Taking His Hand is Book Two in the Under His Roof domestic discipline series.
David and Rachel continue along their exploration in domestic discipline.
David, a professional disciplinarian, spanks women for a living. After Rachel, his newest client, came to see him, he couldn’t take his mind off of her. She’s smart, pretty, and very submissive.
Rachel, too, had feelings for David. When he asked her to dinner, she readily accepted. But as she got to know him outside of the professional setting, it was clear that spankings would play an important role in any relationship they had.
Which, however odd it made her feel initially, was a comfortable idea.
Taking His Hand is an erotic novella intended for an adult audience.
Other eBook and print editions available soon!
Chapter One: Rachel
I’m staring at the floor from my strangely comfortable position across David’s lap, enjoying the sensation as he caresses my stinging ass through my red cotton panties.
“How do you feel?” he asks softly, giving my left cheek, then my right, a firm squeeze.
I stifle a moan and attempt to sound appropriately petulant.
“We aren’t done yet.”
Of course we aren’t.
I allow him to help me up off his lap. He points to the corner.
Shuffling to my place, I feel the heat in my face as I flush with embarrassment. In spite of everything—our arrangement, the common understanding that this is just how things work between us—I’m still conflicted about time in the corner. To think. About my behavior.
God, it’s humiliating. Incredibly effective, but humiliating.
I knew I deserved what he was giving me. I’d been a bit of a brat this morning. Our usual lazy lovemaking was interrupted by a phone call from David’s parents. They’re flying back from vacation this afternoon and need a ride home from the airport.
I heard David agree to pick them up at five o’clock.
“I thought Marilyn was doing that,” I’d said sharply when he got off the phone. His sister had volunteered for the job since David was the one to drop them off.
He shrugged. “Something came up.”
Then, while I was groggily putting together breakfast, David managed to keep stepping right in my way. After attempting to dance around each other a few times, I’d stormed out of the kitchen.
Why I was so upset by something so minor is beyond me, but I went to the bedroom, slammed the door, and threw myself onto the bed.
A few minutes later, David came in with a tray of food and coffee. Though I wanted to glare at him, his warm smile pinned me down and all I could do was smile back.
“You need some discipline today,” he said, setting the tray on the nightstand beside me.
I folded my legs in to my chest and hugged my knees tight.
“Eat up. Shower if you want. Then go to the discipline room. Understood?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. He kissed my cheek and left me there, alone. Which in some ways is the worst part. I hatewaiting for punishments. I ate a few bites before taking a quick shower, then went to the discipline room straight away. It would be better to get the spanking over with. But, David took his sweet time meeting me there. By the time he arrived, I was a nervous wreck, wringing my hands together and pacing around the room.
And now, here I am, standing in the corner and waiting for him again. This time, though, I’ve got a sore butt. He’d taken me over his knee and spanked me hard with his hand, over my panties, until I was kicking, wiggling, and begging him to stop.
I know my ten minutes are nearly up when I hear him come back. He closes the door gently behind him and I tense because I’ve got more punishment coming my way. I hear him approach, smell his musky scent, and I cringe, then relax, as he rubs his hands up and down my body, pressing his front against my back.
“You’re fortunate, Rachel,” he murmurs, brushing my hair behind my ear and giving my earlobe a little nibble. “When you need to be spanked, I can take care of you right away. My clients have to make an appointment. They have to wait.”
As I contemplate whether this makes me fortunate or unfortunate, David slips his thumbs in the waistband of my panties and slides them down over my hips.
“It’s been more than a week,” he whispers. “You’ve been such a good girl since you moved in. Part of your attitude problem is my fault, I suppose, for waiting so long.”
I stifle a moan as he slides his hand under my tank top, over my stomach, and up to my breasts.
“Maybe I should put you on a schedule. Weekly maintenance spankings. What do you think about that?”
My ass tenses at the thought, but my belly flutters in excitement as well. The truth is, I love that David puts me over his knee. I love that he doesn’t take shit from me. I love that he’s in charge, I love his presence, his manliness. His power and his strength.
My instincts tell me to respond to the schedule idea negatively. To dismiss it as unnecessary. But my will to please him overpowers my instinctual response and I say, “If you think it would be good for me, my love…”
He inhales sharply, and I feel his erection against the small of my back. This is turning him on and that makes me hopelessly happy. His clients don’t get to turn him on like this. He can’t get sexual with them during professional spanking sessions. With me, he can be free. I’m proud of that. I’m proud of us.
“Good girl,” he breathes. He lifts my tank top over my breasts and I hold my arms high to help him. He runs one hand through my wet hair and the other down my arm, to my wrist, where I’m wearing an elastic hairband like a bracelet.
“Put your hair up.”
Still facing the corner, I pull my hair up into a high ponytail. Then he grabs my upper arm and turns me, roughly, to face him.
“Take three deep breaths,” he says.
I obey, staring into his eyes. He’s so calm. Stern yet kind. I know in my gut he’s about to make me suffer, but at the same time I know it’ll be worth it. The angst I felt earlier, the unneeded anger about absolutely nothing…it’s been replaced by a calm. This punishment is temporary, and after, all will be well again.
Breathe. One. Two. Three.
He nods, and points to the daybed.
“Lie down on your stomach.”
I do as instructed, moving aside a few of the pillows and pulling down the duvet to lie on the clean sheets. When I’m in place, I watch him walk purposefully toward the cabinet where he keeps his implements. He takes his time, but I know him well enough to know he’s already got a plan in mind. He’s not contemplating what he should use on my ass. Right now, he’s moving slowly, knowing that every second he adds to the wait makes me more nervous about my fate.
“I think it’s time I introduce you to the riding crop, my dear,” he says, pulling a mean-looking black stick from the cabinet. He shuts the doors and turns around to face me, holding the crop across his body so I can see it. It’s as long as his arm. One end has a thick handle that he’s wrapped his hand around comfortably, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to hold.
Perhaps he’s going lightly on me today.
He strides across the room to my side. He’s fully clothed, and I’m totally naked, except for a pair of white athletic socks. That dichotomy—nude and clothed, vulnerable and powerful—creates an internal dichotomy of dread and comfort. He’s in charge. I just need to trust him. He always takes care of me.
He runs the tip of the riding crop along the curve of my torso, then taps my ass lightly as I shiver at the touch of the cool leather. In an instant, he flicks his wrist and snaps the crop against my skin. I gasp as I feel the sudden, sharp pain and instinctively reach my hand back to protect my behind.
“Your maintenance spankings will be soft or hard, depending on your attitude and behavior. But other sessions, like today’s, where you need to be punished…you can expect that you will not enjoy your punishment sessions.”
“David, please,” I whimper, my eyes locked on the riding crop. I can’t look away. It’s so unassuming, yet I know David doesn’t lie. If he says it will hurt, it will definitely fucking hurt. I suspect the soft snap I felt was just a preview—a glimpse of the potential.
He reaches across my body, grabs a pillow, and hands it to me.
“Put your head on that. Your hands go underneath it. They do notmove. Is that clear?”
I nod, and he presses his lips together, shaking his head.
“Is that clear?”
“Yes, David,” I whisper, sliding my hands beneath the pillow, wiggling my ass in anticipation.
“I want you to close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Try to take your punishment well. Understand?”
I close my eyes and breathe, clasping my hands together underneath the pillow and bracing myself. When he begins, I gasp, moaning loudly at the sharp, stinging pain. It’s unlike David’s hand or any of his paddles he’s used on me so far. I have tears in my eyes immediately. I wonder if I can take this for him.
“Oh! David, please!” I cry as he increases his pace.
My hips are bucking, moving from side to side, though I try my best to focus on keeping my ass in place for him. I’m clutching the pillow now with all my might, and I throw my face into it, groaning in agony.
He doesn’t speak as he works, leaving me to focus on the sting.
I don’t think I can take it. It’s too much, too different. It’s too raw and too sharp.
“Please! David, please! I’ll be good.”
He doesn’t respond, just slowly continues. He doesn’t break his rhythm. I know when each stroke is coming. I just don’t know where he’ll strike next.
He snaps the crop against my upper thigh and I shriek in pain and twist my body, lest he strike me there again. As I move, I inadvertently offer him my other thigh, the outer part, and he takes full advantage, striking me firmly. It seems no matter how I move, he’s one step ahead of me. He anticipates where I’ll shift and he knows how to strike my vulnerable skin no matter what position I’m in.
Just when I think I might hop up and crawl under the bed to hide, he pauses. He places the crop across my lower back. Then he rubs my hot flesh, squeezing my ass firmly, patting me gently, tracing his fingers around the welts he’s made.
“We’re not quite done,” he whispers, running his hand along my crack.
“I know.” I know because I don’t feel that relief that comes when he punishes me. It’s close. We both know it. But I’ve got more coming.
He moves the riding crop to the floor while keeping a hand on the small of my back, reminding me he’s there. Then he slides his hands under my hips and lifts me up so I’m on my knees, my face still planted firmly in the pillow, my arms still wrapped around each other underneath.
I’m very exposed in this position. Even more when he urges my knees apart and tilts my hips a bit so my back is arched. I know he can see everything and I wonder if I’m obviously aroused. Who wouldn’t be, though, being manipulated this way?
David grips my waist in one hand and, without warning, starts spanking me hard with the other.
“Holy…fuck! Ow!” I cry, my knees and legs flailing behind me, kicking the bed as I try to escape his spanks. On top of the welts from the crop, his firm smacks hurt like hell, and I break my position, trying desperately to block him with my hands.
“Rachel, knock it off.” He swats my hands away before resuming.
I remind myself this is temporary, but it’s no use, the sting is just so much. Before long I’m exhausted. I stop struggling against him. My legs go limp and I rest my head in the pillow. I’m crying gently, letting go of my stored up tears.
A moment after I stop struggling, David stops spanking. This was the point we’d both been waiting for. He slides onto the bed, leaning up against the wall, and pulls me up to sit next to him. I wince as my sore butt hits the sheets and he smiles, pulling me in under his arm and holding me close.
“Good girl,” he says, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.
“Thank you.” I snuggle my head into his chest, relief washing over me.
We sit together like that for a few minutes, both lost in our own thoughts. I’m thinking about my emotions, and what control he has over them, and how good it feels to give him that. I don’t know what he’s thinking about but he seems content and that makes me happy.
“Tell me what you thought of the riding crop,” he says finally, running a hand down my cheek.
I think for a moment before responding. “It was like being bound, though I wasn’t bound at all. But no matter how I moved, you never broke the beat. You worked like a metronome…and you didn’t stop.”
He hugs me tight against his chest. “Different tools do different things. You’re right about the riding crop. It’s easy to keep a pace going. With a paddle, or even with my hand, it’s harder as you struggle.”
“I don’t like the crop.”
“I didn’t expect you would.” He kisses the top of my head. “You acted pretty rude this morning. I think you deserved what you got.”
I nod against him. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you, sweetie”
David holds me for a while longer until I’m refreshed and ready to face the day. I admit, my attitude is about five times more positive. I turn on my favorite playlist and clean the house while David goes outside to do some work on his new office out back. Mitchell, his older brother, comes over at eleven and they work until three, with me bringing them fresh supplies of ice water, snacks, and finally sandwiches to keep them fueled up and working hard.
I’m as excited for the new office to be finished as David. He’s still using the house to receive his clients, which means we have to coordinate our schedules. On Thursday, he asked me if I could grab a drink with Samantha after work so he could be sure to have enough time with one of his more important clients.
I agreed, if a bit begrudgingly, and David was empathetic with my response. While I understand he has a professional relationship with the women he spanks, it still makes me uncomfortable if I really stop to think about it. He sees them naked. He’s intimate with them, on both a psychological and physical level. As professional as it all may be, the fact of the matter is he’s an extremely attractive dominant man who spanks women for a living.
Hell, it would be weird if I didn’t have a negative emotional reaction to that. What if he isn’t professional with them? What if some of the women are more attractive than me? What if he bonds with them, in a deeper way than he does with me, as he disciplines them?
He’s confident it’ll be less weird for me once his office is built and he can keep his clients out of the house. I’m hoping he’s right. I can see the signs that he’s hosted a client. I notice when the chair at the dining room table—where he has his ‘talks’ before each session—is left out rather than pushed in as it should be. Or when the client wears a particular perfume, clearly too much of it, and I can smell her in the doorway as I walk inside after work.
Long after his clients are gone, I feel their presence. So, yes, the new office will help. It will keep work away from the home, which is probably a good thing regardless of his profession. Hopefully it will make things easier on me. Maybe it will quiet the nagging voice in the back of my head that wonders if he really keeps everything professional. Or does he lust after them? Stare at their asses like he gazes at mine?
I shake the negative thoughts from my brain as David and Mitchell wander back inside, done for the day.
“I’m working tonight, or I’d go with you,” Mitchell says to David, shrugging apologetically.
“No worries. You’ll see Mom and Dad tomorrow night.”
“Erin’s making some pie or something. You want us to bring anything else?”
I give Mitchell a hug before he goes. He’s sweaty, and smells a little like David though their bodies are quite different. Mitchell’s shorter, stockier, and appears stronger than David though I’m not sure who’s stronger than whom. They’re both hot as hell. It’ll be interesting to meet their parents, who must be attractive people, considering their offspring. The youngest sibling, Ryan, is such a Casanova. He’s got the charm David has, but it’s a little more boyish and less outwardly responsible and dominant.
Then, there’s Marilyn. The first time I met her, she was out with David for dinner and I’d been totally jealous, assuming they were on a date. She is drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, lean, with flowing blond hair that could be straight out of a shampoo commercial. Even when she wears it up, it’s still perfect, not a hair out of place.
“You want me to go with?” I ask as David heads to the bedroom to shower.
“To the airport?” he asks, turning to face me, a goofy grin on his face. “Or…to the shower?”
I giggle and he gives me the ‘come hither’ finger. So, I join him in the shower, lathering him up, soaking in his smell, his warmth. When we’re clean, he pushes me gently until I’m up against the wall, his hand sliding between my legs.
“Do we have time?” I ask, my breathing heavy as I allow my hands a moment to linger on his strong, incredible chest.
“Mmm…” he murmurs, kissing my neck. The water splashes against his back, some drops hitting me as they ricochet off his skin. He’s hard, his erection resting against my inner thigh, and I reach down to squeeze him. My touch makes him shudder, and he presses me harder against the wall.
“I have to be quick,” he says, smiling down at me.
“I’m okay with that.” I flash him a playful grin.
David makes a low growl and picks me up, carrying me out of the shower and into the bedroom. Without bothering with towels or anything at all, he throws me onto the bed and climbs in between my legs.
“We’re all wet!” I say, laughing.
“Hmm, really?” he replies, raising his eyebrows. He slips a finger over my pussy, checking to see how damp I am. I’m wet from the shower but I know I’m slick with desire, too. He can turn me on instantly.
When he slides inside me I moan happily, arching my back to take all of him. I love it when he takes me…I love it when I feel him on top of me, his power and strength…God, I love this man…