Introspections Ch. 02

"Done with your book already? What did you find to read anyway?"

The girl held up the book she had just finished, sarcastically asking him, "Do you read romance novels for pleasure or research?"

He replied quietly, "Those were my sister's. I didn't know I had kept them."

"Where is she? Does she know you've taken up slave training in your spare time?" Over the course of two days the girl had become increasingly defiant, submitting to most of his requests but making it clear she was not happy about doing so.

"Drop it Hannah." He knew she was baiting him, but she didn't pick up on the thinly veiled hint, or if she did she chose to ignore it.

"I take it that's a no. What's she going to think when she finds out?"

"I told you to drop it. You need to learn to do as you're told!"

He ignored her kicking and screaming as he dragged the girl downstairs. He dumped her at the foot of the staircase to unlock the door, then ordered her through it and into the basement bedroom. She stood in the middle of the room with her hands crossed over her chest. "What are you going to do now?" she dared.

"I'm going to leave you to cool off while I do. I'm not going to punish you when I'm angry." He sat upstairs near the fireplace flipping through the abandoned book as he tried to regain his composure. After awhile he sighed, not sure if he dreaded or longed for what he knew had to happen next.

The girl sat on the bed, knees drawn to her chest. She was physically cooling off quickly despite the loose fitting sweats he had given her to wear that morning. Her temper, however, was still simmering. She knew he was angry, had felt the tension building between them over the past two days, but had also found herself unable to stop pushing. She was frightened by what he might do to her, but also determine not to continue simply complying with his every request.

When he entered the room she stood without being asked, again crossing her arms and waiting to see what he would do. He didn't give her a chance to argue, grasping her arm firmly and pulling her toward the main room. She struggled half heartedly, just enough to make it clear she was not a willing participant but not enough to actually stop him.

He had pulled the padded bench to the middle of the room and equipped it with restraints. Releasing her, he turned toward her and crossed his arms over his chest mockingly copying her stance. "Strip," he ordered.

There was the typical nibbling of that bottom lip, this time accompanied by a flash of anger in her eyes. "Make me," she fumed.

"You know, the moments before your first punishment might not be the best time to test me," he pointed out matter-of-factley. Naturally she ignored him.

"Let me be clear here. I am going to spank you, and you are going to be naked when I do. That is not negotiable. I will, however, give you a choice in what happens after. I told you I won't continue providing you with clothes I have to remove myself, so if I have to make you I'll leave you naked. That suits me just fine."

Yes, she was stubborn but she was also rational and remaining naked for an undetermined amount of time was not an appealing thought. Shooting him a look that implied he should keep his distance she angrily ripped the sweatshirt over her head and just as quickly yanked off the pants, throwing both in his general direction.

He didn't give her a chance to object to being strapped to the bench, efficiently pushing her facedown onto it, cuffing her wrists to each leg and running a strap across her waist as well as her legs to keep her firmly secured. He slid a finger under each strap, ensuring they were not tight enough to cut off her circulation.

"Do you know why I am going to punish you?" he inquired.

"Because you want to, and because you don't want me talking about your sister," she retorted.

"I don't like talking about my sister, but I'm not going to punish you for asking questions. However, I did give you a direct order. I have gone out of my way to primarily give you options, but when I do give you an order I expect you to comply. When I say drop it, I mean it."

With that he started in on the spanking, smacking each side of her bottom in turn. He warmed her up with several lighter blows, before giving her a few that were heavier, though still not anywhere near full force.

"Ouch, that hurts!" she objected.

"I told you, this is a punishment. It's supposed to hurt." The spanking continued, with the girl gasping at the harder blows but refusing to give in and beg him to stop.

"I'm not going to cry," she informed him, or perhaps she was talking to herself out loud, he really wasn't certain which it was.

"I don't expect you too. If you can take a whip without crying you can certainly take this." He accentuated the final word with a harder blow that made her buck against the restraints before returning to more moderate strikes on each cheek. "I hate you!" she cried.

"I didn't order you to like me," he responded. After a few more blows he stopped. "Why are you fighting me? I haven't even pushed you yet." He wasn't expecting her angry response.

"Because you won't touch me! It's been two freaking days and you haven't even touched me! Why don't you get on with it already?"

Stunned, he thought back over the last two days. It was true, after his ineffective attempt to physically comfort her after her nightmare he had avoided even casual physical contact, and wanting to give her time to settle in before starting her training in earnest he had almost gone about his days as if she wasn't even there. Eventually, like a petulant child, she'd unconsciously decided even negative attention was better than no attention at all, and she'd certainly managed to get his attention.

Unstrapping her, he helped her to her feet, with her hands now free she automatically rubbed her red bottom. "You're right, I'm sorry," he apologized. Her shocked look indicated an apology was the last thing she had been expecting.

Picking the sweats up from the floor he handed them to her. "Come on," he encouraged as he walked toward the stairs. He motioned for her to go up the stairs ahead of him, and placing a hand gently on her back prompted her toward the master bedroom. She stiffened as they approached the door. "Relax, I'm not going to force you into my bed," he reassured her, leading her through the bedroom into the master bath.

In the bathroom he indicated she should have a seat on the toilet and she did so, hugging the clothes as if reluctant to give them up. He made no move to take them, instead adding bubbles to the stream of water flowing into the large jetted tub. When the tub had filled he gently reached out his hand.

She was still angry, but the bath was tempting, and eventually she relinquished the clothes and moved toward the tub. Ignoring him altogether she climbed in on her own, wincing slightly at the heat.

"Too hot?" he inquired. She shook her head and submerged herself in the water. He simply watched her for awhile, relieved as the tension slowly drained from her face. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo and settled himself on the side of the tub.

"I can do it," she insisted as she reached for the bottle.

"No, let me." The tone in his voice made it clear this was an order, not a request, and she thought abruptly of the sensations in her bottom, though they were almost gone now. Sighing, she turned her back to him and allowed him to massage the shampoo into her scalp, noticing again the faint scent of strawberries. When he finished he rinsed her hair gently with a bucket of warm water.

As the water cooled he glanced around the bathroom considering his options. The discarded sweatsuit lay on the counter and his robe hung on the back of the door, but he chose a fluffy towel instead, offering her a hand. She took it this time, climbing out, he wrapped her softly in the towel and before she knew what was happening swept her into his arms. He was pleased to find her determination to resist him had seemingly faded.

He was sorely tempted to bring her to the king sized bed in the master bedroom, but he had promised not to force her. Instead he carried her to the bathroom next to her room, retrieving her own robe and offering it to her. When she was sufficiently covered he guided her to her bedroom, gently lifting her into her bed and tucking her in. He ran his fingers across her forehead and then impulsively bent down to softly kiss her brow.

"Have sweet dreams this time Hannah," he said as he reluctantly left the room.

The mix of feelings she was experiencing overwhelmed her, hatred toward him and a desire to continue resisting battled with her building feelings of contentment and desire to allow him to care for her, She eventually fell into a restless sleep, and this night she didn't dream at all.