Under His Roof (8 page)

Marilyn doesn’t think it will be a problem.

My sister is the only one in my family who knows my true career. She found out by accident when she stopped by my house during one of my sessions. I always take the precaution of putting a ‘With a client, please do not disturb’ sign on my front door, but Marilyn ignored that when she heard strange sounds coming from inside. She called my cell phone, then my house phone, before finally knocking on the door with all her might.

I sat her down and explained what I was doing with my client. While it took Marilyn a long time to understand, she eventually came around. She accepts my business as my business and we leave it at that. And now, thank goodness, I have someone I can talk to about my relationships.

“So you spank them, even when you date them?” she’d asked, somewhat incredulously.

“Yep. When they need it.”

She snorted but when she saw my expression was serious she stopped laughing. “Yeah. Um. I’m sure some women like that kind of thing.”

Since that conversation, my little sister has done some of her own research among her friends and has concluded that I’m actually not that abnormal. “Some of them
love
getting spanked, David!” she’d said. “They can’t get enough of it! Unbelievable, I never would’ve thought…”

So, she’s concluded that Rachel will not mind my lifestyle choices. I have yet to figure that out.

The rest of my family thinks I do ‘life-coaching’, which in a sense is kind of accurate. Kind of.

The long drive home from Marilyn’s apartment is good for me. I love driving. It gives me a chance to think, to relax. Nothing but me, my tunes, and the road in front of me.

At home I feed Sparky and then make a beeline to my computer.

Rachel:

Did you get home all right?

David

She doesn’t respond immediately. That’s fine. I have seven e-mails from clients and I go through them one by one.

I make room for one woman’s request for an emergency session tomorrow, but I ask her to come by early and I warn her that I have company arriving in the afternoon. I want to spend my time preparing for Rachel. But, I try my best to accommodate the urgent needs of my clients. Aria, like Rachel, just needs a firm hand on occasion. I offer a half-hour session in place of our normal hour, as I want to be sure to have time to prepare for my date.

Finally, just when I’m ready to close up and go to bed, Rachel e-mails back.

David,

I did. Thank you for asking. Even called a cab for Mr. Intoxicated. See you tomorrow.

Rachel

I smile. This is good news. And, even better, she’s responsible.

The next morning, Aria, my client, arrives forlorn and in obvious need.

“Come on in,” I say warmly as I hold the door open for her.

She is wearing sweatpants and a tight violet t-shirt that hugs her strong, thin frame. Her glasses do nothing to hide the sadness in her eyes, and her brown hair looks as though it hasn’t been combed in days.

“Having a bad week?” I ask as I lead her to the kitchen. I pour her a glass of milk—her favorite—and sit down with her.

“More than a bad week. Paul broke up with me. My boss hates me. It’s just too fucking much sometimes.”

“Shh, Aria. Language,” I remind her gently. I don’t have a problem with swearing, but she's confessed to me that she doesn’t like how much she curses.

“Sorry.” She looks down to the floor and the tears start flowing. “I know you don’t have a lot of time…”

“Come on, sweetie,” I say. I hold out my hand to her, helping her up, and I lead her down the hallway to the discipline room. I close the door firmly behind us and smile to myself as I prepare my chair. Aria is a cute young woman. She’s not book-smart, but her kindness and sweet personality make her intelligent in her own way. I dislike her boyfriend for breaking her heart, and I doubt I’d like her boss either—Aria complains about the woman all the time. Aria is almost child-like in her sincere attitude toward life, which is something I’m always trying to remind her is a good thing. Sincerity will get her a long way in this world.

She’s frozen in place, as usual, and I haul her over to the chair. I sit down and yank down her sweats—she never wears panties to our sessions—and I pull her over my lap.

“Tell me why you’re going to be spanked, Aria,” I say with a stern voice.

“Because…” she sniffles, “because… I don’t know!”

“Because you need it.” I put a hand on her naked rear, warning her that it will begin soon. “You also need to know you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I have! I screwed up a ton of files at work. My boss was livid. And it was my fault, I know it was.”

“Maybe. I think your boss has punished you enough for that, though. Wouldn’t you say?”

“She did let me go home early when I broke down about my boyfriend. But that was probably just to get me out of her way.”

I chuckle to myself. It's funny that the majority of conversations Aria and I have take place when she's laying over my lap. She never seems the least bit shy once she is put in position.

“I’m spanking you because you need it, not because you misbehaved. Got it?”

“I guess.”

“You need to feel like someone is in control, don’t you?” With that, I land a sharp smack on her right buttock.

“Ouch!”

Another smack, to her left side. Her skin is so pale that my hand print appears almost immediately. Red art, right on her bottom.

Aria is small, so she is easy to control. I hold her tight and soon she is kicking and whimpering in pain. I spank her quickly and firmly. She’s in tears again, hitting the ground with her fists, trying to struggle and get away.

I pause after thirty spanks and ask, “Have you had enough?”

She mumbles something and I whack her thigh. “Enunciate, Aria. Had enough?”

“No. Please, just a little bit more.”

“This is going to hurt. Can you try to be strong?”

She’s sniffling and I think I see that she’s nodding. I begin again and she tries not to cry out in pain but I'm spanking hard and she just can’t help it. Her legs are kicking, giving me a very lewd view, and she twists her torso to try to escape the slaps. But I’m much, much stronger than her and she is helpless to escape the spanks, which is exactly what she needs.

After thirty more spanks, she is exhausted from struggling. I don’t make her stand. Instead, I scoop her up and carry her to the daybed. I lay her down on her stomach and rub her upper back as she calms down.

“Thank you, David,” she says in between sniffles.

I hand her a tissue and she props herself up to blow her nose. “Feel a little better?” I ask.

Even though her eyes have obviously been crying, she looks refreshed and happier. She nods and manages a smile. “I’m glad you could fit me in. I should go, though. I told my boss I had a doctor’s appointment.”

My eyes narrow and Aria’s face goes from happy to nervous in an instant.

“Lying, Aria,” I say.

“I know,” she whispers.

“You’re not done here,” I say, probably more forcefully than necessary. Aria and I came to an agreement months ago that lying should not be a part of her life. She is very aware that I will punish her. I get up and debate what I’ll use on her behind for her lie.

“David, it was just because I had to come see you. I really needed this,” she says as she watches me open up my chest of implements. “I didn’t know what else to do! It’s not like it matters, Rachel doesn’t care anyway. She’d rather I not be there.”

I cock my head to the side and think for a moment. Rachel. It can’t be true. That would be way too coincidental. Shaking my head and smiling to myself, I pull out one of my rattan canes.

Aria sees it and is near hysterics. “Please, David, please! I’m sorry! I’ll never lie again.” She’s sitting up now, her eyes wide, and she’s shaking her head back and forth.

“You can say no to this, Aria,” I remind her. “I think you deserve it. But if you’d rather go, that’s just fine. No hard feelings.”

I see her will to resist deflate almost instantly. She doesn’t want the option of backing out. For her sake, I move things along quickly. “Up you go. You can place your hands on the mattress.”

Aria slowly stands, turns around, and bends over. Her hands fiercely grip the duvet on the mattress. She is nervous, trembling just slightly. I have never caned her before.

“Four strokes. Count them,” I say. I place the cane on the middle of her bottom and then with a firm flick I snap it against her skin.

“Oh!” she shouts, and she dances back and forth from foot to foot. She does not lose her position and I’m proud of her for that. “One,” she says.

I lay the second stroke just under the first and admire the thin white line that forms across her skin.

“Two!” she squeals.

The third stroke goes under the second and I can tell she is having a hard time staying in place, but she is being strong.

“Three!”

For the last one, I raise my arm in the air and give her a real stroke of the cane across the first three lines on her bottom. She gasps as the pain hits her and then howls loudly, losing her position at last and jumping up and down while clutching her ass with her hands.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!”

I wait patiently for her to calm down and I put the cane away. When she has stopped her hopping and moaning, I turn to her and say, “That last stroke was a preview. You lie to your boss again, you’ll get four just like that one. Understand?”

“Yes, David.”

“Good. Get dressed. I’ll be out near the front room.”

Aria is dressed quickly and meets me, still rubbing her sore behind through her sweatpants.

“Thanks again, David,” she says, a bit sheepishly. I know she hates being punished for real things.

“Anytime.” I rise and get the front door for her. On an afterthought, I ask, “Say, where do you work?”

“Lakeside Advertising. Why?”

Rachel. I shake my head. I suppose it isn’t really that surprising, though the coincidence makes my head spin a little. I’ve never had two clients who knew each other without knowing the other uses my services.

“Just curious,” I say. “E-mail or text me when you get to your destination, OK?”

“Like always,” she says, walking away. She sounds happy and that makes me happy. I’m glad I made room for her this morning.

With my appointment out of the way, I do a little straightening and play fetch with Sparky before heading out to get some ingredients for dinner. I have no idea what Rachel likes to eat so I get some things for a few different dishes and decide to let her pick. I can eat the other meals later in the week.

I wonder how she feels about our upcoming date. Has she clued in to the fact that a relationship with me comes with discipline? I assume so, and the fact that she hasn’t run away yet makes me hopeful.

At home, I put a bottle of wine in the fridge to chill and I get some yard work done. At three, I finally take a shower and wait outside on my porch for her to show up. I’m guessing she won’t be here soon since she’s such a working girl, but I’m pleasantly surprised when she pulls up my driveway at quarter to five. That means she is excited to see me. I’m sure of it.

~7~

Rachel

When I get to his house my stomach is full of butterflies. I have never been this nervous about a date in my life. What is it about David that is making me so crazy? He’s outside on his porch, reading a book, and he looks very casual. Jeans, t-shirt, socks. I’m glad I decided to change before leaving work. I bought a cotton turquoise dress last week and it’s perfect. Casual and sexy.

He looks happy to see me and I think he seems a little nervous.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey yourself. Welcome back.”

I pause as I think of the first time I made this walk from my car to his porch and then into his house. To discuss the impending discipline session. “Thanks,” is all I can manage to say.

“You’re earlier than I expected.”

Shoot!
I was so excited to see him that I left work early. Did arriving early make me seem too eager?

“Got sick of being at work,” I say.

“Have a seat,” he says, patting the padded bench next to him.

I do, and his golden retriever meanders up to say hello. “What’s his name?”

“Sparky.”

“Seems like a good dog.”

“The best.”

“I’m sorry if I’m too early.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you’re here.”

Ah, relief
. I relax into the bench and he puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a comforting squeeze. “Are you as nervous as I am?” he asks.

I grin. “Thanks for bringing it out in the open.”

“No problem. I’m good at that kind of thing.”

“Why are you nervous?”

He exhales slowly before speaking. “Because I think I might like you, Rachel. And we barely know each other. It’s a scary feeling.”

“Yeah.” I lean against him, trying to get used to the way he feels. His hand moves from my shoulders to my back, rubbing me lightly, and I begin to relax.

“Want to take a walk?” he asks. “See my property?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll get my shoes. Just a sec.”

While I wait I pet Sparky who has decided I am a better spot to rest his chin than anywhere else. Sparky has grey fur around his mouth and I know he must be getting old. He reminds me of my yellow lab—Zippo—who I had when I was a child.

“Ready?” David helps me up and we wander to the side of the house where he has a vegetable garden. He holds my hand on the way and I can’t help but remember the last time his hands touched me. I shiver even though it’s warm out.

“You must have quite the green thumb,” I say, admiring his tomato plants.

“Want to pick a salad?” he asks, and I laugh.

Together we harvest tomatoes, green peppers and a huge bundle of lettuce. David sets them aside and leads me to his backyard.

“I own ten acres here,” he says as we walk. “And my brothers and sister own the adjacent lots.”