The law office of Campbell, Blackstone & Park was emptying out quickly for the upcoming weekend. With each departure the building got quieter and darker as the machines and lights were clicked off. It was just the way Stephen Blackstone liked it. His partner John Campbell was gathering his things – Stephen could hear the jingling of keys and the clicking of a briefcase latch in the room next door. Then soft footsteps approached, the sound of expensive leather shoes, probably from Europe
If he knew John, on the hardwood floor. It was hardly noticeable, but Stephen had a keen ear. His staff might say he had keener eyes, as all of them had suffered his stern looks and/or lectures on the smallest of errors that other professionals, even one like John Campbell, would more than likely overlook.
“I’m out of here, Stephen,” John said, poking his ever cheerful face in the door. “Hope you have a wonderful weekend. The offer still stands for dinner tonight. Cookie won’t mind extra cooking.”
John laughed out loud at his own joke, while Stephen forced a grin. John was always making silly jokes, and his cheerfulness often got on Stephen’s last nerve. Lately, everything and everybody seemed to get on his last nerve. He feigned politeness with John, though, because he was, before anything else, his friend. John and his wife, Cookie, had supported him like no others since his own wife had died nearly two years ago. They had given him plenty of time to mourn, more than most people considered necessary he knew that, but lately they were subtly pushing him to start dating, and Stephen had a good idea that a Friday night dinner at their house would involve some amateur matchmaking on Cookie’s part. He wasn’t ready for that.
“Thanks, John,” Stephen responded, “but I think I’ll pass. I’ve got other plans, so don’t worry about me. You and Cookie have a wonderful weekend.” He didn’t really have other plans, but John didn’t need to know that. If he did have a plan it was to be left alone, especially after this past week at the office. Maybe he would read a fun book. Maybe a John Grisham. That might even constitute a plan, he thought.
Observing his partner carefully, John’s smile tightened a bit, and a fleeting look of doubt and then worry passed over his face. “It’s a standing offer, you know,” he said, with a sober smile. “You’re always welcome.”
“Thanks, John. Please give Cookie my love.”
“Will do.” And, with a sharp nod of his head, John turned and left. Stephen listened as the front door opened and closed. He was now the only son in the building. He liked the feeling of being the last one to leave, which he would do as soon as he was finished with the small stack of papers in front of him. He was not taking work home with him this weekend, a break from his traditional habit. The past week had been a killer, and he wanted a break. Actually, he needed a break because he was dangerously close to losing it with his staff, especially Kate, his assistant, who lately had been pushing every button he had.
Kate, otherwise known as Katherine Rose Beckett. Otherwise known as the young woman who needed to take a year or two off from her studies before going to law school. Otherwise known as the young lady Stephen had taken under his wing as a favor to her father, who seemed more concerned about law school than his daughter did. Otherwise known as the young woman with great potential who had barely made it through her undergraduate work, mainly due to habitual absences and general tardiness. Stephen was sure her sloppiness hadn’t helped much either.
The sloppiness infuriated him more than it probably should have, mainly because she honestly had no excuse. He had mentored other young people and was certainly aware of the fact that some of them lacked the social graces he believed necessary in presenting oneself appropriately in the field of law. And, he was compassionate enough to teach them the proper conduct and etiquette that he had been fortunate enough to learn at the feet of his wellheeled and respectable parents, a privileged background he shared with Kate, whose father was one of the sharpest judges he had ever had the honor of knowing.
Her father had been Stephen’s mentor, teaching him the proper way to carry oneself in the courtroom and around clients. He had taught him how to command respect, and one part of that ability was holding everyone who worked for him to high standards. Kate’s father, in Stephen’s view, was everything a man of law should be. Kate, however, was, in the parlance of the younger staffers, “a hot mess.”
He tolerated her for two reasons. First, she was the daughter of the man who meant almost as much to him as his own father did, and Stephen was determined to do him this one favor. Kate’s grades weren’t high enough to meet the admission standards of any decent law school. Well, really any law school. And, instead of pulling the strings he could easily have pulled to get her into a school, Kate’s father had insisted she work in the field instead, hopefully under the eye of a demanding attorney – like Stephen.
The second reason he put up with her was because she was smart and truly had potential. Her low GPA had absolutely nothing to do with her intelligence. Indeed, he rarely encountered such intelligence, especially in young staffers. She would make a formidable attorney one day if she would just grow up and buckle down a bit. Of course, he hadn’t told her any of that. She needed to be toughened and trained, not doted over. And, Stephen Blackstone didn’t dote, at least not on young, spoiled assistants.
This past week, however, had caused him to question the entire arrangement. The final straw had come yesterday during a meeting with Richard and Hannah Ferrier, two clients who were also a part of his social circle. Richard had amassed a fortune through thoroughbred horse racing, and Hannah was a charming woman whose somewhat shy demeanor belied her status as a local socialite. They were, for all of their money, very good people. But money can’t buy everything, and Richard was dying from an aggressive form of lung cancer. Stephen was preparing Richard’s will and helping him get his affairs in order, and he greatly appreciated the trust the couple had placed in him. Kate’s behavior yesterday had threatened that trust.
The appointment had been scheduled for 9:00 in the morning in the firm’s meeting room. Kate had promised him she would be there before that time in order to make coffee and generally have everything in place. Stephen was handling tain parts of the paperwork himself because of their confidential nature. Kate’s job had been to make final copies of everything else and to have those copies ready to sign. Coffee, copies, and papers lined up ready to sign. Nothing too demanding, or so Stephen had thought.
His clients showed up at 8:55, Richard looking haggard but managing a smile and a handshake that, while weak, still conveyed the steady self confidence that had served him well in the racing industry. Hannah was as dazzling as ever, with her blond hair pulled back in an understated chignon. Her white pants flared ever so stylishly and were topped by an expensive looking cardigan twinset in robin’s egg blue. White strappy sandals and a string of pearls completed her look. Classy and elegant, she looked every bit the genteel wife of a horse racing Southern gentleman, which Richard very much was.
She presented a stark contrast to Kate, who came racing in late, wearing one of those skimpy, knit sundresses with, of all things, flipflops. Her bra straps were showing, and her wavy, brown hair was still damp from her morning shower. Stephen knew from his teaching of a law course at the local university that her appearance was normal for her age. He couldn’t understand the flipflop fad, or the trend to let one’s bra straps show, and would never, ever, get used to students coming to class in what looked to him like pajama bottoms. Still, Kate knew better than to wear such attire to work; he had personally discussed this with her more than once.
The papers she had prepared for the meeting were a mess. Wetness, he assumed from her hair, had managed to get on the papers, dampening the ink and causing it to smear all over the place. The papers were in absolutely no condition for signing.
There was no coffee prepared, although he noted a Starbucks cup on her desk.
He also noted the looks on the faces of Richard and Hannah. Richard’s held one of irritation, while Hannah’s wore an expression of disbelief, her big, sea green eyes growing even bigger as she gave Richard a questioning stare. And Stephen couldn’t blame her! The private matter that he was handling for the couple required their complete confidence in him, especially Hannah’s. His ire growing by the minute, he realized he had to gain control of the situation, quickly.
“Kate,” he said, standing up and grabbing the inkstained papers, “I need to see you in my office. Richard, Hannah, this will just take a minute. Please excuse us.”
Grabbing Kate’s arm with his free hand, he guided her out the door, and then, grasping her arm more firmly once they were in the hallway and out of sight of his clients, he walked her to his office and shut the door behind them. Turning on her, his eyes narrowed while his hand maintained its grip on her arm.
“You will go and make additional copies of these papers.” His voice was low and steely, his face inches from hers. “They will be clean when you bring them back to the meeting room, which you will do in ten minutes. You will also make coffee, like you were told to do, and bring that to the meeting room. Then, after the meeting is over, we will come back here to discuss your behavior and get some things straightened out. Am I clear?”
She didn’t answer fast enough for him. Pulling her even closer, he whispered angrily in her ear, “I said, am I clear?”
“Y-yes,” she managed to respond. Opening the door, he led her through, handing the soiled papers to her as he turned to go back to the meeting room.
Returning to his clients, he apologized. “I am terribly sorry. My assistant is having a bad morning, which she is attempting to put behind her as we speak. We’ll go over some specifics in the will, while she makes new copies of everything.” With that, he began to read portions of the will aloud, deciding he would wait to discuss the private matter with which they had entrusted him until the end of the meeting, when he hopefully had restored their trust.
Ten minutes later, Kate entered with a stack of copies that she quickly began to distribute. The copies were crisp and clean. Finishing that, she left, and a few minutes later came back carrying a tray that was loaded with a coffee pot, cream, various sweeteners, stirrers, and three coffee cups. As she poured the coffee into the cups, Stephen noticed her hands were trembling just a bit. He was glad to see it. A little fear might do her good. When she had finished pouring, he, without looking at her, succinctly dismissed her, saying, “That will be all, Miss Beckett.”
The meeting lasted an hour, and after walking the couple to the door and exchanging smiles and polite goodbyes with them, Stephen turned and walked right to Kate’s desk.
“In my office, now.” Without waiting for a response, he strode straight for his office and seated himself behind his desk and started reading over papers. Hearing her come in seconds later, he made her wait for an uncomfortable moment before he spoke.
“Sit down,” he said, not bothering to look up. Once she was seated, he again made her wait before speaking to her. He made a great show of opening drawers and pulling out files, finally settling on one. He hoped she would think it concerned her. Pretending to read the contents before him, he didn’t have to look up to know that she had started to squirm in the leather armchair that was set across the desk from him.
Clearing his throat, he finally looked up to see a blush developing on Kate’s face, one that was quickly working its way down her neck. Her green eyes had grown bigger than usual, the color vivid against her pink cheeks. She was nervously playing with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her finger again and again. Yet, she looked at him straight on, with an air of what exactly? Challenge? He had seen that look of subtle defiance plenty of times in the courtroom. It never lasted long once he started in on a witness. It wouldn’t last long on Kate’s face either.
“If you want to work in this firm, you will never again repeat the behavior of this morning. You will dress ap_”
“I don’t know what is wrong with the way I’m dressed,” she responded, cutting him off, her voice full of sass.
“YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WAY YOU ARE DRESSED,” he shouted, his fist hitting the desk, the hard edge in his voice erasing any look of challenge she wore on her face. Uncertainty replaced it; her green eyes darted nervously, while her lips opened slightly in amazement. He wondered if anybody had spoken to her that harshly in her entire life.
“You know how to dress appropriately,” he continued, he voice lower, but just as stern. “You know how to make clean copies. You know how to be on time. I expect you to act upon that knowledge and not upon some second of silliness that pops into your head and causes you to behave in a way that is not correct. You know better and you will do better.”
Tears were welling in Kate’s eyes, but he didn’t stop.
“You will comport yourself with class in this firm, and I don’t want to ever have to tell you that again. In fact, I won’t tell you that again. I will call your father and end this entire arrangement. Do you understand?”
She finally answered with a slight nod.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“And what else?”
“Wh-what do you m-?”
“What else do you have to say for yourself?” He was close to shouting again.
“I . . .I am so sorry,” she responded, tears starting to stream down her face. She added, her voice trembling,
“I really, really am.”
But he had already turned his attention back to the papers on his desk, ignoring her as she began to sniffle.
“That is all, Kate,” he said, not looking up. Grabbing a pen and a piece of paper, he started writing. “Dry your tears and get back to work.”
“Yes, sir,” she responded, and then stood up. Once her back was to him, he watched her walk to and out the office door, drying her eyes with the back of her hand like a child.
After her scolding, Kate had gone overboard in her efforts to please him, proudly leaving a stack of finished work on his desk right before she had left an hour earlier. If she kept it up, maybe next week would be a more pleasant one.
But Stephen had one more piece of business to attend to before he could say goodbye to the past week. It concerned the Ferrier’s will. He had to send them copies of all the papers, and he needed to prepare the contents himself. All he had to do was write a personal note, fold the papers, and put them in the envelope Kate had already addressed and stamped for him. Then, he was out of there!
Something wasn’t right with the address, though. The name of the road was wrong he had been to the couple’s home several times and was sure that the name was incorrect. Walking to Kate’s desk to get a new envelope, he noticed that her computer was still on. The screen saver was running, one of those horrible aquarium scenes with the swimming fish and irritating bubble noises. The kind he had asked her not to download on the firm’s computers. Did she not listen? He wiggled the mouse just enough to kick off the screen saver, but what replaced it was just as annoying. Facebook. Facebook was off-limits at the office, another rule Kate seemed to have no problem ignoring.
“Damn it,” Stephen said aloud, and then, giving the page a cursory glance, he noticed it contained her latest Facebook messages. Messages in which his own name was mentioned several times. His curiosity piqued, he began to read her correspondence with a certain Michelle Jones-Sexton. The current message read:
It didn’t work. I took your advice and tried to make him mad enough to spank me, but he didn’t go there. I did get pulled into his office and “sternly lectured,” (LOL) which was kind of exciting, but nowhere near as exciting as it must be to get pulled over someone’s lap and spanked. I KNOW it would be hot!! Maybe next week, but I don’t know. He was horribly upset with me, and, to be honest, I was a little scared. Part of me wants this but part of me doesn’t.
Stephen was stunned. Of all the things he might have expected to read, this certainly wasn’t it. He scrolled up the page and read the series of messages that came before:
Michelle Jones-Sexton You know what we talked about last weekend? It finally worked on Michael!! I did everything I could think of to piss him off and even wore short skirts around him so he would be tempted to pull them up, LOL! You won’t believe what I did! I actually picked a fight with him while we were cooking dinner together, and I threw the spatula at him! That did it and before I knew it, he had turned me over his knee, pulled my skirt up and my panties down! He spanked and spanked until I almost cried. IT WAS SOOOO HOT!
Katherine ‘Kate’ Beckett OMG, that does sound hot! I’m not having any luck. I’ve tried all week to make him mad but he doesn’t respond except to tell me what I need to do better. He’s got an important meeting Thursday (with Hannah Ferrier – BOO!) and I’m supposed to help him prepare for it, so I’ll try to really screw something up. Wish me luck!
Michelle Jones-Sexton Wear a dress so he can get to your panties quickly! Remember, I told you my mom said that several years ago the rumor was that he would sometimes spank his wife. OMG! She said his wife let it slip at a party and that he had spanked her when he caught her smoking after she had promised to quit because of her asthma. Mom said that every woman in town got hot when they heard that! Can you imagine? So you know he knows how, LOL!
Katherine ‘Kate’ Beckett Yeah, you told me that juicy story. I asked my mom too, and she remembered it exactly like your mom. You know, my dad used to spank me when I was little but quit when I got older. I know it sound nuts, but I kind of miss it. Not that Stephen (Mr. Blackstone, LOL) is old like my dad or anything. But he is older than me, and he just has this air about him that makes me think he could do it right and not be all goofy about it like you know some guys would be. I guess I trust him for some reason. It’s just really hard to explain. And I know why all those women got hot when that rumor was going around – he is HOT!
Michelle Jones-Sexton LOL! I know he’s hot. I saw him in the grocery last Sunday and he was smokin’! God, those blue eyes just kill me. Try to screw up really bad and dress in a short skirt or skimpy dress. Maybe that purple sundress you have. Show off those legs! And don’t worry about the spanking thoughts. I know what you mean. And my spanking did make me act better for some reason. I finished the artwork for that children’s book I’m working on.
Katherine ‘Kate’ Beckett Congrats on the book! Tomorrow is the big day and I’m going to pull out all the stops. Cross your fingers for me!
Michelle Jones-Sexton So, how did it go? Is your butt red, LOL!
And, then, the last message, which he read again:
It didn’t work. I took your advice and tried to make him mad enough to spank me, but he didn’t go there. I did get pulled into his office and “sternly lectured,” (LOL) which was kind of exciting, but nowhere near as exciting as it must be to get pulled over someone’s lap and spanked. I KNOW it would be hot!! Maybe next week, but I don’t know. He was horribly upset with me and to be honest I was a little scared. Part of me wants this but part of me doesn’t.
Stephen sat back in his chair. It was rare that he ever got hoodwinked, but this time he sure had. How could he not have picked up on her behavior? How could he not have seen how he was being played by the little upstart? Nobody played Stephen Blackstone. Nobody. And especially not some little girl barely out of school.
He stood up, furious. It was one thing to put up with her behavior under the assumption that she really didn’t know better or just needed some solid guidance, but it was another thing entirely to have his firm be made the place of some childish game. Worse, his personal business was just that. The relationship he had had with his late wife was totally off limits, and she would not be made a part of this whole charade.
Heading back to his office, he tried to calm down. His guiding principle in all aspects of his life, both his public and private, was to always maintain calm. Emotions clouded judgment and caused a person to make mistakes. As the line in the poem went: “If you can keep your head while all those around you are losing theirs . . ..” He lived by that line; indeed, he considered it his responsibility as a man to live by that standard. His shoulders were broad in more ways than one, and he willingly carried the weight of other people, especially those he cared about, on them, and he didn’t mind or resent that fact.
But he did resent what Kate had been plotting behind his back. And, to make it worse, he kept seeing in his mind that awful look of uncertainty that had appeared on Hannah Ferrier’s face yesterday in the meeting room – her doubtfulness about his ability to carry a bit of her weight written all over it. Kate had caused that look.
A drive. That might help. But first he had that letter to attend to. He wouldn’t let her throw him off his game any more than she already had. He walked back to her desk, got a clean envelope, and addressed it himself. He found a stamp in her top drawer (she had lost any respect he might have had for her personal space; it was, after all, his space if he wanted to be technical, which he did), licked it, placed it on the envelope, which he then carried back to his office and handily deposited in his briefcase. After closing the briefcase latch, he headed for the door with briefcase in one hand and car keys in the other. He shut and locked the front door to the building (the handling of such minute details was somehow soothing to his mind, as it always had been), then strode towards his car – a black, Jaguar convertible – his sometimes oasis.
It was a mild night, so he removed his jacket before climbing in the car. He turned the key and listened to the soft purr of the engine as it fired up at his touch. Yes, a drive in this car would clear his mind and let him think this through properly. He put the car in drive, lowered its top, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed downtown.
He had hoped the cool air would calm his anger, but he kept recalling the messages he had read. This was all a game to her. Well, he didn’t play games, never had. Maybe she did need a spanking. A good, old fashioned spanking where she would be pulled over a man’s knee and have that little, perky bottom worn out. And, no, there would be no spanking over panties or anything like that. She needed her panties ripped right off her ass. Then, that little ass needed to be spanked good and hard, and he wouldn’t stop until she cried. Or sobbed. Yes, he would make her sob. She would get exactly what she deserved and then some.
Oh, he bet she would struggle to get off his lap as her little fantasy came true. She would struggle as her bottom reddened with each smart slap. But he wouldn’t let her off. He would hold her down until he said enough. Until he had taught her a lesson. Then he would caress her sweet, little heart shaped bottom and feel the heat he had caused. And then he would pick her up and flip her like a rag doll over a table or chair or whatever the hell happened to be close by, and he would fuck her. He would fuck her so hard she would come harder for him than she had ever dreamed about coming for any other m. . . WHAT THE HELL!
Stephen pulled the car into an empty parking lot, too fast, making the gravel fly. Where had that come from? He didn’t want to fuck Kate Beckett, the little brat. He never even thought about her in that way.
Oh, really, counselor, said the little voice inside his head, the voice he had always listened to and trusted. You keep her around, don’t you? You put up with things from her that you would never tolerate from another low-level staffer, don’t you? Not because of her father, either. Because you want to. “No,” Stephen said, aloud to the little voice.
“No, I am not interested in Kate. No fucking way.”
Oh, yes you are, big fella. You can fool the rest of the world, but not me. That tousled brown hair and big green eyes. Her perfect figure. Yeah, you’ve noticed. And wanted. Yep. Then there’s her mind. You like her and want her and that’s why you keep her around and put up with God knows what from her. That’s why your cock hardened yesterday when you saw her in that skimpy little dress. That’s why your heart melted a bit when she cried leaving your office. You watched her and you know why. Admit it.
Stephen thought for a while, battling the voice that kept insisting he was interested in Kate -that he did care about her that much. That he did want her. That he was ready for a relationship. He shifted into drive and pulled back out on the road, driving with the sweet night air hitting his face as he considered the crazy idea that the voice might be right. He drove for hours.
Kate’s Volkswagen Bug was parked in her driveway, so Stephen knew she was probably home. Her yard was neat and trim, with landscaping that was understated in its elegance, a look he hadn’t expected. Gathering his resolve, he walked to her door. Was he ready for this? Only one way to find out – he rang the doorbell and waited.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mr. Blackstone, Kate,” he replied, then added, “It’s Stephen.”
Not a sound from the other side of the door. Seconds ticked by.
“Can I come in?” When she still didn’t answer, he said, simply, “Let me in, Kate.”
He heard a lock click and slowly the door opened. Walking in, he took in Kate and her home in one sweeping glance. Her eyes were huge, and he noticed her hand was shaking a bit as she shut the door behind him. She still hadn’t spoken.
“Kate, is it okay that I’m here?” His voice was steadier than he felt.
“Yes,” she responded in a small voice. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed. Maybe she had – he had lost track of the time hours ago. She was wearing a gown that said “Sweet Dreams” on the front. Stephen took a seat in the wingback chair by the fireplace and looked at her for a long time. She was still by the door.
“Come here, Kate,” he finally said, trying his best to keep his voice level. It had been years since he had done this.
She didn’t move. She was half hidden in the shadows.
“Kate, I said to come here, and I meant it,” he said, with more firmness in his voice.
Slowly, she made her way to him and started to sit down in the twin chair on the other side of the fireplace. He moved forward and grabbed her arm, gently but firmly turning her to face him as he sat back in his chair once more. He took both of her hands and held them as he looked up at her face.
“Look at me, Kate.”
She raised her eyes to meet his, and he saw a touch of fear in them. He had studied human nature long enough to know that even though she may have sized about what he was about to do to her, the actuality of the act might be over whelming. But he also knew that if he was calm and in control, she would submit to him more easily. After all, a bit of his strength was what she was really looking for, strength that for some reason she thought she didn’t have. That’s what she really wanted, and he could provide it. He had done it before, and, he realized, he wanted to do it now.
“I want you to place yourself across my lap, over my knees.”
Kate looked away from his gaze and hesitated, before saying, “I . . . I don’t know if . . .”
“You can either do this on your own, or I will do it for you – your choice.”
She moved towards him, and he helped her position herself over his knees. Pulling her gown up, he saw she was wearing black lace panties. As he pulled those down to the top of her thighs, he heard her sharp intake of breath and felt himself grow hard. She had to feel his hardness too. He began to stroke her bottom in an almost calming way.
“Have you been a very, very, bad girl, Kate?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered, with a catch in her voice.
Starting with small, almost playful swats, he spanked her all over both of her cheeks, never stopping in one spot long enough to cause more than a slight sting each time his hand made contact with her soft skin. Still, it didn’t take long for her bottom to redden, and she was starting to squirm. He quickened his pace.
“I don’t like it when little girls play games with me. You won’t play anymore games with me, will you, Kate?”
“N . . . no,” she replied, trying hard not to cry, and he knew it wasn’t because of the pain – it couldn’t hurt that much yet.
“I’ll help you remember not to,” he said, and with that he started to spank her with more intensity, slapping her bottom harder and isolating his hand to certain spots, a move he knew would cause some real pain. When she started whimpering, he didn’t slow down or let up. Indeed, the more she whimpered, the harder he spanked. Kate finally cried out and reached back with her hand to try and stop his. He deftly caught it in midair.
“No,” was all he said, as he placed her arm once more in front of her. He started spanking her again, and it wasn’t long before she reached back again. Once more, he grabbed her arm.
“Do that again, and I will take off my belt,” he said, calmly and firmly. “You put that hand back down and don’t you ever do that again when I am spanking you.”
He let go of her hand and she obediently dropped it, grabbing the leg of his pants instead, bunching the fabric in her fist and pulling and pushing against his leg while he resumed the hard spanking. Although he could feel her nails through the fabric of his pants, he ignored it because he knew she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing. She began to cry, but he didn’t let up. It wasn’t time. This was always the hardest part – the not stopping when the sobbing began. But the sobbing was what she needed somehow. He made himself continue, pushing his hand on her lower back to still her squirming bottom, while delivering rhythmic, hard spanks with the other. Kate was becoming overwhelmed, and he knew it was almost time to stop, but he needed to push her just a bit more. Ten more swats. He counted silently and then it was over.
He let her cry, draped over his lap like that, her sobs sometimes mixed with mumblings he couldn’t understand and didn’t need to. While she cried, he traced small circles on her lower back. He gently pulled her panties all the way off, helped her up, and then sat her in his lap like a child, letting her cry some more. She smelled like a summer rain, and he kissed her head gently while running his fingers through her hair, pushing tendrils of it back tenderly from her tear-stained face.
After a while, he picked her up, then carried her to her bedroom and laid her gently down on the big, fourposter bed. Her nightlight was on, and he could see her face and flushed cheeks in its light. Her chest was heaving a bit, and he could tell she was trying hard not to cry – trying so very, very, hard.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her on her forehead and then on her lips. His lips lingered on hers, while she continued to softly sniffle.
He found the bathroom and opened drawers and cabinets until he found some cream. Once back in her bedroom, he gently rolled Kate over so that she was on her stomach. Applying the cream gently to her sore bottom, he caressed her until her breathing evened out and the sniffling stopped.
“You’re okay,” he said, whispering in her ear as he began to kiss the side of her face while gently stroking her hair. With his other hand he began to explore her bottom. Pushing her thighs open just enough to work his hand in, he found the wetness between her legs. Inserting a finger, then two, he gently stroked her pussy as she began to lightly moan beneath him. Withdrawing his fingers from her wetness, he moved forward to her clit, rubbing the little nub with a circular motion until she began to softly moan. He moved his hand back once more and felt again the wetness of her tight pussy. As he penetrated her with his fingers, Kate began to thrust her hips back against him, pushing her sex hard against his hand.
He stopped and flipped her over on her back. Standing for a moment to undress, Stephen watched her watch him as he removed his pants, her eyes widening as his engorged cock sprang free. Moving to her side, he kissed her face again, starting with her forehead and working down until he found her lips. He kissed her mouth gently at first, then more fiercely as he forced his tongue in her mouth, one hand holding her face firmly beneath his, while the other began to caress her breasts. His mouth soon followed, and as he started to tease her nipples with his tongue, he felt her grab his swollen cock and begin to stroke its thick shaft, increasing the aching need that was centered there and that was growing stronger with each lovely second. He reached once more for the slickness between her legs, filling her with his fingers as he massaged her clit for several moments with his thumb.
She began to moan loudly – he could feel the tension rising in her body. Before she could come, Stephen turned her over so that she was once again face down.
He pulled her bottom up so that she was on her knees, her face and forearms resting on the bed. Taking her from behind, he entered her forcefully with one hard thrust, an act that caused her to cry out and grab the headboard.
As he began to slowly move inside her, his cock filling her completely, he moved his fingers once more to her clit. Rubbing it with a firm, circular motion, he heard her moaning begin anew. He moved both his cock and his fingers more quickly, and, in no time, she was moving too, rocking and pushing back against him as if she couldn’t get enough of him inside her. Moving still faster, he pumped his cock inside of her as she tried to match his rhythm, her moaning now intermingled with soft cries.
“Are you going to be a good girl, Kate?” He whispered the question in her ear, rubbing even harder and faster on her clit, while he continued his forceful fucking of her tight, wet pussy.
“Yes,” she moaned, as her breathing sharply quickened.
“Then you can come now,” he said.
She tensed for a second or two and then began to buck wildly beneath him, finally crying out as her pleasure overtook her, her sex contracting tightly around his shaft. Not waiting for her climax to subside, Stephen grabbed her hips and began to fiercely pound into her, holding her bottom in place with his hands as his thrusts became even more urgent and unrestrained. Her moans deepened. The aching in his groin engulfed him, and all of his being – all thought, emotion, or reason – became centered in the throbbing hardness between his legs. His thrusting became ruthless, until, with a harsh grunt of release, he came hard, spurting his seed deep inside her.
Collapsing on top of her, he lay like that for a minute, until his body and mind began to regain some semblance of composure. Rolling onto his side, he gently pulled her to him so that they were face to face. Cradling her face in his hand, he lovingly kissed her mouth. He began to gently play with her tousled hair, pushing damp tendrils back from her sweaty forehead with his fingers. He did that until sleep began to overtake her.
“No more games, Kate,” he said, tracing her lips with his finger.
She nodded, mumbled something he couldn’t understand, and drifted off. Kissing her lips once more, he then lay back and listened to the rhythm of her soft breathing, a sound which quickly caused him to drift off too. But, before he did, he had the strangest thought. It was that Kate, the little vixen, had gotten everything she wanted after all.
6 Month Later
Stephen was polishing and cleaning his great-grandfather’s pistol. It was a Colt revolver and caring for it was a pleasurable chore, a chore made even more pleasurable on that day by the fact that Kate’s bottom was in his direct line of vision whenever he glanced up to catch a play of the football game that was on the television across the room. He was at his desk, while Kate was stretched out on her stomach on the leather sectional that helped divide the room. Her jeans hugged ever sweet curve of her perky little ass.
She had spent the night with him, an event that was close to becoming a habit if he wasn’t careful. Not that he would rather she not be there; he was just taking it slowly. He had taken it very slowly since that night six months ago when he had spanked her soundly before making his way into her bed. She had been playfully charming ever since and had shown a much more focused desire to get into law school. In fact, she was busy studying for the LSAT at that very moment, and had been ever since she had finished the breakfast he had made for her earlier that morning.
That had been hours ago, and he was getting hungry. Maybe they could go out and get a quick bite at the local deli maybe a Reuben and potato chips.
“Hey, Kate? Would you want to g-.”
He was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone.
“Hello?” “Stephen? It’s Miles Delacroix.”
Stephen’s stomach did a mild flipflop upon hearing the name. Miles was a respected colleague, a transplanted Cajun who had made his home in horse-racing country and established a career for himself as a topnotch CPA, handling the financial affairs of his upper crust clients with both discretion and a business acumen almost unmatched in his field. Stephen liked the man a great deal, but he didn’t welcome this phone call. He knew what it most likely meant.
“Hey, Miles. How are you?” He kept his tone calm and cheerful. He’d be damned if Miles knew he was nervous.
“I’m fine, thank you, but I’m calling to let you know that Richard Ferrier died last night.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.” And he was, for more reasons than one.
“How do you suggest we proceed?” That was pure Miles, Stephen thought. Always the Southern gentleman, he showed it here with his deference to Stephen. That trait had caused plenty of people, especially those not well versed in Southern charm, to underestimate the man to their own regret. Stephen knew better. Miles was an alpha male if there ever was one, not that Miles would ever give a damn if he was one or not.
“Let’s meet with Hannah after the reading of the will. I’ll go over the details of the special instructions Richard left, the process for following through, and the responsibilities of each of us.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, the men said their goodbyes. Stephen wondered if Miles was as confident as he sounded. Maybe he was faking too. Maybe neither of them really had anything to worry about.
“Stephen, who was that?” Kate hadn’t turned around to ask the question. Her sweet bottom was still facing him as he looked her way. She couldn’t have seen the concern on his face.
“Just business. Let’s go get something to eat.” She would never know what that phone call pertained to. Never.
About the Author
Emma lives in the bluegrass region of Kentucky with her husband and two dogs. She has a master’s degree in English Literature and her hobbies include painting, knitting, crocheting, and gardening. Emma writes racy romance and has a fondness for heroes who can take their women “firmly in hand” if the need arises . . . and it always arises