’m happy about.

That afternoon I receive a ridiculous sum from a Mrs. Suzanne Phillips. With a note: “This is Suzanne’s husband. Thank you for your help.”

~5~

Rachel

One month after my session with David and I’m still feeling great. I’m doing my best to be friendly, with some minor slip-ups, and I’m even trying to train my brain to
think
happy thoughts about people.

But I cannot shake that I want more.

I think back to the session, trying to understand why I would want to be spanked again. It wasn’t as if I derived pleasure from the spanking. There’s just something about the overall dynamic with David that I can’t stop thinking about. He was so caring and sweet. Yet dominant and stern.

I keep telling myself that he is like that with all of his clients. I know it’s true. He is a professional.

I just wish I had someone in my life like him, that I could be close to. It could even just be a friend, though I long for a strong-minded boyfriend. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to correct me a little if my behavior slipped.

I have been asked out exactly four times in the last year. Two of them were men from work and I promptly shot them down. One was a guy from the gym. I went out with him once and that was that. He was just so…
doting
. Opening doors is one thing, but it was like every single thing he did was for me. I can’t take that kind of pressure. I already have a team of employees at the office who do the same damn thing.

The fourth guy was one that I actually enjoyed. We chatted in a friendly way and he made me laugh. He was kind without being a pushover. When I suggested we go to a restaurant he didn’t like, he actually told me he didn’t want to. Amazing.

But he never called me back and Samantha, who had hooked us up, didn’t have much to tell me about why.

Sighing heavily and feeling sorry for myself, I debate e-mailing David, asking if it was possible that he is single and if so, would he like to try dinner with me? But I can’t do that to him. I imagine lots of his clients try to hit on him. I don’t want to put him in an awkward position.

I just can’t stop thinking about him.

After work, on a whim, I go to Maddy’s Place. The same young hostess seats me, this time in a booth closer to the front. She doesn’t appear to recognize me and I sneak a quick peek at the bar, ensuring there is indeed a bartender, before ordering a dry martini. No olives.

“And a menu? Want to see one?” she asks.

“Yeah. Sure,” I say. I add a quick, “Thanks,” as I’m continuing my effort to be a kind person.

I don’t know if David comes here often. His family owns it, so the chances of seeing him here are higher than anywhere else I can think of. Besides his house. And I’m not about to stalk the poor guy. The waitress comes back with the menu and I order a veggie burger and sip my drink while I wait. This restaurant is actually a nice place; dark, but not too dark, and the music is low enough that I can still think.

I’m halfway through my meal when I see him. He’s behind the bar. He must have come in through a back entrance since I’d been watching the front door like a hawk. He is chatting with the bartender who does look like a younger version of David. I wonder if they share similar career aspirations.

I take another bite, watching him, hoping he’ll turn to look at me. Will he recognize me? Hell, it’s been an entire month. I debate approaching him but can’t bring myself to do that.

The bartender catches my eye and I turn away, blushing.
Shit
. When I peek again they are both looking in my direction.
Shit, shit!
So busted. Then David is there, at the side of the booth, smiling down at me.

“Could’ve e-mailed if you wanted to see me,” he says.

“I’m here for the burgers. I heard they were excellent.”
Good cover
, I think to myself.

“Oh? And?”

“And what?”

“And how is your burger?” He is still smiling and I wonder what he’s thinking.

“It’s fine. Good.”

“OK. Well, enjoy,” he says.

“Wait!” I say, way too loud. I’m blushing and he’s grinning. “Do you want to join me?” I ask. I look up at him nervously. He appears so friendly, but all I can think is: This is the man who took me over his knee and spanked me until I cried.

“Sure. Let me get a beer. And a refill for you.” He picks up my glass and walks away and I exhale, relieved.

Do not hit on him
, I tell myself. But I want to. I want to put on my most seductive face and I want him to fall for me.

You don’t even know him!

He spanks women for a living!

I shake all of my thoughts away, realizing I’m having a conversation with myself, and I concentrate on being friendly and nice. At the very least, I can show him that the discipline paid off.

David is back with drinks and takes a seat across from me. “So how long has it been?”

“A month.”

“And how have you been?”

“Good, actually. Great. And yourself?”

“Good. I’ve been good.” He looks down at his beer and then back up at me and there’s that twinkle in his eyes. Playfulness. Kindness. “How’s your attitude doing?”

I don’t really want to talk about it with him because it reminds me of bending over for him, being paddled, standing in the corner… “It’s fine,” I say after a long pause.

“To be honest, I expected you back.”

I shrug. “I’ve been feeling… nicer. I guess you fixed me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Some people need regular sessions.”

I swallow hard. So much for casual conversation.

“You know, you paid me double for the last session. That means you have a free session waiting for you.”

I squirm. It isn’t about the money. It’s about it being a business with him. I don’t want it to be business. “I don’t know…”

“You benefited from the last session.”

“I did.”

“So why the hesitation?”

Gosh, he is a straight to the point kinda guy
. “I don’t want to say.” Honesty. Best policy.

He’s chuckling. “I always have a hard time reading women.”

“Really? I thought that was a job qualification of yours.”

“I do all right with most. I take a lot of good guesses. But with you, I don't know what you're thinking.”

I’m curious now. “What would you guess?”

“I would guess one of two things.” He’s leaning forward and looking at me hard, though his voice is soft and calm. “You’re either afraid to come back because it was so emotional, and those emotions are hard to face. Or, you think you might like me.”